"Arabian Nights"
Part 69
by Mel
Ian sent Sean back to bed earlier then was necessary. Telling the man they were done for the night he watched him drag his body out of the room, nodding his goodbye to Ian. He ignored Karl entirely.
He had known something was going on in the last few days. Something deeper then a simple clash of wills. At first, Ian had brushed it off. Sean was a haunted individual, you just had to look into his eyes to know it. He had thought Karl must have said something to spark the man’s memories. It was something they would then sort through.
At four days of ignoring and curt replies to Karl’s questions, Ian made some discreet inquires among the guards, slaves and servants. It was the quickest way to find out anything in the palace, though not always entirely accurate. Quickly dismissing the rumours that Karl had cut off Sean’s manhood, Ian listened to tales of Sean defending a street whore.
It hadn’t seemed possible, Ian was certain he was hearing
things wrong somewhere. But when the same story came up a number of times,
he couldn’t dismiss it. Karl was the only man Ian knew, with the possible
exception of the Prince, who did not sample the delights of the palace pleasure
slaves,
or even the whores in the bazaar. The man had slaves, obviously, you could
not live here and not have them. He only took lovers to his bed though.
Ian had always passed it off as a particular preference. Perhaps he had been hurt by a whore before, or been one himself. Whatever the reason, there was no reason to share it, and it had never caused a problem in the court except when the pleasure slaves bemoaned at not getting a chance to sample the Captain’s delights.
Until now.
The Prince, whenever he came close to Karl, would tense up. So far things had been lucky. Karl had not had to deal directly with the Prince anymore. Dealing with Sean was only slightly less frightening to watch. Karl was trying very hard not to let it affect him, but Ian could see him crumbling at the edges. It wouldn’t be long till Karl fell apart completely.
Ian, despite rumours that said the contrary, was not a interfering man. Where the problems were fixed without his hands involved, he let them. The Prince’s boys were a prime example, where his interference was practically nil. He could have gotten a lot more involved, there were times when he wanted to smack young Dominic on the back of the head and tell him where he was treading wrong. But then those boys would never have learnt to get along on their own. They may have even blamed him one day for forcing them to become friends. Most of the time if they were left to naturally progress, things would be fine.
This time, Ian was neither sure if he could keep his hands out of it, or if left to continue naturally, things would be ok. Watching Karl relax, slump for a moment, Ian was sure the boys need a hand.
“We are almost done,” Ian told him gently, rousing the exhausted man. “Then you should go to sleep.”
“I will not sleep,” came the slightly acidic reply. It would have startled Ian if he had not known how close to breaking point Karl already was. “I don’t deserve to sleep.”
“Did you want to talk about it, old friend?” Ian asked gently.
Karl’s whole body stiffened, and for a moment Ian thought he would truly break. That he would fall apart right in front of him. But Karl surprised him, taking instead a shuddering breath, and then another. He straightened and Ian watched as he pulled himself back together. It took time but his mask was soon back in place.
“No, it’s nothing.”
Ian sighed. Things would be much easier if Karl would just talk to him. He knew better then to press these delicate matters though. Karl would come to him when he was ready. Or to someone else. Perhaps he would speak of these things to young Orlando. He had known and loved the boy almost his whole life, surely if there was someone he could confide in it would be him.
Whatever it was, Karl needed healing, he was no use to anyone in this state. Ian vowed he would get it seen to long before the Caliph saw reason to replace the man. He was certain should that happen, the already breaking man would be destroyed. It was the only thing he seemed to be able to cling to. Ian wouldn’t let it be taken from him.
“Of course,” Ian’s tone betrayed his worry and Karl looked at him.
His amber eyes were haunted and it was painful to watch him try to smile. How had the roles changed? How had Sean’s eyes become strong and unforgiving? And Karl’s fallen and lost?
“It’s fine, old man.” Karl lied, Ian scowled, letting it pass. If Karl wouldn’t talk to him there was nothing he could do yet. “Let’s finish these plans.”
Ian could only let it pass. He watched for a few moments before joining him, burying his own head in the plans. He had to give it time, but it was becoming obvious it was time he was running out of.
---
“My lord?”
The Caliph was brought from his ponderings. The sky was so clear when the city lights had burned down. Sometimes it was a joy to watch them, pretend he was a child again and see how many he could count before he became caught up in the sheer wonder of it all.
He turned, finding Liv standing in his doorway, framed by the single candle she held.
“The household sleeps, my lord,” she smiled gently from beneath her veil, “with your permission I would turn in.”
Even after all her years of service, Liv asked every night for permission to sleep. She was a creature of habit and routine and Hugo had no desire to curb her. She had grown as a child in the palace, and had, at one time or another, worked practically every job you could. She had spent as much time with healers as she had with the kitchen staff.
Her whole family had been slaves. They had worked hard for Hugo, but none had stood out till Liv had been born. She was their saving grace many times and at sixteen the Caliph had been happy to free her from her bonds of slavery. She had taken to organising the staff straight away, in a way that was adorable rather then arrogant.
The Caliph had put a lot of investment in ensuring the young girl’s happiness, and as a result he had a loyal friend that could not be brought.
“Come sit with me for a time?” He asked gently.
She smiled again, blowing out her candle and crossing the room. She knelt before him as she had as a child, and, without permission, rested her head against his knees, angling so she too could see the stars.
Hugo stroked her hair like he had when she was a small child, and together they counted stars, lending each other strength in these troubled times.
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