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simeon_josueThe water was pleasantly hot. Josué knew it wouldn’t last for long, but he was going to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.
“I had in my mind to serve with a regiment of dragoons,” he said drowsily. “Of course, then everything went to shit. You were already long gone then, enjoying your precious freedom—but that last year we held out against Litesia wasn’t pretty. Most of the officers of my company were dead. There was just me, still sergeant, and a lieutenant—younger than me, but not bad in his own way. He’d made it through several battles alive, which was more than could be said of the rest of our officers. We’d long since killed what remained of our own horses—no food to be had anywhere, of course. We ended up trapped. The enemy wasn’t even aware we were there, at least at first, but we were behind their lines, in a little valley. We thought we were going to die there. Ten of us against thousands of Litesia’s soldiers.”
“But you didn’t die,” Simeon said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
“We were lucky. Scouts came into our valley. They were hunting—for game, not for men. We managed to take them by surprise. All of a sudden, we had horses. But we were still behind the lines, still surrounded.”
“With horses, you could have tried to make a run for it.”
Josué laughed. “We wouldn’t have made it far. No, our green lieutenant had a much better idea. Much like we’d fallen upon those scouts, we’d hunt the enemy behind their own lines. Small stings, here and there. Take out as much as we could. Create confusion. Try to hold out for as long as possible. I’d sat on a horse before as a child a few times—but that was when I learned to fight on a horse. It was a harsh school.”
“But you survived it.”
Josué nodded, idly playing with the water. “By the end, there were three of us left. Three out of ten—out of an entire company.”
“And then what? The war ended?
Josué shook his head. “We found a foe we couldn’t trick. The last thing I remember is seeing that bloody lieutenant trying to hold off a troop of dragoons all by himself. Then someone shot my horse out from under me. I remember nothing until I woke up again, next to a dead horse and my head aching fiercely. There was carnage all around me. I must have been out for a day. And for once, our troops had managed to drive a brief wedge into their lines. I was no longer trapped behind the enemy.”
“And your lieutenant?”
“Taken prisoner,” Josué said. He smiled faintly. “Probably for the best. It was a mad thing we did. Courageous—but mad. He spent the next year under arrest, but they treated our officers fairly well. He was released when we made peace. Last I heard, he was a captain of dragoons—fighting off to the east.”
“Fighting for Litesia. Just like you.”
Josué shrugged lightly. “The emperor rewards courage and skill. Though that lieutenant would have had his reward either way. It’s men like me who didn’t have much else to hope for. I might have had a medal out of it—but not an officer’s commission. That wasn’t for men like me—or you.”
“That was never my dream in the first place,” Simeon protested, like Josué had known he would. “I had very simple dreams. Food. Clothes. Boots. A roof over my head at night. And you know what I got.”
“It was the same for everyone, wasn’t it?” Josué said impatiently. “You talk as if I wasn’t there myself! Like I didn’t starve and freeze and wait in vain for the handful of coins they promised us when we signed up. But I never ran. And do you know why? Because I knew that at least I had a chance. If you’d stayed in your little village, do you think you’d have been better off?”
“The village is gone,” Simeon said bitterly. “I went back, you know. When I finally escaped you lot, I went back, and nothing was left but a few burned huts. I couldn’t even say who’d done it. Their men—or ours? Not much difference in the end, is there?”
“That’s war,” Josué said. “It would have happened either way, whether you ran back or not. What good did deserting do them? You had a chance and you threw it away, because you were too much of a fool to realize that men like us only get one chance in life, if at all. You have to grab it tightly and never let go, no matter what, or else it’ll be taken from you.”
“Not true,” Simeon said softly after a pause. “Not true at all. I had a life here in the mountains. I was happy.”
“Ah, but you were a deserter.” Josué reached out and grabbed Simeon’s chin with wet fingers, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You yourself destroyed that life before you even first set foot into these mountains. You must have known all along that it would happen one day. You couldn’t run from it forever.”
Simeon stared at him, so furious that Josué thought he might pull free of his grip. Instead, after a moment, the light in Simeon’s eyes seemed to go out and he bent his head.
“I knew,” he admitted quietly. “But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t hope it wouldn’t happen.”
Josué lightly ran the pad of his thumb over Simeon’s cheek, then traced the line of his jaw. His mouth looked soft and tempting. What would Simeon do now if he leaned in and kissed him?
Probably flinch back, he thought regretfully. Though Simeon hadn’t minded the kiss at all when he’d been in bed next to Josué. Still, he needed to be patient. It was galling, especially now when it seemed that they wouldn’t have much time left in camp—but he’d have Simeon’s mouth too, eventually, in any way he desired.
Gently, he traced Simeon’s bottom lip with a fingertip, then released him.
“Help me wash my back before the water gets cold,” he said and scooted forward.
“I thought I was to read to you, not bathe you.”
Josué laughed, amused. “If I wanted you to bathe me, I’d find a better place for your hands than my back. Unless... that’s what you want?”
Simeon flushed, his eyes guiltily shying away from where they’d strayed.
“I’ll wash your back,” he said gruffly and moved to kneel behind Josué’s tub. “Where’s your soap?”
Josué handed him the slippery bar. Simeon took hold of it, then breathed in deeply as if to brace himself for the task ahead.
With a smile, Josue leaned forward, and a moment later he was rewarded by the pleasant sensation of Simeon’s hands running down his back. There was nothing hesitant about his touch, at least—his hands were pleasingly firm as they slid over Josué’s back. Once he’d worked up a lather, Simeon continued to rub the soap into Josué’s skin, who sighed in pleasure.
“You’re good at this,” he said.
“Are you regretting that you made me read to you instead?”
Josué laughed softly, stretching beneath Simeon’s touch. “Not at all. I wanted company—and you’re good company.”
Simeon faltered for a moment, then started scrubbing his skin again. “That shouldn’t surprise you. Most people are better company when they aren’t strung up in chains.”
“Then I hope that you won’t choose the chains again.”
Again Simeon stopped. “I wasn’t the one who chose them.”
“Weren’t you?” Josué murmured, and after a moment, Simeon took up his work again with a sigh.
“Once all of this is done, I’ll find a bigger tub,” Josué said dreamily. “That’ll be something to look forward to. You in the hot water with me.”
“You want to wash me?”
“Mmm,” Josué sighed. “You’d enjoy it, once you’ve stopped being so embarrassed.”
“Your hands all over me,” Simeon said bitterly. “Of course you’d like that.”
“And you think you wouldn’t? You like my fingers inside you well enough.”
He could feel Simeon’s fingers tense against his skin. Then he relaxed again, scrubbing mechanically at Josué.
“By the time this is over I’ll probably be so grateful for a bath I’d be happy to share it with you,” he muttered. “Hot water’s a luxury in the mountains. You’ll learn that very soon.”
Hot water was always a luxury, but Josué refrained from pointing that out. Simeon knew very well that Josué hadn’t had a tub or hot water or Bibeau to carry it for him in the long years before his commission. But there was another luxury he’d take into the mountains with him. Simeon would be grateful, too, once the nights got cold. He’d be happy enough to share Josué’s bedroll and the heat of his body.
Once more Josué remembered the abyss before him, the terrifying moment when nothing had stood between him and death but a man who was his enemy. Was this truly the right choice?
Then Simeon began to quietly wash the suds from his body, and Josué closed his eyes, enjoying his touch. There was no reason at all Simeon should keep mourning a man who’d been ten years dead—a man who’d never had him the way Josué had. Once they’d crossed these mountains, it was Josué’s embrace Simeon would long for, and Philippe would be all but forgotten.
*
Josué knew that something had changed even before he entered Archambeau’s tent and found the colonel waiting for him together with Remy. There was a tension in the camp; even before any order had gone out, the men seemed to have an instinctive awareness that the time had come and a decision had been made.
The guards drew the tent’s entrance closed as soon as he’d entered. There was no dinner waiting for them in the colonel’s tent. Instead, maps were spread out on the table.
As soon as he saw him, Remy rose from the chair he’d been sprawled in and handed Josué a glass of wine. Then the colonel waved them impatiently closer.
“You’ve seen what awaits us?” he asked Josué.
“Yes, sir. It was an instructive excursion.”
“You think the animals are ready?”
Josué nodded. “Yes, sir. We won’t be able to linger long in the mountains—not without sending back for more supplies. But with what we’ve been promised for tomorrow, there’ll be enough oats for the animals to make it through the mountains.”
“Good. See to it that all goes well tomorrow. The day after tomorrow, we set out.”
Josué exhaled as a familiar excitement took hold of him. The long wait before a battle was always the hardest part. Once the action started, there’d be no time to think. No one might have successfully invade Gabrada from the mountains before—but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. It merely meant that it would be hard and dangerous.
“This is the path we’ll take.” Archambeau pointed towards a thin line drawn on his map. “Memorize it. No copies will be made of this map.”
“Will it be any use without our guides?” Remy asked, frowning as he took in the meandering path.
“No.” Archambeau smiled without humor. “This map is the result of long talks between me and one of our locals, but many of these passes and hidden valleys will be impossible to find for one who hasn’t walked that path before. We’ll depend on them, and they know it.”
Josué followed the small trail, memorizing it. He’d spent countless hours brooding over maps himself and was familiar with the layout of the mountains—at least in theory. His first climb to one of the peaks before them had shown him just what it was that awaited them. A company of men could easily get lost up there, never to return.
But then, riding into battle was just as much of a risk.
Then Josué frowned as his eyes finally came to rest on where the trail ended. “Guadago, sir?”
He’d assumed Archambeau was aiming further north, leaving the mountains in a position that would enable them to strike at the heart of Gabrada’s power—Oromanca, the old seat of the kings of Gabrada. Instead, it seemed that Archambeau’s plan was to attack Guadago, a town famous for its fortifications. Nestled against the mountains, the town was said to have resisted every attacker in a thousand years. Assault from the south was impossible, for that way rose the glaciers. Attack from the north would mean that one had to take the coast of Gabrada first, or otherwise find oneself caught between the town’s defenders and Gabrada’s powerful navy.
Archambeau smiled slowly. “Ever climbed a glacier?” he asked and slapped Josué’s shoulder.
“How’s your deserter holding up?” Remy asked once they’d been dismissed from the colonel’s tent.
It was late; the sun had begun to set. By Archambeau’s orders, there were no large fires for the soldiers to gather around for warmth. It was unlikely that spies had made it so far into Nabonne and past their allies in the mountains, but even so the colonel wouldn’t take risks so close to their goal. Instead, small lamps lit the tents the men used and guards patrolled with torches.
“Well enough,” Josué said, thinking of the moment when Simeon had at last surrendered—truly surrendered. He hadn’t just submitted to Josué’s will; he’d found pleasure in it, just as Josué had known he would.
“You really think he’s going to guide us?”
Josué considered it again for a moment, then nodded. “He isn’t going to betray us. I don’t think he has quite realized what a chance he’s been given, but he is not the sort of man to betray us to Gabrada. He’d feel guilt at dooming our men.”
“He might feel no guilt about dooming you, if he has you in a position where he could do so without harm to the men,” Remy warned.
Josué nodded again. He’d considered that, too. “He might tell himself that—but in the end, we already know what sort of man he is. He’s a deserter. If given a chance, he will run rather than fight.”
“I hope you’re right about that.”
They’d reached the corral where the ponies milled. The sun was almost gone now. Two soldiers stood guard near the enclosure, holding a torch. In the light of the flickering fire, Josué saw the little gray mare raise her head in suspicion, her ears curiously flickering towards him when she realized who’d come.
Josué held out his hand, and a moment later, she approached—slowly, at her own pace, a queen granting an audience to a supplicant. Warm air caressed his palm, then her soft muzzle. He stroked her small, watchful head before he reached into his pocket for the rind of bread he’d saved for her.
“I think I am,” he said. “I wouldn’t endanger the mission merely for my own amusement, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Remy laughed. “Plenty of amusement to be found elsewhere, if that was all you’re after. And you’ve been right about him before.” He nodded at the ponies.
The mare watched Josué with intelligent eyes. He reached out to stroke her broad forehead. “I won’t deny that there is amusement in it as well. I’d be a fool not to take advantage.”
Remy laughed and clasped his shoulder. “And who’d fault you for that? All the same. How wasteful to kill him when he is so very useful.”
The mare finished crunching on her bread. She allowed him to stroke her strong, arched neck for a few moments, then turned and moved back to her herd, still keeping a watchful eye on them.
“What about you?” Josué asked. “No amusements in camp?”
Remy patted his sword with the rakish grin that made him so popular with the women of the towns and villages they’d passed. “This is all the lover I need. At least for as long as we’re out here. Once this is over—well, that’s another story.”
Josué’s own tent was lit by lamps as well, the stove spreading warmth when he returned. Bibeau had busied himself in his absence; the tub had been removed, his table cleaned, a freshly washed and starched shirt readied for the morning.
Simeon was wearing an old shirt once more. Josué hadn’t chained him when he’d left. There was little risk in it with a guard keeping watch on his tent. And as much as Josué liked the view of Simeon naked and in chains, in two days they’d set out for the mountains. He needed to know how much he could trust him until then.
Josué couldn’t deny that he was pleasantly surprised to find Simeon sitting at his table, reading the book the colonel had lent him. It meant nothing, of course; Simeon wasn’t a fool. He knew there was a guard watching the tent. Still, it was good to have confirmation that Simeon wasn’t quite so desperate to use the first time Josué left him alone and unchained to attempt an impossible escape that might have sealed his fate—for if Simeon had tried to escape and been caught by a guard, the colonel would have heard of it and declared Josué’s experiment failed right then and there.
Simeon eyed him warily, his expression almost guilty as he let go of the book and rose from his chair.
It pleased Josué to see that the lessons of the past days had had an effect. Simeon had learned that clothes, chairs, books, the freedom to move without chains were a privilege and not something to take for granted. And perhaps, if Josué had taught that lesson well enough, he’d remember it on their trek through the mountains.
Josué would have preferred to keep him here in this tent for another month, but Simeon would be put to the test sooner than he would have liked. In the end, his fate would be in his own hands. Josué had done what he could. The mountains would show whether Simeon would bend like the little mare or throw away his life.
“Something happened,” Simeon said. “What is it? The camp seems tense.”
“How do you know?” Josué asked curiously. “You haven’t left the tent.”
“It’s quiet outside. Quieter than it usually is. But I can hear movement. There’s more activity than usual.”
Josué eyed Simeon, pleased to find his initial assessment of the man once more validated. Simeon was bright. If he’d used his talents, he could have made it far.
“You’re right.” Josué’s eyes lingered on Simeon’s bare thighs, firm with muscle even after his captivity. The hem shirt was barely long enough to cover the tantalizing length of his cock. “We’ll break camp very soon, and then it’s the mountains for all of us.”
“And for myself?”
“Don’t worry about that now,” Josué said as he came closer. “You have very little to worry about, as long as you do what you’re told.”
“That’s what worries me,” Simeon murmured.
“I’ll let you have clothes,” Josué said. “You’re not pleased about that?”
“You’re very generous.”
“I’m claiming the little gray mare for my own. She’ll be your responsibility. Bibeau will have better things to do than care for my horses.”
Simeon inclined his head, still looking worried. “Will that be my only responsibility?”
“You’ll serve as one of our guides, of course.”
“Of course,” Simeon echoed.
“Just in case we become parted from our allies. You, at least, I can keep an eye on.”
“I think you mean a leash.”
Josué smiled. “And you can keep me warm at night. You’ll like that.”
A flush rose to Simeon’s face once more. “Nothing I can do about that.”
“Don’t worry,” Josué said, his good mood restored. “You’ll be happy enough about it once we have to bed down without a stove.”
Simeon’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t protest. They both knew Josué was right.
“I’ll send Bibeau out tomorrow to gather a warm set of clothes for you. You can help him pack in return.”
Again Simeon nodded after a pause.
“Anything else?”
After a moment of contemplation, Josué shook his head. “Come here.”
Simeon approached reluctantly as Josué leaned over his desk. He spread out his own map of the mountains. The colonel had forbidden them from making copies, but Josué had memorized the route they were supposed to take, just as he’d been told. Even now, he could see the small line curving back and forth between the lines of massive mountains.
“Show me on the map what path you would take if you had to lead a group of soldiers over the mountains.”
Simeon leaned forward over the map, studying it for a moment, and Josué stepped behind him.
He could feel Simeon stiffen when he rested his hands on his hips. He waited, but Simeon didn’t say anything. Then Josué bunched his fingers in the thin fabric of the old shirt and began to raise it very slowly.
Lightly, Josué pressed himself against Simeon, enjoying the firmness of his backside. He could feel Simeon’s strength in the hard muscles beneath his touch—and he knew that Simeon would submit to his hands regardless.
Simeon shivered when he slowly dragged the shirt higher. Josué leaned forward, smiling against his neck. “Weren’t you going to show me something?”
He could feel Simeon swallow. “I’d start here,” he said, pointing to where their camp was situated. “Take us up into this valley—”
Josué slid his hands slowly forward, then up his chest. Simeon’s breathing sped up.
“And from there?”
“From there we cross—here. Up an incline, then down into the next valley.”
Josué’s hands traced higher, finding the firm planes of Simeon’s chest, his muscles pronounced enough that he could lightly squeeze his breast and feel the give.
Simeon exhaled. “Then—then we follow the valley. It takes us to—”
Simeon fell silent again when one of Josué’s thumbs found a nipple. He flicked it lovingly.
“To where?”
Simeon groaned when Josué lightly pinched the other nipple. “Here. It takes us—takes us close to this mountain—”
Slowly, Josué rubbed his hand over Simeon’s chest muscles again, admiring their warmth and the firm softness of them pressing against his hand. Simeon’s heart was racing against his palm.
“Go on,” he said quietly. Simeon’s skin was smooth and hot beneath his hands; he could feel every tremor that ran through him.
“This one—this one is harder. We’ll have to climb halfway up before we can cut across a ridge that takes us to—here.” Simeon’s finger moved to the next line indicating one of the peaks before them. “We’ll be mostly without shelter. Exposed to wind and weather.”
Gently, Josué fingered a small nipple, rolling the taut bud between his fingertips until it had to be aching. Simeon arched into his touch, the map forgotten for a moment until he realized once more where he was and who was touching him. His voice was rough and desperate when he tried to continue.
“There’s... When we descend that ridge eventually, there’s valley, here, which we have to cross. We’ll find water and grass for the animals. There’s a faster way from here, but it’s for a handful of skilled men at most—not many soldiers with ponies. We will have to climb again—here. It will look like we’re turning back, but there’s a way—an old gorge—that gets us to here.”
Josué rubbed his flat hand against the muscles of Simeon’s chest again, eying the map with interest. So far, it seemed like Simeon’s path was indeed following the path that had been marked on the colonel’s map.
“This is the hardest part.” Simeon bit back a sigh when Josué gently pinched his other nipple. “To get from here to there—there’s no good way past that mountain. We’ll ascend. There’s a path, once we’ve made it up high enough, which takes us around the mountain—”
He broke off, breathing heavily, his heart thudding against Josué’s palm. “It’s narrow—dangerous. But just wide enough you can take a pony across it.”
“And after that?” Idly, Josué imagined sliding his hand downward until he could close his fingers around Simeon’s cock.
“If we make it across there without losses, we have as good as made it,” Simeon said hoarsely, trembling against Josué when he used his nail to lightly torment the erect, sensitive nipple. “Then we come to easier passes—here, and here. More dangerous, too, because Gabrada is close—but our people will watch.”
“No longer your people,” Josué corrected. “You’re ours. Mine, more specifically.”
Simeon breathed in as if he wanted to protest, and Josué lovingly pinched the nipple again so that Simeon fell silent, shivering in his grasp.
It was delicious, having him in his power like this. But would it hold in the mountains? The path Simeon had outlined was the same path that had been proposed to the colonel. Surely that was a good sign.
“I had in my mind to serve with a regiment of dragoons,” he said drowsily. “Of course, then everything went to shit. You were already long gone then, enjoying your precious freedom—but that last year we held out against Litesia wasn’t pretty. Most of the officers of my company were dead. There was just me, still sergeant, and a lieutenant—younger than me, but not bad in his own way. He’d made it through several battles alive, which was more than could be said of the rest of our officers. We’d long since killed what remained of our own horses—no food to be had anywhere, of course. We ended up trapped. The enemy wasn’t even aware we were there, at least at first, but we were behind their lines, in a little valley. We thought we were going to die there. Ten of us against thousands of Litesia’s soldiers.”
“But you didn’t die,” Simeon said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
“We were lucky. Scouts came into our valley. They were hunting—for game, not for men. We managed to take them by surprise. All of a sudden, we had horses. But we were still behind the lines, still surrounded.”
“With horses, you could have tried to make a run for it.”
Josué laughed. “We wouldn’t have made it far. No, our green lieutenant had a much better idea. Much like we’d fallen upon those scouts, we’d hunt the enemy behind their own lines. Small stings, here and there. Take out as much as we could. Create confusion. Try to hold out for as long as possible. I’d sat on a horse before as a child a few times—but that was when I learned to fight on a horse. It was a harsh school.”
“But you survived it.”
Josué nodded, idly playing with the water. “By the end, there were three of us left. Three out of ten—out of an entire company.”
“And then what? The war ended?
Josué shook his head. “We found a foe we couldn’t trick. The last thing I remember is seeing that bloody lieutenant trying to hold off a troop of dragoons all by himself. Then someone shot my horse out from under me. I remember nothing until I woke up again, next to a dead horse and my head aching fiercely. There was carnage all around me. I must have been out for a day. And for once, our troops had managed to drive a brief wedge into their lines. I was no longer trapped behind the enemy.”
“And your lieutenant?”
“Taken prisoner,” Josué said. He smiled faintly. “Probably for the best. It was a mad thing we did. Courageous—but mad. He spent the next year under arrest, but they treated our officers fairly well. He was released when we made peace. Last I heard, he was a captain of dragoons—fighting off to the east.”
“Fighting for Litesia. Just like you.”
Josué shrugged lightly. “The emperor rewards courage and skill. Though that lieutenant would have had his reward either way. It’s men like me who didn’t have much else to hope for. I might have had a medal out of it—but not an officer’s commission. That wasn’t for men like me—or you.”
“That was never my dream in the first place,” Simeon protested, like Josué had known he would. “I had very simple dreams. Food. Clothes. Boots. A roof over my head at night. And you know what I got.”
“It was the same for everyone, wasn’t it?” Josué said impatiently. “You talk as if I wasn’t there myself! Like I didn’t starve and freeze and wait in vain for the handful of coins they promised us when we signed up. But I never ran. And do you know why? Because I knew that at least I had a chance. If you’d stayed in your little village, do you think you’d have been better off?”
“The village is gone,” Simeon said bitterly. “I went back, you know. When I finally escaped you lot, I went back, and nothing was left but a few burned huts. I couldn’t even say who’d done it. Their men—or ours? Not much difference in the end, is there?”
“That’s war,” Josué said. “It would have happened either way, whether you ran back or not. What good did deserting do them? You had a chance and you threw it away, because you were too much of a fool to realize that men like us only get one chance in life, if at all. You have to grab it tightly and never let go, no matter what, or else it’ll be taken from you.”
“Not true,” Simeon said softly after a pause. “Not true at all. I had a life here in the mountains. I was happy.”
“Ah, but you were a deserter.” Josué reached out and grabbed Simeon’s chin with wet fingers, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You yourself destroyed that life before you even first set foot into these mountains. You must have known all along that it would happen one day. You couldn’t run from it forever.”
Simeon stared at him, so furious that Josué thought he might pull free of his grip. Instead, after a moment, the light in Simeon’s eyes seemed to go out and he bent his head.
“I knew,” he admitted quietly. “But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t hope it wouldn’t happen.”
Josué lightly ran the pad of his thumb over Simeon’s cheek, then traced the line of his jaw. His mouth looked soft and tempting. What would Simeon do now if he leaned in and kissed him?
Probably flinch back, he thought regretfully. Though Simeon hadn’t minded the kiss at all when he’d been in bed next to Josué. Still, he needed to be patient. It was galling, especially now when it seemed that they wouldn’t have much time left in camp—but he’d have Simeon’s mouth too, eventually, in any way he desired.
Gently, he traced Simeon’s bottom lip with a fingertip, then released him.
“Help me wash my back before the water gets cold,” he said and scooted forward.
“I thought I was to read to you, not bathe you.”
Josué laughed, amused. “If I wanted you to bathe me, I’d find a better place for your hands than my back. Unless... that’s what you want?”
Simeon flushed, his eyes guiltily shying away from where they’d strayed.
“I’ll wash your back,” he said gruffly and moved to kneel behind Josué’s tub. “Where’s your soap?”
Josué handed him the slippery bar. Simeon took hold of it, then breathed in deeply as if to brace himself for the task ahead.
With a smile, Josue leaned forward, and a moment later he was rewarded by the pleasant sensation of Simeon’s hands running down his back. There was nothing hesitant about his touch, at least—his hands were pleasingly firm as they slid over Josué’s back. Once he’d worked up a lather, Simeon continued to rub the soap into Josué’s skin, who sighed in pleasure.
“You’re good at this,” he said.
“Are you regretting that you made me read to you instead?”
Josué laughed softly, stretching beneath Simeon’s touch. “Not at all. I wanted company—and you’re good company.”
Simeon faltered for a moment, then started scrubbing his skin again. “That shouldn’t surprise you. Most people are better company when they aren’t strung up in chains.”
“Then I hope that you won’t choose the chains again.”
Again Simeon stopped. “I wasn’t the one who chose them.”
“Weren’t you?” Josué murmured, and after a moment, Simeon took up his work again with a sigh.
“Once all of this is done, I’ll find a bigger tub,” Josué said dreamily. “That’ll be something to look forward to. You in the hot water with me.”
“You want to wash me?”
“Mmm,” Josué sighed. “You’d enjoy it, once you’ve stopped being so embarrassed.”
“Your hands all over me,” Simeon said bitterly. “Of course you’d like that.”
“And you think you wouldn’t? You like my fingers inside you well enough.”
He could feel Simeon’s fingers tense against his skin. Then he relaxed again, scrubbing mechanically at Josué.
“By the time this is over I’ll probably be so grateful for a bath I’d be happy to share it with you,” he muttered. “Hot water’s a luxury in the mountains. You’ll learn that very soon.”
Hot water was always a luxury, but Josué refrained from pointing that out. Simeon knew very well that Josué hadn’t had a tub or hot water or Bibeau to carry it for him in the long years before his commission. But there was another luxury he’d take into the mountains with him. Simeon would be grateful, too, once the nights got cold. He’d be happy enough to share Josué’s bedroll and the heat of his body.
Once more Josué remembered the abyss before him, the terrifying moment when nothing had stood between him and death but a man who was his enemy. Was this truly the right choice?
Then Simeon began to quietly wash the suds from his body, and Josué closed his eyes, enjoying his touch. There was no reason at all Simeon should keep mourning a man who’d been ten years dead—a man who’d never had him the way Josué had. Once they’d crossed these mountains, it was Josué’s embrace Simeon would long for, and Philippe would be all but forgotten.
*
Josué knew that something had changed even before he entered Archambeau’s tent and found the colonel waiting for him together with Remy. There was a tension in the camp; even before any order had gone out, the men seemed to have an instinctive awareness that the time had come and a decision had been made.
The guards drew the tent’s entrance closed as soon as he’d entered. There was no dinner waiting for them in the colonel’s tent. Instead, maps were spread out on the table.
As soon as he saw him, Remy rose from the chair he’d been sprawled in and handed Josué a glass of wine. Then the colonel waved them impatiently closer.
“You’ve seen what awaits us?” he asked Josué.
“Yes, sir. It was an instructive excursion.”
“You think the animals are ready?”
Josué nodded. “Yes, sir. We won’t be able to linger long in the mountains—not without sending back for more supplies. But with what we’ve been promised for tomorrow, there’ll be enough oats for the animals to make it through the mountains.”
“Good. See to it that all goes well tomorrow. The day after tomorrow, we set out.”
Josué exhaled as a familiar excitement took hold of him. The long wait before a battle was always the hardest part. Once the action started, there’d be no time to think. No one might have successfully invade Gabrada from the mountains before—but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. It merely meant that it would be hard and dangerous.
“This is the path we’ll take.” Archambeau pointed towards a thin line drawn on his map. “Memorize it. No copies will be made of this map.”
“Will it be any use without our guides?” Remy asked, frowning as he took in the meandering path.
“No.” Archambeau smiled without humor. “This map is the result of long talks between me and one of our locals, but many of these passes and hidden valleys will be impossible to find for one who hasn’t walked that path before. We’ll depend on them, and they know it.”
Josué followed the small trail, memorizing it. He’d spent countless hours brooding over maps himself and was familiar with the layout of the mountains—at least in theory. His first climb to one of the peaks before them had shown him just what it was that awaited them. A company of men could easily get lost up there, never to return.
But then, riding into battle was just as much of a risk.
Then Josué frowned as his eyes finally came to rest on where the trail ended. “Guadago, sir?”
He’d assumed Archambeau was aiming further north, leaving the mountains in a position that would enable them to strike at the heart of Gabrada’s power—Oromanca, the old seat of the kings of Gabrada. Instead, it seemed that Archambeau’s plan was to attack Guadago, a town famous for its fortifications. Nestled against the mountains, the town was said to have resisted every attacker in a thousand years. Assault from the south was impossible, for that way rose the glaciers. Attack from the north would mean that one had to take the coast of Gabrada first, or otherwise find oneself caught between the town’s defenders and Gabrada’s powerful navy.
Archambeau smiled slowly. “Ever climbed a glacier?” he asked and slapped Josué’s shoulder.
“How’s your deserter holding up?” Remy asked once they’d been dismissed from the colonel’s tent.
It was late; the sun had begun to set. By Archambeau’s orders, there were no large fires for the soldiers to gather around for warmth. It was unlikely that spies had made it so far into Nabonne and past their allies in the mountains, but even so the colonel wouldn’t take risks so close to their goal. Instead, small lamps lit the tents the men used and guards patrolled with torches.
“Well enough,” Josué said, thinking of the moment when Simeon had at last surrendered—truly surrendered. He hadn’t just submitted to Josué’s will; he’d found pleasure in it, just as Josué had known he would.
“You really think he’s going to guide us?”
Josué considered it again for a moment, then nodded. “He isn’t going to betray us. I don’t think he has quite realized what a chance he’s been given, but he is not the sort of man to betray us to Gabrada. He’d feel guilt at dooming our men.”
“He might feel no guilt about dooming you, if he has you in a position where he could do so without harm to the men,” Remy warned.
Josué nodded again. He’d considered that, too. “He might tell himself that—but in the end, we already know what sort of man he is. He’s a deserter. If given a chance, he will run rather than fight.”
“I hope you’re right about that.”
They’d reached the corral where the ponies milled. The sun was almost gone now. Two soldiers stood guard near the enclosure, holding a torch. In the light of the flickering fire, Josué saw the little gray mare raise her head in suspicion, her ears curiously flickering towards him when she realized who’d come.
Josué held out his hand, and a moment later, she approached—slowly, at her own pace, a queen granting an audience to a supplicant. Warm air caressed his palm, then her soft muzzle. He stroked her small, watchful head before he reached into his pocket for the rind of bread he’d saved for her.
“I think I am,” he said. “I wouldn’t endanger the mission merely for my own amusement, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Remy laughed. “Plenty of amusement to be found elsewhere, if that was all you’re after. And you’ve been right about him before.” He nodded at the ponies.
The mare watched Josué with intelligent eyes. He reached out to stroke her broad forehead. “I won’t deny that there is amusement in it as well. I’d be a fool not to take advantage.”
Remy laughed and clasped his shoulder. “And who’d fault you for that? All the same. How wasteful to kill him when he is so very useful.”
The mare finished crunching on her bread. She allowed him to stroke her strong, arched neck for a few moments, then turned and moved back to her herd, still keeping a watchful eye on them.
“What about you?” Josué asked. “No amusements in camp?”
Remy patted his sword with the rakish grin that made him so popular with the women of the towns and villages they’d passed. “This is all the lover I need. At least for as long as we’re out here. Once this is over—well, that’s another story.”
Josué’s own tent was lit by lamps as well, the stove spreading warmth when he returned. Bibeau had busied himself in his absence; the tub had been removed, his table cleaned, a freshly washed and starched shirt readied for the morning.
Simeon was wearing an old shirt once more. Josué hadn’t chained him when he’d left. There was little risk in it with a guard keeping watch on his tent. And as much as Josué liked the view of Simeon naked and in chains, in two days they’d set out for the mountains. He needed to know how much he could trust him until then.
Josué couldn’t deny that he was pleasantly surprised to find Simeon sitting at his table, reading the book the colonel had lent him. It meant nothing, of course; Simeon wasn’t a fool. He knew there was a guard watching the tent. Still, it was good to have confirmation that Simeon wasn’t quite so desperate to use the first time Josué left him alone and unchained to attempt an impossible escape that might have sealed his fate—for if Simeon had tried to escape and been caught by a guard, the colonel would have heard of it and declared Josué’s experiment failed right then and there.
Simeon eyed him warily, his expression almost guilty as he let go of the book and rose from his chair.
It pleased Josué to see that the lessons of the past days had had an effect. Simeon had learned that clothes, chairs, books, the freedom to move without chains were a privilege and not something to take for granted. And perhaps, if Josué had taught that lesson well enough, he’d remember it on their trek through the mountains.
Josué would have preferred to keep him here in this tent for another month, but Simeon would be put to the test sooner than he would have liked. In the end, his fate would be in his own hands. Josué had done what he could. The mountains would show whether Simeon would bend like the little mare or throw away his life.
“Something happened,” Simeon said. “What is it? The camp seems tense.”
“How do you know?” Josué asked curiously. “You haven’t left the tent.”
“It’s quiet outside. Quieter than it usually is. But I can hear movement. There’s more activity than usual.”
Josué eyed Simeon, pleased to find his initial assessment of the man once more validated. Simeon was bright. If he’d used his talents, he could have made it far.
“You’re right.” Josué’s eyes lingered on Simeon’s bare thighs, firm with muscle even after his captivity. The hem shirt was barely long enough to cover the tantalizing length of his cock. “We’ll break camp very soon, and then it’s the mountains for all of us.”
“And for myself?”
“Don’t worry about that now,” Josué said as he came closer. “You have very little to worry about, as long as you do what you’re told.”
“That’s what worries me,” Simeon murmured.
“I’ll let you have clothes,” Josué said. “You’re not pleased about that?”
“You’re very generous.”
“I’m claiming the little gray mare for my own. She’ll be your responsibility. Bibeau will have better things to do than care for my horses.”
Simeon inclined his head, still looking worried. “Will that be my only responsibility?”
“You’ll serve as one of our guides, of course.”
“Of course,” Simeon echoed.
“Just in case we become parted from our allies. You, at least, I can keep an eye on.”
“I think you mean a leash.”
Josué smiled. “And you can keep me warm at night. You’ll like that.”
A flush rose to Simeon’s face once more. “Nothing I can do about that.”
“Don’t worry,” Josué said, his good mood restored. “You’ll be happy enough about it once we have to bed down without a stove.”
Simeon’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t protest. They both knew Josué was right.
“I’ll send Bibeau out tomorrow to gather a warm set of clothes for you. You can help him pack in return.”
Again Simeon nodded after a pause.
“Anything else?”
After a moment of contemplation, Josué shook his head. “Come here.”
Simeon approached reluctantly as Josué leaned over his desk. He spread out his own map of the mountains. The colonel had forbidden them from making copies, but Josué had memorized the route they were supposed to take, just as he’d been told. Even now, he could see the small line curving back and forth between the lines of massive mountains.
“Show me on the map what path you would take if you had to lead a group of soldiers over the mountains.”
Simeon leaned forward over the map, studying it for a moment, and Josué stepped behind him.
He could feel Simeon stiffen when he rested his hands on his hips. He waited, but Simeon didn’t say anything. Then Josué bunched his fingers in the thin fabric of the old shirt and began to raise it very slowly.
Lightly, Josué pressed himself against Simeon, enjoying the firmness of his backside. He could feel Simeon’s strength in the hard muscles beneath his touch—and he knew that Simeon would submit to his hands regardless.
Simeon shivered when he slowly dragged the shirt higher. Josué leaned forward, smiling against his neck. “Weren’t you going to show me something?”
He could feel Simeon swallow. “I’d start here,” he said, pointing to where their camp was situated. “Take us up into this valley—”
Josué slid his hands slowly forward, then up his chest. Simeon’s breathing sped up.
“And from there?”
“From there we cross—here. Up an incline, then down into the next valley.”
Josué’s hands traced higher, finding the firm planes of Simeon’s chest, his muscles pronounced enough that he could lightly squeeze his breast and feel the give.
Simeon exhaled. “Then—then we follow the valley. It takes us to—”
Simeon fell silent again when one of Josué’s thumbs found a nipple. He flicked it lovingly.
“To where?”
Simeon groaned when Josué lightly pinched the other nipple. “Here. It takes us—takes us close to this mountain—”
Slowly, Josué rubbed his hand over Simeon’s chest muscles again, admiring their warmth and the firm softness of them pressing against his hand. Simeon’s heart was racing against his palm.
“Go on,” he said quietly. Simeon’s skin was smooth and hot beneath his hands; he could feel every tremor that ran through him.
“This one—this one is harder. We’ll have to climb halfway up before we can cut across a ridge that takes us to—here.” Simeon’s finger moved to the next line indicating one of the peaks before them. “We’ll be mostly without shelter. Exposed to wind and weather.”
Gently, Josué fingered a small nipple, rolling the taut bud between his fingertips until it had to be aching. Simeon arched into his touch, the map forgotten for a moment until he realized once more where he was and who was touching him. His voice was rough and desperate when he tried to continue.
“There’s... When we descend that ridge eventually, there’s valley, here, which we have to cross. We’ll find water and grass for the animals. There’s a faster way from here, but it’s for a handful of skilled men at most—not many soldiers with ponies. We will have to climb again—here. It will look like we’re turning back, but there’s a way—an old gorge—that gets us to here.”
Josué rubbed his flat hand against the muscles of Simeon’s chest again, eying the map with interest. So far, it seemed like Simeon’s path was indeed following the path that had been marked on the colonel’s map.
“This is the hardest part.” Simeon bit back a sigh when Josué gently pinched his other nipple. “To get from here to there—there’s no good way past that mountain. We’ll ascend. There’s a path, once we’ve made it up high enough, which takes us around the mountain—”
He broke off, breathing heavily, his heart thudding against Josué’s palm. “It’s narrow—dangerous. But just wide enough you can take a pony across it.”
“And after that?” Idly, Josué imagined sliding his hand downward until he could close his fingers around Simeon’s cock.
“If we make it across there without losses, we have as good as made it,” Simeon said hoarsely, trembling against Josué when he used his nail to lightly torment the erect, sensitive nipple. “Then we come to easier passes—here, and here. More dangerous, too, because Gabrada is close—but our people will watch.”
“No longer your people,” Josué corrected. “You’re ours. Mine, more specifically.”
Simeon breathed in as if he wanted to protest, and Josué lovingly pinched the nipple again so that Simeon fell silent, shivering in his grasp.
It was delicious, having him in his power like this. But would it hold in the mountains? The path Simeon had outlined was the same path that had been proposed to the colonel. Surely that was a good sign.
