Galen [Beyond the Veil 4] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) Read online

  “Hmm, it is. Beautiful but I prefer not to compare between this and that.”

  Darix didn’t show any sign of embarrassment to be rebuffed gently, and instead, just continued on his way. “But of course, Highness.” They came to a stop at a door leading to a room. “This would be your room for the duration of your stay, Highness. We made sure it was up to the standard of one of your caliber. Dinner is usually served once it begins to get dark. A servant will call for you. Please, have a good rest.”

  “Much thanks,” Galen said and watched as Darix bowed to him once more before taking his leave.

  With a sigh, Galen pulled the door open and entered the room, shutting it behind him as he took in the interior of the room. There was a large-sized bed to one corner of the room, an arrangement of receiving chairs situated around a center table, and a wardrobe in the room. Moving over to one of the sofas, he settled onto it, running a hand down his face and sighing.

  A knock sounded at the door and drew his attention to it. “Come in.”

  The door opened, and several servants floated into the room, bowing to him as they brought his luggage into the room and went about arranging his things for him.

  “May we draw a bath for you, Your Highness?” one of the male servants asked.

  Nodding, Galen relaxed further into the sofa, leaning his head back and resting it against the sofa. “Yes.”

  “As you wish, Highness,” the servant said before moving along with the others and going to prepare the bath for their visiting soon-to-be king.

  Galen closed his eyes, allowing himself to rest momentarily and ignoring the sound of footsteps moving to and fro in the room all around him. The three-day journey from the castle to this part of the border had not softened him any for the idea of an arranged marriage, and neither had meeting his groom-to-be impressed him.

  In fact, he was not at all attracted to the man, and the little time they had spent together had done nothing to satisfy him yet. He just hoped he would be able to stand being married to him. Otherwise, it would be a hell of a marriage to suffer through for the rest of his life.

  “Your Highness, your bath is ready.”

  The voice of the servant interrupted his inner musing and peace, but he was glad for the interruption since he did not want to dwell on the subject at all. Getting to his feet, he allowed the servants to lead him to the bathing area and begin undressing him, stopping one of the servants when he moved to remove his blade. He pulled the daggers out of his side and set them down, then stood straight once more and allowed them to finish undressing him.

  Once done, he walked into the water and settled down into it, a hiss and a sigh releasing from his lips as he closed his eyes and settled in for the servants to begin washing him. He sighed in contentment as the servants washed away several days of riding from his body, sighing as he finally began to feel refreshed and clean one more.

  They oiled him down once he was done bathing, and stepped into the robe they held out to him. He tied the sash around his waist once they were done before padding into the bedroom. He motioned for them to leave him be while he lay down on the bed and took a nap before dinner later in the day.

  * * * *

  “What has you so down?” Jory asked.

  They were in a field of wheat, seated on the floor and relaxing, their usual routine whenever they wanted to get out together and meet in a place where no one would easily find them. Even though they had been friends since youth, Jory’s situation was not the same as Finc. Whereas Finc did not feel as though he was wanted by his father’s family and was usually ignored when not being bossed around by Darix and informed every chance a dig could be made that he was not really a part of the family—it was the exact opposite for Jory.

  The young Fae was so doted on by his parents and siblings that Finc had found it hard to relate to the man at first. If not for Jory’s dogged determination, he would still be reluctant to be friends with him. Finc’s unwillingness to talk or listen to Jory had not deterred the young boy when they had first met at all. In fact, it had rather spurred Jory on to try harder to become friends with the silent sullen boy whom other boys ridiculed.

  Once when a few of the elite young boys had ganged up on Finc, taunting him, Jory had come to his rescue and with his family bearing backing him up, drove all the others away. Jory’s family and Finc’s father were two of the most powerful families in the area, and having Jory back him up had deterred anyone from making any other unfavorable move his way. No one was willing to be on the bad side of Jory’s family.

  Since then, Finc had slowly allowed his guard down and accepted that maybe, just maybe, there was someone still willing to stick by him and be his friend. Since then, the two had become inseparable.

  “I am not down.” Finc protested.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.” Finc protested.

  “Yes, you are, and besides, if you weren’t, you’d be busy filling these pages with words and I’d have to pry you away from them.” Flipping the notepad over, Jory continued, “But, you’re not even focused on it. Something’s definitely up.”

  Finc scoffed. “How would you know? You’re not the brightest chap in the lot, and you’re definitely not the most observant either.”

  Jory sucked in a mock offended breath, shoving Finc sideways. “Take that back. I am most definitely observant and not bright? What a joke.”

  Finc burst into laughter at the indignant look on his friend’s face. “Oh really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Then tell me how come you don’t see how Ashdal looks at you.”

  “Ashdal? Please, he doesn’t look at me as anything but a bothersome youth. He must have hated me following him everywhere and even hiding to spy on him,” Jory said, twirling a stem of wheat in his hand as he leaned back so that he lay on the ground, supporting his weight with his elbow as his gaze drifted far away and his voice turned wistful.

  “Maybe you should tell him how you feel,” Finc suggested gently.

  Jory turned to face Finc, scoffing. “What good would it do? I know I feel a bond with him, but I’m too young he says. I do not know whether he feels the same as me or not. He rarely likes being anywhere close to me.”

  “Ashdal is an idiot. At the very least, he could try getting close to you so that when you do reach your maturity, it would be easier for the both of you.”

  “I told you I do not know if he feels it. I mean, how could he feel it and have no problem treating me as he does, as though he does not see me?” Jory asked, anguish on his face.

  Ashdal was a lord in his own right. An orphan who had been born late to parents in their old age, they had not lived to see him past his hundredth and fiftieth year. When Jory and Finc had met him, it had been by accident, when the man had saved them from being run over by a speeding carriage. He had then proceeded to lecture them on the need for their safety before leading them home with Jory staring at the man in shock and an air of hero worship.

  Jory had been taken by the older man ever since then and proceeded to find out everything he could about the man and even go as far as to get into the man’s path as often as possible. Finc had more than once been roped into Jory’s harebrained schemes to get the attention of Lord Ashdal. Over the years, his friend had only become more and more outrageous with the plans he came up with to smoothly slide into Ashdal’s path, and it seemed impossible the man had not known what his friend had been up to.

  “I’m sure he feels something, Jory. If you feel it, he definitely does also. It’s up to you not to give up. If you can, find means and ways to visit his home. He can’t very well turn you away without a good reason.”

  “And if he asks why I am there?”

  “Simple. You want to get to know your mate better. Just go straight to the point. If subtle doesn’t work on him, I suggest you try a frontal attack,” Finc said so matter-of-factly that Jory had no choice than to nod his head and smile at his blunt friend.

&n
bsp; “Anyway, enough about me. You will not distract me today, Finc. Now tell me what the matter is,” Jory said, eyeing his friend with suspicion.

  Finc sighed and leaned back with both hands behind him, tilting his head up to the clear sky and his eyes closed. “I am not sure, but I think I might have met my mate.”

  Chapter Three

  “What?” Jory exclaimed.

  Finc sighed but did not respond, just left his upturned face against the sky and his eyes closed, enjoying the breeze from the late afternoon sky.

  “Did you say what I think I heard you say?” Jory asked.

  “Hmm,” Finc agreed.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Finc turned to face his friend, eyeing the man for a while without saying anything. He so badly wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat.

  “Finc?”

  “He’s…” Finc barked out a disbelieving laugh. “He’s…Darix’s intended groom.”

  “Say what?” Jory exclaimed once more before his gaze turned sympathetic. “Are you sure?”

  Finc shook his head, and a single tear slid down his face. “No. But I’m almost positive about it.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  Finc sighed and then drew his knees up until he was able to wrap his arms around said knees and lean his chin on it, turning to face Jory, his one and only confidant. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “At the very beginning,” Jory said, giving Finc’s hand a squeeze.

  “I was staying out of Darix’s way, what with his groom coming for him earlier today and all. You know how he gets.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Finc nodded. “I was outside. Hiding in the alcove when they came riding in. I saw him from afar, you know. Not enough of a close look to really tell if my feelings were real or not.”

  “You always had good instincts, Finc. I’d trust it if you really felt this way.”

  Finc withdrew his hand from Jory’s, feeling frustrated and running his hand over his blond tresses. “I can’t trust my instinct this time, Jory. I mean, he’s Darix’s intended, and what more, he’s soon to be the king of this kingdom. What would a king want with me? With all my baggage, not to mention the trouble that comes with me and the political implication of it all?” Finc shook his head. “He won’t want me. Trust me, I know.”

  “Did your mate tell you this?”

  “He’s not my mate.”

  “Yet. Now answer me. Did he tell you this?”

  Finc shook his head slowly. “I haven’t met him yet.”

  “And isn’t there an ongoing feast held in his honor right now at your house?” Jory asked.

  “Well…yeesss,” Finc said, dragging out the words as he wondered what was going through his friend’s head right now.

  “And you are here because?”

  “You know why. I’m trying to avoid the whole thing. He might not be my mate, and Darix would never let it go it I cause a commotion. Not to mention that my father might put me out of the house faster than I am ready for,” Finc said, shaking his head. “It’s better if I don’t go.”

  “Better for whom? You? Your family, who do not give a damn about you?”

  Finc sucked in a breath at the cruel words.

  “I’m just telling it as it is, Finc. They really don’t give a damn about you, and I’ll be damned if I let you pass up an opportunity to verify that it’s your mate Darix is going to steal away from you.”

  Finc bit his bottom lip. “I-I can’t. I can’t go there. I might be wrong for all I know, and if I’m not, it’s sure to cause such a commotion I’m not sure I would be able to deal with it.” Finc turned his face away. “Even if I do find out that he’s my fated mate, what good would it do? He has to marry Darix. You know how my brother is. Do you truly believe he would give up without a fight? Allow me to take away the most promising and favorable marriage from him all because his highness turns out to be my mate? Don’t be naïve.”

  “So what if it was the best prospect for Darix? I didn’t realize you cared one way or the other about your brother. And a fated mate trumps any other type of mating. Especially since his highness is still single. Now get up and come with me because like it or not, I’m marching you back there right now to verify whether he’s your fated mate or not,” Jory said, getting to his feet and holding his hand out for Finc to take.

  “I’m not going,” Finc said.

  “You would rather your mate be stolen from right under you?”

  Finc shook his head. “I told you I’m not sure he’s my mate.”

  “Then we’ll go verify together,” Jory said.

  Finc stared at Jory’s outstretched hand, longing to take it but afraid to do so. “I-I don’t know, Jory. This is a huge risk.”

  “I promise if the fallout is great, my family and I will take you in. Now get up, Finc. No more excuses,” Jory said, and when Finc opened his mouth to make another protest, Jory shook his head, frowning. “I will carry you there myself if I have to, Finc. Best to meet your mate on our own two legs than being carried to him kicking and screaming.”

  Finc smiled then. “With what muscles are you going to use to carry me? We’re the same build and height.”

  “Fine. But I mean it. Get up, Finc, and let’s go.”

  Finc groaned but got to his feet, picking up his writing pad along with him. “Happy now?”

  “Not until I have you in front of his highness,” Jory retorted.

  Finc swung his arm around Jory’s neck as they began the trek back to Finc’s family compound. “You’re really annoying at times, Jory. I do wonder why I put up with you.”

  “You’ll thank me later. And make sure you invite me to your mating ceremony or else…” Jory said.

  “Is that supposed to be a threat?” Finc asked, laughing. “He might not be my mate though, you know,” Finc pointed out.

  “Either way, if you ever carry on a mating ceremony without me, be prepared for what I’ll do to you, you little shit.”

  “I’m older than you. Shouldn’t I be the one calling you a little shit?” Finc asked in amusement.

  Jory wrinkled his nose. “Definitely not.”

  “Then you can’t call me that either,” Finc said.

  Jory shook his head. “Fine. How about we don’t call each other that?”

  “Good,” Finc said.

  “Good,” Jory said.

  They stared at each other, and then before they knew it, burst out into laughter together as they teased each other all the way back to Finc’s house.

  “Just so you know. I’m never going to have a mating ceremony without you and the same better apply to you and Ashdal,” Finc said and then ducked when Jory tried to hit him on the back of his head.

  “You know I won’t. That is if Ashdal ever gets his head out of his ass,” Jory said, wrinkling his nose.

  “I’ll make sure to let him know you said that,” Finc teased.

  “Don’t you dare,” Jory said.

  “Who would stop me?” Finc asked, walking backward as he grinned devilishly at his friend.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Jory said, his voice unsure.

  A glint appeared in Finc’s eyes as he continued to move just out of Jory’s reach. “Really? After what you’re making me do?”

  “You…damn it,” Jory said before going after Finc.

  Finc laughed, dancing out of his friend’s reach and racing away from the man. He glanced back behind him several times to gauge the distance between the two of them before picking up his speed and chuckling all the way.

  “Don’t let me catch you, Finc,” Jory said, chasing after his friend and smiling at the carefree look on the other man’s face.

  “As if you can,” Finc yelled back, enjoying himself as he taunted his friend with his slowness.

  “Just you wait till I get you,” Jory yelled at his friend, joining in chuckling and shaking his head.

  Their voices floated into the sky, their voi
ces rang out in a guffaw and the playfulness drew away Finc’s earlier worries and fears. As always, simply being around Jory was enough to reassure him and put him back into a carefree mood. His friend as always just knew when he needed a bit of lightheartedness even if it wasn’t done deliberately, and Finc could never remain down in the presence of the other man.

  Jory was always there to remind him that he had others who cared very much about him. Others who would never let him down and who would never let him allow his fears to rule him. Jory was like a real brother to him, even more than his own half-brother was, and he would always be grateful to the man for never allowing him to push him away.

  When Finc and Jory walked into the compound, the first thing that hit them was the sound of music filling the house, followed by the cacophony of voices raised in conversation. Panic filled Finc’s chest, and he froze in his tracks, unable to continue, to take a step forward or to take one in retreat.

  “It will be all right, Finc. I’m here no matter what,” Jory said, running a hand down his friend’s back in reassurance and comfort before gently pushing the man forward.

  Together, they made their way farther into the house to the separate building where meals were eaten, and the voices became much clearer and louder in Finc’s ears. He felt his blood rushing rapidly through his body, his face heating up. Whether in embarrassment or apprehension or anxiety, he couldn’t quite pin it down. His heart thundered in his chest, and his palms were sweaty.

  His steps were shaky, and it took everything in him not to turn around and run away. That Jory would not allow him to either was both a blessing and a curse because he didn’t know whether to be grateful or to give in to the panic coursing through his veins.

  Finc stepped farther into the meal room, moving to where his father’s family sat, entertaining their son’s intended, and stopped in his track. The soon-to-be king had his back to him, and he was taller than he’d thought earlier, and even from the back, the man looked striking. His broad shoulders and trim hips enclosed in formfitting clothes, which highlighted his muscular figure, made Finc’s mouth water.