Loving the Forbidden Prince

ETAN

It was an incredible moment, laying there with her, nothing between them and the sun—or each other. When they'd both caught their breath and Ayleth had stopped blinking, he pushed himself up onto the rock with her and she rolled into the crook between his arm and his side, her head on his shoulder.

Neither of them spoke for a while. 

As he lay there under the sky, his wife-to-be's arm thrown over his chest, his fingers stroking slowly along her skin, and their breathing settling in time... Etan wished it could last forever. He wished their lives would always include these moments of peace and satisfaction. This unity. He vowed that no matter how busy his life as a ruler became, he would insist that they take a morning together regularly… just like this. 

At some point they dozed, warmed by the sun and each other's bodies. So when the whistle cut through their air, for the first blast he dreamed that he was in a game, showing off to Ayleth who stood at the sideline, but awaited her turn to walk onto the field and show them all how it was done. His heart burst with pride when she smiled at him after he'd successfully scored a goal—then the whistle blew again and his entire consciousness sucked out and away from the image of Ayleth smiling at him with a promise in her eyes, to Ayleth sitting up next to him, covering herself with a gasp.

"Etan, what—"

"Get in the water, now," he barked, sliding off the rock and pulling her down behind him—forcing himself to focus despite her clinging to his back and every inch of her skin bare—No! He had to focus.

"Etan?! Ayleth?!" Hooves thundered on the dirt and grass as Borsche flew into the clearing, yanking so hard on his mount it almost sat down as it braced to a stop.

"Are we under attack?" Etan shouted.

"No, but—"

"Stay back!" Etan commanded him, one hand up. "Turn your back!"

"This is urgent—"

"And you will speak to me while Ayleth has an opportunity for discretion, Borsche. Turn your back. Now."

With a growl the man reined his horse around. "If… I told you to be careful. Falek is going to have kittens."

"There will be no need for that, Etan said, leading Ayleth out of the water, but keeping himself between her and Borsche. "Tell me what the urgency is while we dress—don't turn around!"

Borsche's shoulders climbed almost to his ears and he muttered something Etan didn't catch, but that he knew meant he was in for a lecture later. "I've come from the village," he said loudly, turning his head slightly and Etan hissed at him not to turn. Borsche rolled his eyes. "There was a messenger sent to all the neighboring towns to announce that the Heir, Lord Etan Summit, must attend his parents immediately. He is to return to the Festival as soon as the message is received. By order of his King," Borsche growled the last part. 

Etan stopped, blinking. They'd reached their clothes and Ayleth, breathing too quickly, was dressing behind him. He'd reached for his pants, but stood there leathers dangling from his fingers, stunned.

"By order of the King?"

"Yes, Etan. You're father's pulling rank."

Etan turned to see Ayleth in her riding leathers, her blouse around her shoulders and turned away from Borsche working on the buttons.

"You can look now, Borsche," he said quietly. 

Borsche dismounted. For once he wasn't in the ridiculous garb of a clown, but his leathers with strange flaps and pockets, a linen shirt with only one ruffle at the throat, and a leather jacket with the gold clasp at the front and the cape that fluttered behind him as he stormed towards them like an avenging angel.

Etan's stomach went cold. There wasn't a hint of humor or long-suffering patience on Borsche's face. He only got that fixed, hard expression when things were truly dire.

By the time he crossed the clearing Etan had his leathers on and was ducking to pick up his shirt that was in the dirt. 

Ayleth, having fully dressed, turned to face him, her cheeks pink, but eyes and chin high. 

Fuck she was beautiful. 

"Where's Falek?" she asked as Borsche reached them. 

"He's watching the entrance. I'm to bring you out and we'll go to camp and discuss your options."

"Options?" Etan was staggered. "What options? If I don't go—"

"We'll discuss them and determine the best course together," Borsche said through his teeth. "You have to know what this must mean, Etan. He wouldn't call you back formally unless… unless…"

"He knows," Ayleth breathed, then looked at him. 

The adrenalin that had already been coursing through him since Borsche's appearance, surged and his heart raced faster. "Impossible," Etan said, shaking his head, but his heart was sinking.

There was nothing else he could think of that would have spurred his father to call him back from the tradition—and formally. As a subject to the crown, rather than as Heir. 

Ayleth had to be right. They must have learned… "How?" he growled.

Borsche's mouth dropped open. "I told you you were taking risks! I told you we couldn't afford it—your emotions got the better of you, again, and here we are."

"We can't be certain," he said, turning from Borsche to walk Ayleth to her mouth. Their eyes met and he grieved the loss of the bright joy that had been there just minutes earlier. He held her horse's bridle while she mounted, then returned to his own, tightened the girth of the saddle, and swung into it.

Borsche didn't answer until they were both seated and looking at him.

"Can you think of anything—anything at all—that would motivate your father, before the nations, to summon you in submission to the crown?"

Etan swallowed. "No."

Borsche nodded once, his jaw tight. "And so, we will discuss our options, and we will address this head-on, in the manner we measure best. Together. All of us."

Etan regarded him calmly. He shuddered to think of the rage his father would be in if he'd learned of his commitment to Ayleth. But he couldn't deny there was a sense of relief in him at the idea, as well. No more hiding. No more deceit. As long as they could survive the fall out physically, it was worth it in his, opinion.

The Father of Lights wouldn't have put them in this situation if it was untenable.

He promised.

"Very well," Etan said quietly. "Let's go back to camp. And let's discuss our options."

With a growl, Borsche swung into his saddle and kicked his mount forward, too quickly for Etan to linger with Ayleth as he would have liked.