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council again.”
    His father’s dark, near-colorless eyes bored into Jonathan until he dropped his gaze. Even the king’s own son couldn’t help but submit to him. “An invitation to the council is not printed on paper, my son. It is earned when it is wanted. And you? Have never shown any aptitude, or interest in, affairs of state.”
    “It’s important that I be included in such matters. I will be King.” To his shame, Jonathan’s voice came out a mere whisper, a thin echo of his father’s baritone.
    The king didn’t answer him; he seemed to think their conversation was over. Turning, he marched with slow, sure steps into his study - leaving his son, blinking slowly and deliberately to keep himself composed, standing in his wake.

Jonathan
    Jonathan’s bedchamber was dark and drafty despite the fire a servant had coaxed in his fireplace. One such servant approached now to take his cloak, but he motioned him away, turning his attention to the four stiff-backed guards who followed him everywhere.
    His father’s disapproval burned a hot pit in his throat.
    “Leave, all of you.” Jonathan’s guards bowed and stepped back. “Except Linnaeus.”
    The dark-haired youth froze in place, his head bowed. “As Your Grace wishes.” The other three guards walked out with their heads bowed, closing the palatial doors behind them.
    Jonathan sauntered over to his bed and sat on it, leaning back on his elbows. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he savored Linnaeus’s profile from afar. “Undress for me.”
    Linnaeus unclasped his cloak pin and bent down to take off his boots.
    “Slower,” Jonathan said, adding, “and look at me, why don’t you.”
    “It’s hard to look at you and my boots at the same time,” Linnaeus said, stepping out of them and tilting his chin up. A flirtatious grin played around his normally solemn mouth. “But I’ll try.”
    “You should try not to look so eager.” Jonathan stood and strode over to his drinks cabinet, watching Linnaeus slowly peel off his blue and gold overcoat. He wore a ceremonial sword at his shoulder and two very real guns at his hip, ready at any moment to lay his life down for his prince. A prince he would do anything for, eager and easy to please.
    “It’s difficult not to be enthusiastic when it’s been a while… Your Grace.” Linnaeus unbuckled his sword belt and dropped it at his feet. He wore a clingy white button-up and a pair of black leather pants that clung to his now-revealed form. Jonathan poured them each a glass of red wine and walked slowly, deliberately, over to Linnaeus, reveling in the fact that he was still completely dressed. Maybe he would even stay that way, this time.
    “Drink up,” he said, handing the glass over. “Consider your guard duties over for tonight.”
    “That’s just as well, Your Grace, because I sent for Matthew to take over from me.” He took the glass with long, callused fingers, looking down at David from between his eyelashes. “Should I continue undressing?”
    “No.” Jonathan drank his wine and dropped the glass on the plush carpet. “I’ll do the rest of it myself.”
    He pressed his hand against the soldier’s crotch, enjoying the soft moan that escaped from the man’s lips. Linnaeus drank his own wine, but set the glass down more carefully on a side tablet, backing slowly into one of the many couches in Jonathan’s bedroom.
    Jonathan pulled his guard’s shift out of his pants, reaching under to press his fingers greedily against his warm skin. He tilted his head up for a kiss and was met by hungry lips that took his forcefully; gone was Linnaeus’s deference, his titles and duties. In its place was the hungry dance they’d danced many times before, each time more demanding than the one before.
    Slipping his tongue into Linnaeus’s mouth, Jonathan reached behind him to unbuckle his gun belt and thought suddenly of the soldier who’d come before his father that morning.
    Not now, Jonathan.
    He