Cascadiaus or Bust

By Kerensa

Rating: FRM

Warnings: This takes place sometime in the Middle Ages, so all the names will look odd. Also, there is a character death, not Jim or Blair though.

Disclaimers: I don't own them. I'd be willing to buy them, however, I doubt PetFly would sell them for the $1.98 in my pocket.

Feedback: Uh, yeah! <g>     strifesmistress@yahoo.com

Archive: Sure, just let me know where

Dedicated to my Moonridge Auction winner, Jayne Wilks, for her donation.

A/N: Thanks to my daughter, Caitlin for all her help with the names and information on dogs. Thanks, as always, to my mother, Vivian, for her advice and suggestions.

A/N: An especially big thanks to my beta reader, Bobbie Turnbeaugh.

J’em felt the ground vibrate, just slightly, through the souls of his feet, a moment before he heard the thud behind him. The tall man whirled around, hand reaching for the sword at his side, senses on the alert, as he waited to be attacked. The expected assault never occurred, because what he had heard was not a group of wild ruffians planning to attack their group. Instead, it was one of Lord Saimon's men, tripping and falling to the hard, dirt packed ground.

The young man in question sat up and flushed painfully as he ducked his head in embarrassment. To be fair, it wasn't young Donal's fault that he had missed seeing the partially exposed root and fallen. The young page had been injured two days previously in another fall and he was still a little woozy.

Lord Saimon was beside the smaller man in an instant. Outwardly, the lord was a very large and imposing man, who had a gruff, no-nonsense exterior…which was really a protective shell covering a heart of pure gold. The lord squatted down beside Donal and spoke softly to him. Donal’s little dog, Georgi, a Cairn Terrier, laid down by her master, gazed up at J’em reproachfully and nuzzled his little brown head into the young man’s side. The Sentinel sighed. It was a sad state of affairs when a small dog showed you how insensitive you were being.

J’em looked at the still weakened young man, glanced around at the coming night and sighed. They would have to stop for the day and he didn't want to. However, in good conscience he couldn’t make them push on, even the people who weren’t injured were tired from the long day’s journey. So, he gritted his teeth, making the little muscle on the side of his jaw twitch, and made the announcement.

"We will make camp here for the night," J’em said loudly enough that those nearest him could hear.

Saimon smiled and gave him a grateful nod. Donal looked up embarrassedly. J’em felt a twinge in his heart and smiled reassuringly at the young man, who blushed under the most Senior Sentinel's regard. Most people didn’t think J’em had a heart to ache, but they were wrong. J'em's demeanor was also that of the take-no-prisoners variety, however, J'em's inner layer of softness was there too, only it was much deeper and harder to find than Saimon's.

"Yes, this seems a good place to stop," Saimon agreed, as he looked critically around at the small clearing they were in and at the much larger one just beyond the next stand of trees. Over to their left was easy access to the riverbank and fresh water. There was plenty of space for their large group to spread out and still enough time in the day for the hunters to search for game.

Saimon reached a large hand out and carefully tugged Donal to his feet. The young page's paler hand was dwarfed by Saimon's large and dark one; indeed, Donal's whole body was dwarfed by the big lord. The lord held on to the page until he was steadier on his feet. Saimon covered up his show of concern, out of deference to Donal’s embarrassment, not his own, by brushing dirt and fallen leaves off of Donal’s long tunic and breeches.

The bigger man didn't let go of Donal's hand, even after the page was steadier on his feet, and led him over to a fallen log, so that the smaller man could sit down. It wasn't unusual to see the warrior aiding one of his men, but this young man was especially important to Saimon; he was Saimon's lover of three years. The young man had become a page in Saimon's household when he was only 12 years old, but it was almost five years later before the lord of the household laid eyes on him. After that, there was no going back.

Donal's slender build had virtually guaranteed that the young man would never be the soldier his father wanted him to be, but it was that same delicacy that appealed to Saimon, who towered over Donal by a good foot, at least. The smaller man's pale skin and long, lightly red hair contrasted nicely with Lord Saimon's dark skin and short black hair. Everyone agreed that they were a striking pair.

Saimon held his lover close and prodded the grass around the downed tree, looking for snakes or other predatory animals before he risked sitting his young lover there. He gave J’em a quick, questioning look and waited as J’em used his superior senses of smell, sight and hearing to make sure nothing was waiting to strike. A quick shake of J’em's head had Saimon lowering himself to the ground and swinging his young lover up onto his lap. The tired young man laid his aching head on Saimon’s strong, but soft shoulder.

Georgi gave his own look around and barked when a grasshopper jumped. The little dog gave chase to the small insect and came prancing back self importantly. His gaze seemed to say, “look at me, I just saved my master”. He trotted over to thump down at Saimon’s feet.

“Good boy,” Saimon reassured the little animal. Georgi thumped his tail against the ground a few times happily.

In J'em's opinion, his friend Saimon was a lucky man to have such a devoted lover. After the death of Lady Joane, Saimon's loving wife, the older man had been lonely for a great many years. But now, he had his beloved son Darryle and his most attentive lover to keep him happy.

J’em watched on in carefully hidden envy for a few moments, surrounded by the bustle of his men as they set up camp. Like the two men he was watching, the Sentinel prince was also handsome. But, although he liked to look upon beauty, J'em disdained to care about such things about himself. J'em was tall, but did not have quite as an imposing height as his friend Saimon. He had short, light brown hair and eyes that were the color of a robin’s egg. The Sentinel was well built, not overly muscled, but obviously strong. On the whole, Prince J'em made up a very attractive figure and didn't lack for bed companions; companions for the night or week, but no one to be with him full time.

J’em's men, including Saimon and Donal, were completely devoted to him, but of course, that was hardly the same thing. Likewise, his failure of a marriage to Lady Carolyn had been a disaster from the wedding night. His lady wife had lain there like she was a sacrifice to a higher calling, and although J’em was a very skilled lover, making love to a martyr held no appeal. Her death, almost two years later, had been a tragedy, but also a blessing for the miserable prince and Sentinel.

What the prince desperately wished for was to find a Guide; someone to be there by his side during the day and warm his blankets in the cold of the night. Since reaching his majority, many years ago, J’em had been approached by numerous Guides who wanted to be The Guide of Cascadiaus, but none had ever appealed to his heart or his soul. Due to necessity, J’em had used some of them as temporary Guides, such as when he was going into battle and absolutely needed someone to keep his senses from going wild. But the experiences had left J’em upset in the end and his temporary Guides sick and unwilling to do it more than once.

Swinging his bow off of his back and unsheathing an arrow from his hand tooled leather quiver, J’em left, giving Saimon and Donal some well deserved privacy. The prince headed off into the woods, away from the loud, at least that’s how it seemed to him, camp preparations. Although they didn't like it, J’em's men knew better than to object when their prince headed off on his own. No one doubted that J’em could take care of himself, after all, he was a Sentinel and an excellent soldier, but the kingdom of Cascadiaus had many enemies and they were known to attack in large numbers.

The Sentinel kept this all in mind as he began to follow the tiny tracks in the grass that pointed to a herd of deer somewhere close by. J’em could tell that he was the only one of his group so far that was following this particular herd and reasoned he might be able to bring down a buck or two before they were startled off.

Using his superior sight, J’em was able to walk very quietly. He could see where to put his feet so that no leaves crackled or twigs snapped. He wanted to extend his sense of smell and hearing, in addition to using his enhanced sight, but he couldn’t. It irritated J’em that he had to keep a close rein on his senses lest they get away from him and he had a fade away experience.

'If I had a Guide, I would be able to track for miles around myself,' he reasoned to himself. ‘I wouldn’t have to bother with temporary guides and fade aways would be virtually unheard of.’

However, even without the help that bonding with a Guide would give him, J’em could still use his senses better than anyone in his kingdom. Even the older and more experienced Sentinels were amazed at what J'em could do.

That only made J'em bristle more, to know that he was capable of so much more, but couldn't use his senses to their full extent. And it had been long enough that J’em was beginning to despair of ever finding his soulmate. He was, after all, over 37 winters old. That was a great many years older than any Sentinel had ever taken to find a bondmate; the ones that lived that is.

There had been a great many Sentinels who had died over the centuries for lack of a bondmate. The men and women, who were unbonded and had been for a long time, would be found in the middle of a battle where they had died because they had lowered their senses and been caught unaware. Sometimes the Sentinels would be come upon by a friend, lying on the ground somewhere, lost forever in a fade away. Eventually those people died as well, because most of the time, no one could bring them back and they died from lack of drink. Still more often, a Sentinel would be found in his or her favorite place, dead for no reason.

The prince’s good friend and mentor, Jacque had been found in his room one day, sitting in his favorite chair by the window, dead for no obvious reason. J’em had been the one to find him and the young boy of fourteen had been severely traumatized by the discovery.

J'em reasoned that the pain of out of control senses would drive the desperate Sentinels to force a fade away, thus ending their wretched lives. Either that, or the overwhelming loneliness of having no one to share their minds with had pulled the Sentinels down and forced them to take drastic measures. J'em could understand their pain and, to some extent, agree with their decisions.

That was one of the reasons that J’em had been pushing his group on. The Sentinel could feel a pull, a calling, urging him onward. His head and heart were telling him that up ahead was his bondmate, his soulmate, his Guide.

*****

"Your majesty."

Prince B’Lare stopped walking immediately and turned back to see what Lord Yoel wanted to say to him. The prince was a younger man, only twenty five summers, and short in stature, with amazing, light sapphire blue eyes that made even his worst enemies pause to stare. Those eyes had unintentionally seduced some of the most hard bitten warriors in the countryside and made them want to drop their weapons and join with him and his kingdom. Long, curly, red-brown hair trailed down his back, well past his waist. People had literally begged to be allowed to touch the beautiful mane of hair and several, mostly Sentinels, had been driven to violence when not allowed to do so.

"Yes, Yoel?" B’Lare's voice was a soft, mellow tenor. It flowed over you like a thick stream of warm honey and soothed people when they were upset or hurting. When they weren't in pain, it had the reverse affect and served to inflame the senses.

Because of B’Lare's physical beauty and deep seated kindness, the young prince had to have a at least one body guard at all times, because even some of his own devoted people couldn't resist the urge to just touch him. That wouldn't necessarily have bothered the young prince, except that those touches usually led to more touching and, in some cases, outright molestation, hence the body guards.

"This seems to be a good area in which to rest for the night." Yoel spoke quietly, not wanting to usurp B’Lare's authority with the people following them. As B’Lare’s advisor, it was up to Yoel to steer him in the right direction. Most times that meant giving him a nudge when he was lost in his own little world. Yoel’s voice was melodic and his soft, dark eyes sparkled as he watched his good friend and waited for B’Lare’s very acute mind to stop solving the problems of the kingdom and actually hear what Yoel was saying. It didn’t take long.

B’Lare blinked at Yoel, noticed the laughing eyes, and looked around. He recognized how dark it was getting and sighed. "Yes, of course. Thank you, my good friend." He nodded to the larger man, who smiled back. Speaking louder, B’Lare addressed the rest of his people. "I can see that it is getting late. We will camp here for the night."

People immediately dispersed to set out the tents quickly, before it got too dark to see. Luckily, they had just replenished their supply of drinking water earlier in the day. The hunters, knowing how distracted their prince could get, had been quietly breaking off from the traveling party and then tracking and killing game since mid-afternoon.

There wasn't any grumbling, well, not much anyway, from the little traveling community. It was only the people who had never been with the prince before who dared to complain. The entourage that normally traveled with B'Lare was used to the hit and miss pattern and took it in stride. In fact, there were several indulgent smiles from a few of the older men and women. They loved their prince and were more than happy to put up with his slightly eccentric behavior.

It wasn't that B’Lare was insensitive to his people's needs.  On the contrary, the young prince cared very much for his people and their comfort. It was just that his mind got caught up in thoughts and theories, or distracted by something along the path, and he didn't pay attention to what was going on. It was well known that Prince B’Lare sometimes forgot to eat when he was in his rooms at the castle and if it weren't for his pages and people like Lord Yoel, he would keep working until he became ill.

As a matter of fact, B’Lare was still recovering from an illness of the chest that the physicians said was due to poor eating and sleeping habits. B’Lare wasn’t convinced. He didn’t see how eating sporadically could make him cough. However, he bowed to his physician’s superior knowledge and agreed to listen to Yoel more.

B’Lare’s dog, a beautiful white Borzoi with long, whiteish-blond hair, came bounding up to stand by her master. The large dog came up to B’Lare’s waist and was as much of a companion to the prince as she was a watchdog.

“Hello, sweet girl.” The prince with the long curly hair ran an appreciative hand across the dog’s head with its own very long and silky strands.

Dexhiana, nicknamed Dexi, butted her head underneath B’Lare’s hand for a moment, tongue lolling out from her exertions and tail wagging happily. After a moment, the young man heard some dogs barking in the near distance. Dexi heard it too. Her ears perked up at the sound and before B’Lare could even move his hand, she took off after the other dogs in their party. B’Lare knew that they were probably going to cool off by jumping in the nearby creek. He only hoped that they didn’t jump on any of the people in the creek as well this time.

The prince gave an indulgent smile and shook his head before sitting down in a clear spot underneath one of the towering trees that dotted the landscape. He had extended his empathy just a fraction and could not detect anything living within a few feet, other than a few insects, so he knew it was safe. B’Lare also knew that it was best for him to keep out of everyone’s way. B'Lare didn't hunt unless it was a matter of life or death. He hated to kill living things and only rarely ate the meat that such kills generated. His people knew how to quickly and efficiently set up camp and B’Lare knew that the presence of their prince would only distract them.

Speaking of distractions...B’Lare wasn't sure what was going on, but he was even more preoccupied than usual lately. The further away from Sandrium he got and the closer he came to Cascadiaus, the prince could feel the tug of someone else's mind. He hoped that the person whose soul was calling to him was that of his intended, Prince Stefen, because otherwise there would be a problem.

As a Guide, he was destined to be a helpmate to a Sentinel. To B’Lare's way of thinking, there was one Guide for one Sentinel and he didn't want to risk missing his. That was why he had resisted all offers, no matter how vigorously they were made, to bond with other Sentinels over the last few years.

According to Sandrium law, and that of most other kingdoms as well, a Guide needed to be mature enough to handle the daunting task of helping guide a Sentinel, therefore, Guides had to be at least 21 years of age before they could officially bond. The day B’Lare reached his majority, their kingdom had been inundated with Sentinels. Some were sincerely looking for their one true Guide. Others were more interested in the prestige that bonding with the favorite son of that wealthy kingdom would bring them. And some people saw it as an opportunity to get B’Lare into their beds.

Despite the many and varied attempts at wooing him, B’Lare had declined to join with all of the Sentinels he met. None of them were his Sentinel. Now, however, it was almost 5 years later and B’Lare was beginning to despair. The Guide had thought that he and his Sentinel would have met by now. It was hard to maintain his empathy without the help of a Sentinel's strong barriers, but B’Lare was determined to wait for the right Sentinel to come along.

Unfortunately for him, B’Lare’s mother, Queen Nyomi, had other ideas on the subject. She and King Willyam, of Cascadiaus, had communicated by proxy and decided to unite their kingdoms. This unification would come about when Prince B’Lare married the prince from Cascadiaus.

B’Lare was disgusted when he realized that his mother had brokered away his life, but for the sake of peace for his people, he would follow through. The two kingdoms weren’t at war themselves, but together they stood a better chance of withstanding outside forces.

The Sandriums were a peace loving kingdom who gave their energies more to solving problems of the mind, rather than problems of the world. Many a time, people had traveled from far away to ask the advice of a Sandrium seer to resolve their disagreements. Likewise, Sandrium mediators had gone to different kingdoms and were known to have prevented at least three different wars over the last year alone.

The Cascadians were just the opposite, temperament wise. Their segment of the many different realms was geared more towards wartime and fighting, rather than introspection. They were the guardians of several kingdoms and were often approached about protecting smaller and more vulnerable principalities. There could not have been two sets of more different people.

B'Lare had no way of knowing that the people of Sandrium were just as put out at their queen as B'Lare was. They didn't want their beautiful and generous prince exiled by marriage to the far off kingdom of Cascadiaus. The Cascadians were known to be a cold and unfeeling group of people and B'Lare was warm and outgoing. Their prince would be miserable and there had been some talk of confronting Queen Nyomi. It was only B'Lare's seemingly calm acceptance of the situation that stopped there being an outright rebellion against the usually popular queen.

As he was leaning back against the rough bark of the tree, the slight awareness of something cold and predatory entered B'Lare's mind. He cast out his empathy carefully and followed the trail back to its originator. In a flash, B'Lare had his knife out and he whirled on his perch. The shining blade arched through the air and was quickly imbedded in the snake that had been slithering down from the tree at the back of him. The knife went through the reptile and into the tree behind him.

B'Lare waited until the snake had stopped twitching before he retrieved his knife, letting the dead snake slide off the end and slither to the ground. The reptile was jewel toned, in bright reds and greens, and might have been attractive to look at, if you weren't aware of how deadly it was. One bite from its venomous fangs and B'Lare wouldn't have even been able to yell for help.

B'Lare stepped back a pace and squatted down to wipe his ornate gold and jewel blade on the grass. Smears of bright red blood contrasted with the vibrant grass and ironically matched the coloring of the dead snake. B'Lare's bright blue eyes appraised his knife critically and once again he found himself grateful for the weapon.

While it was true that the prince didn't like to kill anything, he could if pressed to by necessity. Yoel, among others, had taught B’Lare how to defend himself in countless different ways. The use of a dagger was only one of many.

That particular skill had saved him from rape a great many times, much to the surprise of different attackers. Even people who thought sitting beside him at a dinner or other functions earned them the right to see what kind of underclothing B'Lare wore had been surprised. There were a lot of groping people, both men and women, scattered throughout the various kingdoms, that sported scars where B'Lare had stuck them with his innocuous looking jeweled dagger. They made the mistake of underestimating B’Lare, but nobody ever underestimated him twice.

"I had better take care of that," B'Lare said, still eyeing the snake. "Before Yoel starts to worry."

He tucked his knife into the belt on his tunic, where it went back to looking like an ornate jeweled buckle, and glanced around at the surrounding foliage. Using a long, forked stick, which had fallen from the tree at some point in the past, B'Lare scooped up the snake. Its long body was almost twice as long as B'Lare was tall, making it about 11 feet long. He carried the dead creature a few steps further, in among a dense growth of trees, and threw it and the stick away. He was fairly certain that none of his people would venture in that far and be startled by it; his duty to his people, as always, top priority in his mind.

Wiping his hands off, B'Lare nodded in satisfaction at a job well done and wandered over to the fire that some of his people had already stoked up. His mind had already dismissed the threat and was concentrating on some of the problems of the kingdom. B’Lare just knew that something could be planned to help that irrigation problem…

He didn't notice that Henraoi, his personal bodyguard, or Lord Yoel were standing in shocked silence at opposite ends of the clearing. The danger had been spotted and taken care of by B'Lare before either man could even think of moving. Realizing how close they had come to losing their prince, both men were horrified and more than a little shaky. Henraoi, along with his own dog, a beautiful Irish Setter named Parthalon, followed his charge with a whimper. Yoel, still staring at where the snake had been tossed, had to sit down before he collapsed.

Yoel's warm and seductive eyes eventually narrowed in speculation, as his own vastly intelligent mind went over what had happened. "I've never seen a snake such as that one around here before." He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed on it a bit as he contemplated. "In fact, I've never seen a snake like that at all."

Realizing that this was too much of a coincidence, Yoel resolved to watch over his prince even more thoroughly. It was possible that someone from Sandrium didn't want a treaty with Cascadiaus. 'Or perhaps the people of Cascadiaus aren't thrilled with the idea of B'Lare as a mate for their prince,' Yoel wondered. Either way, they were going to have to keep an ever more diligent eye on B'Lare for a while.

Yoel’s dog, a large, fawn colored, Irish wolfhound, came bounding up and flopped down beside her master on the ground. She was wet, although the run to where her master was had dried the animal off somewhat. As B’Lare had thought, the pets and guard dogs of their traveling group had jumped into the water to refresh themselves, much to the irritation of the people trying to clean off themselves.

Serenah seemed to sense her master’s unease and, with body still low to the ground, she inched forward until her head nuzzled its way under Yoel’s hand.

Yoel patted his furry companion’s head distractedly. “Girl, I need you to help watch out for the prince. He’s in more danger than ever.”

Serenah seemed to understand what Yoel was saying to her. The dog raised her head and growled. She looked over where the snake had been tossed and gave another low growl in her throat. Sitting up beside her master, the guard dog looked over to where B’Lare was sitting and seemed to nod in agreement.

*****

The two days that followed were interesting, for both traveling parties.

The closer J’em came to the group from Sandruim, the more agitated he became. His senses were all over the place. One minute, J’em could hear a bird across the valley, the next he didn't hear Donal asking him if he wanted the water skin. Sometimes J’em had to walk with his eyes all but closed, because the dim light of early evening was blinding him. The next morning, the Sentinel stumbled because he didn't see a shallow depression in the earth; one that every other person in their party had seen and stepped over. Smell and taste were as bad. The food either smelled rancid, or was so bland as to be tasteless. And touch...

*****

J’em wanted to tear his skin off. The Sentinel’s sense of touch had spiraled farther and farther out of control since the midday meal and he didn’t know what to do. The techniques that the prince had been taught since childhood weren’t working.

Pain stabbed him in the shoulder and shot all along J’em’s arm, making him wonder if he had been knifed. The Sentinel whirled around, his fist raised to strike. It was only J’em’s superb reflexes that saved Donal from serious harm. That and the sight of Donal's frightened green eyes peering up at him from where the young man had fallen to the ground in fear. J’em realized that he had almost backhanded Donal because the young man accidentally brushed against him while they were walking side by side.

“Donal!” Saimon’s cry broke through J’em’s horror.

“By the maker, are you alright?” J’em could barely speak, his throat had tightened up painfully.

“Y-yes.” Saimon’s young lover was still lying on the ground, as if he were afraid to move. He turned and took Saimon’s extended hand and stood up. “Yes, I’m fine. I am so sorry for whatever I did wrong.” The young man lowered his eyes deferentially and leaned against Saimon.

J’em moaned at the subservience. He had known Donal since the young page was a baby, and to see him cowering in fear was positively painful.

“No, Donal. I’m the one who is sorry. My senses are going crazy and I struck out without even thinking. You have done nothing wrong.”

“Yes, your majesty. Is there anything we can do to help?”

J’em was happy to see the fear leave Donal’s face. Saimon’s countenance was less forgiving, but then, if Saimon had almost attacked his beloved, J’em would be mad too. They all knew how strong the Sentinel was and one blow from his fists could easily have split the younger man’s skull.

“No, thank you anyway. I’ll be alright.”

After J’em had apologized, numerous times, the prince decided to walk a little ways off from the rest of the group. For once, his loyal followers didn't object. They loved their prince, but were afraid of his quick temper and superior fighting skills.

*****

The group from Sandrium wasn’t faring much better. Not because of B’Lare's temper, but because of his pain…

B’Lare moaned and rubbed his forehead. It felt like pressure was building up inside of his skull and if it kept up much longer his head was going to get bigger and bigger until it exploded. Worry and rising feelings of anxiety washed over the younger man, growing stronger with each passing second.

The curly haired man hurried to one side of the path and retched into the bushes. He could feel Henraoi holding him up. The larger man had wrapped one arm around B’Lare's chest, above his heaving stomach and kept B’Lare's long hair out of the way while he vomited. Henraoi's worry slid up a notch and when that concern hit B’Lare, along with Yoel's, who was standing to one side worriedly, B’Lare gave a small cry and threw up again and again, until there was nothing left to come up but some watery bile.

“I’m okay,” B’Lare whispered, his voice raspy. His throat was burning from the vomiting he had done, which had also aggravated the pain in his head. He wiped the pain induced tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. “Let me rest a few minutes.”

B’Lare sat down on the soft grass and leaned back against a small boulder. Yoel laid his cloak over the back of the rock, so it wasn’t too uncomfortable. The young prince tried to relax, knowing that would help more than anything. B’Lare’s dog could sense her master’s upset and settled down on the grass beside him, her large head resting on his bent knee. The uncomplicated feelings from the animal were soothing to B’Lare’s overstressed brain.

A deep breath in and the faint smell of wild onion drifted in his nose. It replaced the sour odor of his illness. The wisp of a breeze floated over his skin, cooling his body slightly and easing his discomfort even further.

He closed his eyes and slumped down until he was lying on the grass. Dexhiana snuggled up next to B’Lare, the big dog offered warmth, as well as comfort.

After a little while, B’Lare’s head felt better; throwing up as he had done had eased the pressure to some extent. The short nap that he had taken had also done wonders. Now that he was rested, B’Lare had retaken control of his empathy. He opened his eyes and was relieved to see that only Henraoi was standing by.

‘That’s a relief,’ B’Lare thought to himself. ‘I’ve humiliated myself enough for one day.’

Not really wanting to, but knowing they needed to press on, B’Lare slowly pulled himself to his feet. His stomach muscles let their displeasure be known…so did Yoel and Henraoi. Dexi was silent on the matter.

“Your majesty, you shouldn’t be up yet,” Henraoi said, as he took hold of B’Lare’s elbow to steady him.

“I…” B’Lare never got to finish what he started to say, because Yoel came hurrying up at that moment.

“Your majesty!”

B’Lare had to smile. Only Yoel, who had been around as long as B’Lare could remember, could say so much in so few words.

“I’m feeling better now, Yoel.” B’Lare looked up into the much taller man’s face and felt his neck twinge as it protested the strain being placed on abused muscles.

“That may be,” Yoel said with a raised eyebrow, showing how much he didn’t believe B’Lare. “However, we could stop here for the night and let you rest. I don’t like not knowing what caused you to be ill.”

B’Lare felt the love and worry and warmth flowing off both men. Each man had a firm grip on one of B’Lare’s elbows and was eyeing their prince.

“It was my empathy,” B’Lare said and watched amusedly as Yoel and Henraoi quickly stepped back, as if that extra hand’s-breadth would make a difference. “It built up in my head and made me ill. I have meditated now and am feeling fine.” At their incredulous looks, he amended his statement. “Alright, I feel better.”

Yoel started to speak again, shaking his head uncertainly. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, I am.” B’Lare looked around and made certain that they were still alone. They were. “I feel like we need to press on. I’m not sure why, but I need to get to Cascadiaus soon.”

He was finally able to convince them to continue with the trip, but it wasn't easy and arguing with them sapped his energy further. B’Lare’s two friends seemed to realize this and finally agreed.

The prince knew it was only a matter of time before he was overwhelmed again. Already, B’Lare could feel the voices trying to crowd into his head. However, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. B’Lare knew that if he warned his two most loyal attendants that it was going to get much worse before it got better they would be even more worried, and B’Lare didn’t think he could handle that right now.

*****

However, as the day drug on, things only worsened for the prince from Sandrium. The closer B’Lare came to Cascadiaus, the stronger his empathy became. It wasn't long before he could feel and hear what his people were thinking. All of his people, all of the time.

B’Lare finally couldn’t stand anymore. He stopped in the middle of the path and clutched his head in both hands. The loud groan that unwillingly escaped from his lips had everyone watching him fearfully.

Lady Meaghan, B’Lare's good friend and tactical advisor, started towards him, intending to help him lay down. The young prince cried out in pain and clutched at his head even harder. Meaghan naturally stopped as soon as she realized that she was hurting him.

"Damn," she cursed. "His empathy must be completely out of control."

Meaghan and Yoel exchanged worried glances. Around them, the pages, warriors and other concerned followers gasped at the news. They turned to tell the people behind them and word spread like a fire along dry grass.

B’Lare had been taught how to control his gift and practiced daily to perfect the talent, but he quickly became overwhelmed, especially when his friends realized what was happening. The strong burst of feeling that he received from their worry and concern literally knocked B’Lare off his feet. With a scream, B’Lare fell over backwards. He was unconscious before his body hit the ground.

*****

When B’Lare finally regained consciousness several hours later, he realized that his head didn't feel like it was forcibly being pulled off of his neck any more. Yoel and Henraoi had moved his tent far away from the rest of the camp. With only the two of them to contend with, B’Lare was quickly able to get his empathy under control.

The rest of that day and the long night that followed were spent in isolation, something that B’Lare hated with a passion. He loved to be around other people, craved it in fact. But this time, there was no help for it. For the first time in years, B’Lare spent the night without a companion by his side. Even Dexi was relegated to Yoel’s tent in an effort to minimize the emotions he was feeling. Henraoi also had to sleep in Yoel's tent, which was back a ways from B’Lare's.

His bodyguard was not happy with the situation. It was his sworn duty to protect his prince and Henraoi didn't see how he could accomplish that if he wasn't by B’Lare's side. However, Henraoi the friend was even more worried. Being around others was literally hurting the young prince. The feelings of Yoel and himself weren't as bad, but when B’Lare was sleeping, his body relaxed and his mental barriers lowered, leaving him susceptible.

After two times of trying to sneak closer and hearing B’Lare begin to whimper in his sleep, Henraoi had to be satisfied with standing guard over B’Lare from outside of Yoel's tent. He could see the opening to his prince's tent and could hear enough to know that B’Lare was safe.

Henraoi was a demi-Sentinel. He had the sight and hearing of a Sentinel, but not the other senses. This made him an excellent guard, because he wasn't overtaken by too much stimulation like a true Sentinel would be. The young guard had never suffered from a fade away and probably never would.

B’Lare spent the rest of the night in a semi-relaxed state. Henraoi made sure that no one came any closer to his tent than necessary, although the bodyguard had to threaten Meaghan to keep her from checking on the prince. Henraoi thought he and the red headed woman were going to end up fighting before it was all over, but she soon realized the situation and backed off.

Henraoi watched her tall figure as she walked away. With his enhanced vision he could keep an eye on her until she was back to her own tent. It wasn’t that he mistrusted the woman; no, he just wanted to watch her. Meaghan was a beauty, with a body that was all long, slender lines, smooth, creamy skin and long, red tresses; she was worth a second glance from anybody.

A quiet moan from B’Lare’s tent snapped Henraoi’s attention back to his charge. He deliberately blanked his mind of more lustful thoughts, just in case they were bothering B’Lare.

*****

Suffice it to say that by the time the two sets of travelers met, things were a little tense.

*****

It was almost evening on the fourth day of travel for B’Lare and the sixth day for J’em when the two groups finally met. With a Sentinel leading the way, J’em's party knew that they were approaching the Sandriums long before they could actually see them. J’em had heard the faint sound of people talking first thing that morning. He had told Saimon, who spread the word.

B’Lare had sensed a large group of people approaching when they stopped for the midday meal. Possibly he would have noticed them sooner, but since his collapse, Yoel had begged B’Lare to use his empathy only a couple of times a day. So, B’Lare only extended his barriers at morning, noon and nighttime to see if anyone was around.

B’Lare's warning had sent his people fluttering around. Camp was broken from the lunch break much later than usual that day, as men and women straightened and cleaned, themselves and the camp gear. Everyone wanted to make a good first impression on the Cascadians who were known to be very fussy about such things.

*****

They rounded a bend in the path and saw the other group waiting for them. It was a good thing the Sandriums had been warned, because the Cascadians were standing as silent and still as statues. Even their pack animals were quietly chewing the grass. For a moment, both groups stood and waited. Then, almost at the same time, J’em stepped forward from one side and Yoel from the other. The two men met at the halfway mark.

J’em eyed Yoel and was dismayed at what he saw. This couldn't *possibly* be the man his father wanted for his brother. Stefen had only been born 26 years before and the dark man in front of him was closer to Lord Saimon's age than J’em's.

"Good day," Yoel said with a slight bow.

"Good day," J’em's reply was tense. "Are you Prince B’Lare?"

Yoel's lips quirked at the abruptly asked question. Now he understood why the younger man was upset. "No. I am Lord Yoel, Prince B’Lare's advisor. And you are?" Yoel twitched an eyebrow questioningly. His own tone was slightly disdainful. Yoel had to show that his group was not going to stand being treated as anything less than equals.

"I am J’em, brother to Prince Stefen and lead Sentinel for Cascadiaus."

'And a prince himself.' Yoel realized as he nodded and bowed more fully than he had before. Now that he knew J’em's rank, Yoel knew that it surpassed his own. 'He's the next in line to the throne,' Yoel surmised as he took note of the lines on J’em's face and realized he was several years older than the prince B’Lare was to bond with.

"And where is Prince B’Lare?" J’em asked. Yoel waited a beat, indicating his disapproval at the lack of respect.

Yoel's attitude seemed to amuse J’em, who had relaxed. He realized that the young prince must be hidden in among the throng of people ahead of him.

"How can we be certain that you are indeed from Cascadiaus and not an enemy in disguise?" A loud voice cut through the conversation and a woman separated herself from the rest and walked towards them. J’em saw Yoel close his eyes as if in pain.

"Who are you, my lady?" J’em stressed the word lady, showing that he didn't really see her as much of one. She certainly looked the part of a lady. Her dress was long and flowing, with wide, bell shaped sleeves. The whole ensemble was dripping with yards of lace that drug through the dirt. J’em could tell that she would have no problem wearing clothes that would be extremely hard to clean, not caring about the extra work that would make for the servants.

"Forgive me, your highness." Yoel waved a hand, indicating the woman standing to his left. "This is Lady Eleanor from the land of Edwards. She is one of Prince B’Lare's counselors."

"I see. Well, you will just have to take my word for it that we are from Cascadiaus. After all, how can I tell you are Prince B’Lare's group?" J’em raised an eyebrow at her.

Lady Edwards gasped indignantly. "Don't be ridiculous. Who else would we be?"

"Exactly," J’em said tightly.

"Oh." The lady had the grace to look embarrassed. "Yes, I suppose it would stretch the imagination for there to be more than two rather large groups meeting up on this path."

J’em’s head snapped to one side when he heard a man’s voice coming out from the middle of a knot of people. After only a moment, some of the Sandriums stepped to one side, clearing a narrow path between them, to reveal a small, smartly dressed man.

The Sentinel’s senses flared up for one agonizing moment and then settled down. For the first time in his life, J’em’s abilities were working like they should. His breeches weren’t making his skin crawl and the air wasn’t burning J’em’s skin. The prince could see and hear great distances without being overwhelmed. Everything hyperaware faded into the background until needed, as it should be, instead of hovering in J’em’s face all the time like an annoying insect.

Prince J’em’s eyes roved over the other man hungrily for a moment and then narrowed in contemplation. He knew that his counterpart was a prince and strong Guide. There was no way that this handsome, but still somehow fragile looking man, was destined for his brother.

J’em was glad in a way. That left a possibility for him to claim the other man who was…he sniffed the air delicately…yes, he was a Guide. The passionately overpowering scent of an unbonded Guide filled his nostrils. J’em blew his breath out deliberately, getting rid of the scent before he forgot all about his mission and claimed the curly haired man walking towards him.

“I am Prince B’Lare.” The young man’s voice was as intoxicating as his scent and for a brief moment in time, J’em let himself be lost in it; then he really listened to what the other man was saying.

“You are the prince and chief Guide of Sandrium?” J’em’s disbelief snapped out of his voice like a bow and arrow, trying to pin the other man in his own lie. He gave the prince a pointed look up and down. He heard one or two of his people snorting in the background, adding their assessment of the other man.

The prince let his disappointment color his thinking. The thought that this intoxicating creature was destined for his brother Stefen, and therefore forever out of his reach, angered the Sentinel. It was unthinkable that they wouldn’t be together; therefore he and the people from Sandrium had to be lying.

If these people thought they could make a fool out of him…

*****

For his part, B’Lare just stood in the middle of the path, stunned at the change in Prince J’em. He too had felt the connection between them and had hoped against hope that this was the man he was destined to wed. Apparently he was dreaming in vain.

He could feel the anger and upset rolling off his people and it was making him nauseated again. B’Lare had been feeling better. The moment he peeked through the circle of his loyal subjects and saw Prince J’em talking with Yoel, B’Lare’s empathy had settled down. The voices in his head had faded to a dull background noise and he’d been able to relax, even though he missed the first words spoken between the two groups.

B’Lare felt his heart speed up and blood flow in a decidedly downwards way. He just had to move closer to the tall and fine-looking man. Added to which, he couldn’t let his people hide him forever.

As soon as he stepped into the clearing, B’Lare could feel hunger and arousal go wild and the younger man had the most desperate desire for this man to be his intended. That hope was crushed when he introduced himself. B’Lare could see the disdain on the other man’s face and knew that he hadn’t measured up to whatever standard the cerulean-eyed Sentinel had expected.

“Yes,” B’Lare stated with certainty, “I am Prince B’Lare.”

The Cascadian crossed his arms over a brown leather jerkin and shook his head in disbelief. B’Lare felt himself go cold all over and then white hot anger surged up. B’Lare was honest, sometimes too honest, in most people’s opinions. To have this man, this Sentinel, call him a liar on their first meeting was an outrage.

B’Lare felt his desire and connection to the other man shutting down. Luckily the emotional assault didn’t renew itself at the same time. B’Lare’s empathy was back under his control, at least for the time being.

Yoel came to stand beside him, with Henraoi at his right flank. “Come, your majesty. You have no need to be insulted this way.” Yoel gave a slight, but unmistakable tug on his elbow. Henraoi kept one gloved hand on his sword and back just a few more steps, Meaghan was swearing under her breath.

B’Lare knew that the next few minutes would determine how he was treated for the rest of his life. If he wanted to, B’Lare could turn around and go back the way he’d come. None of his people would object and Nyomi wouldn’t dare say anything, not considering the insult that had just been delivered. If he didn’t leave, the Cascadian people would think him weak; weaker than they already did, anyway. The young prince seriously thought about leaving for a few moments, not certain if he wanted to stay around such narrow minded people.

“No,” B’Lare said finally. “We are all civilized people. I see no reason to run away because of bad manners.”

Prince J’em’s eyes flashed at that, but considering that he threw out the first volley of insults, he couldn’t object too much. B’Lare watched as a muscle in the corner of the other prince’s jaw twitched in suppressed anger.

“Sire…”

“No, my Lord,” B’Lare said and raised his hand in a warding off gesture.

Yoel immediately bowed his head in submission. Fanning out behind him, B’Lare’s people either bowed or dropped to their knees at their prince’s gesture. Even people like Lady Edwards, who thought she was almost on equal footing with the prince, which she most certainly wasn’t, bowed in respect.

*****

J’em watched with wide eyes as everyone genuflected to the short, curly haired young man. That kind of spontaneous gesture couldn’t be faked. That meant three things, none of them good.

The smaller man was the prince they were waiting for.

His chances of bonding with B’Lare were nonexistent.

And…he had just insulted the other royal family and almost destroyed the peace between their kingdoms.

J’em relaxed his stance and let go of some of his unreasoning anger. Realizing that he’d better make nice to the Sandrians before they changed the prince’s mind, J’em gave an unobtrusive move, echoed by Lord Saimon, and the Cascadians made their own gesture of respect. Prince B’Lare turned from waving his people to their feet and gave a quick glance around.

The Sentinel waited until the Guide turned to him. Blue eyes met blue eyes and J’em bowed to B’Lare. Seemingly unfazed, B’Lare bowed to J’em.

Inside, one part of J’em breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t ruined everything. Another side, the Sentinel part of his mind, howled in pain at the brief, wonderful connection it’d had with its Guide; the connection that was virtually nonexistent now. The side of J’em’s brain that had just found its mate wanted to hurt the other side of itself that had just caused his future mate pain.

The Sentinel had seen B’Lare’s open and interested countenance falter and close up when questioned. While J’em felt bad about his open dismissal of the other prince, the Sentinel was growling.

At the edge of the forest, a black panther paced back and forth, unseen by even the man he was spirit guide for.

*****

The two groups were now traveling as one. It wasn’t an easy truce. B’Lare’s people were very upset at the way their prince had been treated and J’em’s people, for the most part…were too. But they all tried to make nice, because the two kingdoms were soon to be joined together, for better or worse, from now on. So, together they traveled. To be certain, they still maintained a healthy distance from one another, making sure to stay with their own people, but they were all together.

J’em and B’Lare were setting a good example. The two men walked together at the head of the delegation. Neither man was alone; they didn’t trust the other side that much yet.  There were always at least two guards and/or advisors for either man at any given time. However, the others walked back a ways and they at least had the illusion of privacy.

The Sentinel and the Guide talked as they walked along. J’em was trying to see if B’Lare was good enough to be his brother’s mate. He could see that the Sandrium man was smart and gentle, but was he a good man?

“And what would you have done about that?” J’em asked as he watched B’Lare out of the corner of his eye. The longer legged man was amazed at how well the shorter prince was able to keep up with him.

J’em had revised his earlier opinion that B’Lare was fragile. Up close, he could see how strong the dark haired man was. It was just that he appeared to have been ill recently. The man with the unfashionably cropped hair extended his senses to check B’Lare over, because that wouldn’t do at all.

No, as far as J’em could tell, the prince wasn’t ill. ‘That’s a relief,’ the hunter thought to himself.

“I would make the one man pay restitution and a fine for damaging the other man’s home,” B’Lare said.

J’em kept his face neutral as he tried to figure out what his walking companion was talking about. It only took a moment for his memory to catch up. He’d asked B’Lare’s opinion about a domestic matter that his father had dealt with the week before and hadn’t been paying attention then to the answer. J’em really didn’t care, he was just seeing how differently the younger man thought.

“If the offender couldn’t make the monetary restitution, he would be made to arrange for and help rebuild the room himself. Then he and the man whose house was damaged could come to an arrangement of extra work he could do in compensation.”

B’Lare spoke matter-of-factly, like he was used to dealing with these sorts of issues all the time. J’em wondered if he was and compared that idea to how he and Stefen functioned as princes in their own kingdom. The two Cascadians had very little to do with the day to day running of the realm and J’em couldn’t honestly say how he would have answered the query he just gave B’Lare.

J’em listened to the wise advice and wondered what his father would say. Willyam’s slightly less even handed royal decree had ended with Councilman Jadney’s daughter, Prissilla being given in marriage to Lord Gracion. A pretty high price to compensate for the accidental damage to one of Gracion’s lesser, outer buildings, in J’em’s opinion.

“That seems to be very good advice,” J’em stated.

“Indeed,” he heard Saimon mutter. “I’m certain Lady Prissilla would agree.”

J’em pretended he couldn’t hear his advisor’s comment and that he didn’t notice Donal scooting closer to his big lover. The arbitrary way that the king had traded a lady under his care had worried many of the less well placed people in the kingdom.

The Sentinel unobtrusively sniffed the air and could tell that B’Lare was telling the truth and not just saying what sounded good. J’em was glad of that and hoped his brother appreciated the good man coming his way.

*****

B’Lare was secretly amused by the prince’s subtle attempts to find out more about him. He was a little unsettled as well. B’Lare was used to honesty in all things, in fact he demanded it. His mother, Queen Nyomi, was well known for her machinations and B’Lare had lived through her games all his life. He couldn’t abide insincerity and was surprised that J’em was playing mind games with him.

He had noticed the Sentinel scenting him too. That meant J’em thought he was lying and was trying to catch him out.

As soon as B’Lare realized that, any and all amusement he’d been feeling fled. For some unaccountable reason, he felt betrayed, even though there was no reason for him to. He and J’em had only met the day before, after all. The Cascadian prince had no reason to trust him.

And now, B’Lare felt he had no reason to trust J’em.

****

“Please come in.” J’em waved an arm, indicating his sumptuous tent. It befitted someone as regal as a prince, but it was clear that J’em was uncomfortable in such luxurious surroundings. B’Lare guessed that the Sentinel was better suited to roughing it in a warrior’s tent instead.

“Thank you.” B’Lare ducked under the tent flap and saw that there were several dishes of food set out on a rug on the floor. J’em indicated that B’Lare should sit opposite him and B’Lare gracefully lowered himself to his own, smaller rug. He watched as J’em sat down, followed by the other, older man, who was the only additional occupant of the tent.

B’Lare smiled politely at the gray haired man and waited. J’em seemed to catch himself. “Forgive me,” he stated. “This is one of my protocol chancellors, Aleksander.”

“Chancellor.” B’Lare nodded to him.

“My lord.” J’em didn’t notice the slip up, but B’Lare did.

As a prince he should have been addressed as Your Majesty. A lord was farther down on the royal hierarchy. As a chancellor in charge of protocol, Aleksander certainly knew better.

B’Lare extended his empathy just a tad and realized that the slip had been intentional; Aleksander was waiting for him to be insulted. The prince decided to keep the chancellor wondering and deliberately didn’t take offense. Instead he smiled congenially and was glad to see the older man frown in confusion.

Cups of a thick, heavy mead were handed around. It was too rich and sickly sweet for B'Lare's taste, but naturally, he took it anyway. Aleksander picked up a bowl of fruit and passed it to J'em, who looked it over carefully before picking a small red morsel. The bowl was then handed to B'Lare. The chancellor had a smug, superior look on his face, and B'Lare realized there was something more to this than just sharing a meal. He extended his empathy slightly and read the older man.

This was another test! The ceremony was an all important part of the Cascadian culture, and if B'Lare failed to follow the intricate eating ritual to the letter, he wouldn't be welcome in J'em's camp, let alone in their kingdom.

B'Lare eyed the pair in front of him. J'em was waiting patiently, while Chancellor Aleksander's mind radiated confidence that B'Lare, the northern barbarian, would be too ignorant to know what to do. Since B'Lare's kingdom had no such ritual, he quite obviously had no inkling what the ceremony should entail. However, what the stupid man didn't think about or take into consideration, was that all B'Lare, as a strong empathic Guide, had to do, was read his emotions to know what was needed. Very simple really...like the chancellor, apparently.

Looking into the bowl, B'Lare spied the tiny bit of yellow fruit that he was supposed to pick. It was so miniscule that if B'Lare hadn't specifically been searching for it, he would have missed it. The look of consternation on the chancellor's face gave B'Lare a strong sense of satisfaction.

****

The Miari Ceremony lasted for more than an hour. J'em thought the ritual was pointless and time consuming, but his people insisted on such ceremonies and had quite a few that had to be followed. The Sentinel didn't mind them that much; he usually took the time to plan out his next military campaign in his head as he waited. This time, however, he was paying strict attention. Chancellor Aleksander was such a stickler that he would insist that B'Lare and his people not be allowed inside Cascadiaus if the prince failed even one moment of the ceremony.

J'em frowned at B'Lare, concerned with the way the prince was acting. He realized that the younger man hadn't made eye contact with him since he walked into the tent. J'em had grown accustomed to the forthright man looking him straight in the eye all the time. The Cascadian missed seeing those deep blue eyes looking back at him.

The Sentinel pushed up his senses to see what was wrong. B'Lare's heartbeat was thundering in his chest and his breath was coming out in puffs. J'em could see a slight flush to the other man's skin. He remembered how ill the prince had looked when he first met him and began to wonder if B'Lare was ailing again. J'em took a deep breath and decided that what he was sensing wasn't the beginnings of illness, but rather...anger. A lot of it.

'What in the world?' J'em wondered. He looked at the feast laid out in front of them and belatedly wondered if one of the foods was offensive to the other man.

The final cup of sonalar, the very rich mead that was used in the ritual, was passed around, indicating the end of the ceremony, and J'em relaxed. He gave the two men a smile and was surprised when neither one reciprocated.

"Is that all?" B'Lare's voice was cold and deadly.

Aleksander heard the danger in B'Lare's voice and swallowed hard. "Yes, your majesty. You and your people are now officially welcome in the kingdom of Cascadiaus and its outlying territories. O-of which this camp is consider to be."

"I see." B'Lare stood up, back straight and glared down at the older man. "So, now I'm addressed correctly."

J'em shot his irritating chancellor a questioning look and saw the man shrinking away. He thought back through the time they'd been together for the ritual and realized he must have missed a slight somewhere. An intentional one, or B'Lare wouldn't be making a point of it now and Aleksander wouldn't be worried.

"How dare you sit there, like a smug little toad, and give me a test over something that I could not have known about, since my kingdom doesn't waste our time with such things. It is degrading to us both." B'Lare's anger was coming off of the prince in such thick waves that J'em could literally taste it. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but B'Lare wasn't paying attention and missed the abortive gesture.

"You're kingdom approached mine, not the other way around. Do not make the mistake of thinking that I need..." B'Lare snapped his mouth shut, leaving whatever he'd been about to say unsaid.

J'em was impressed. He'd thought B'Lare and his people were extremely passive and had actually been worried about the prince being able to stand up for himself. In point of fact, now that he thought about it, they really hadn't been that passive at all. B'Lare had defended himself when J'em was rude the first time they met, and of B'Lare's people, Yoel, Henroai and Meaghan definitely couldn't be considered passive. J'em's ears still burned with the scathing comments Meaghan had made that first day.

"A word of advice, chancellor," B'Lare snarled out the man's title. "Giving a test to an empath is a waste of time. All I had to do was read your emotions to know what not to do."

"My apologies, your majesty." Aleksander cringed under the onslaught, realizing the meek, pampered puppy he'd thought B'Lare to be was, in reality, a snarling, hard scrabble war dog instead.

J'em could tell the moment when B'Lare realized he was letting his anger control his words. B'Lare straightened up and carefully smoothed his long tunic down on the sides. "Yes," he drawled out disdainfully. "I can tell just how apologetic you really are." With a final, disappointed look at J'em, B'Lare whirled around, making the bottom of his tunic swirl around him in an arc, and slapped the tent flap out of the way on his way out.

The Sentinel watched the still swinging flap for a moment and then turned to glare at the chancellor. J'em was stunned to see that Aleksander had a knowing, smug look on his face. J'em's anger boiled over, not only at the treatment B'Lare had received, but also at the deceit to himself. He had unwittingly hurt the other man and that was not acceptable.

"Where do you get the temerity to pull such a trick?" J'em's snarl wiped the grin off the older man's face. "He is a prince, not some diplomat that has to dance to your tune."

"Your highness, the ceremony must be performed. It is the law..."

"Do his people have anything similar to this in their culture?" J'em interrupted. He waited and watched as the man tried to think up a lie. "Come now, you lived in Sandrium for three summers. If anyone would know their way of life, it's you."

"N-no, sire, they don't. However..."

J'em interrupted again and was pleased to see a flush of irritation creep up from the older man's collar. After all, no one likes to be interrupted, even if it is by their sovereign leader.

"Don't however me. He knew nothing of the ceremony, but you expected him to pass it anyway. That is ridiculous. I know of several military leaders whom father waived the ceremony for." J'em straightened up proudly. "Besides, he did pass the test, despite your best efforts."

Aleksander shook his head. "No, your majesty. He cheated. By using his empathic skills, Prince B'Lare invalidated the test."

The chancellor gasped, his eyes going wide and terrified, when J'em snarled and actually grabbed hold of him by the front of his jacket. The older man's impeccably frothed lace was crushed beyond repair.

"No. By using his empathy, Prince B'Lare showed ingenuity. That more than affirms his right to be included in our company; here and in Cascadiaus."

J'em shoved the man away. The gray haired man fell back against one of the cushions behind his back and accidentally knocked over a couple of bowls of meat. The brightly colored cushions caught J'em's eye. It was only then that he realized that B'Lare hadn't been afforded the courtesy of a backrest and the rug he'd been sitting on was for second use at best.

"He is going to be your prince before long, so you better get used to it." J'em stood up and towered over the cringing man. "Never insult him again, or you will face the consequences."

The Sentinel grabbed up his personal weapons and went out to hunt. He needed time to think how to apologize, yet again, to the other prince.

****

"I beg of you, your highness, let us leave this place," Meaghan's softly accented voice and vivid red hair pointed out her Irish heritage. Her fiery nature and quick temper had as much to do with her personally as it did her native people's temperament.

B'Lare's boiling anger was softened to a low simmer when he looked over and saw how livid Meaghan was for him. The younger man’s nature wouldn’t allow him to stay mad for very long, and when he had such vehement champions on his side, he didn’t need to.

The tall woman striding along at his side had come to Sandrium to be a lady-in-waiting for Queen Nyomi when she was just 18 years old. That position had quickly proved to be untenable, due to the young woman’s tendency to speak her mind, so Meaghan was instead trained to be one of B'Lare's body guards. Even her dog, Belynda, a Norwich Terrier, who was a tiny, but feisty little thing, was an excellent guard.

"You don't have to stay here and be treated this way," Meaghan encouraged.

The prince stopped walked and tilted his head back, looking up through the canopy of green leaves. "It is tempting," he admitted. "Very tempting."

Meaghan waited, not adding any more. It was up to B'Lare to decide and she'd already given her opinion, several times, about the way the Cascadians were acting.

B'Lare shook his head and Meaghan sighed in frustration. The prince sighed with her; this situation was all a lot more complicated than he'd been led to believe by his mother.

"I didn't sense any duplicity in Prince J'em. He seemed puzzled by the whole situation and, I think, just as mad as I was when he realized the truth." B'Lare bent over and patted Belynda 's light brown head absentmindedly. Meaghan's dog liked to comfort her prince, as well as her mistress. "I don't think he knew what his chancellor was doing. It would be unfair to punish J'em...and his brother, Stefen," B'Lare added his intended's name after a moment’s hesitation, "for what one person did."

"You are too nice." Meaghan tucked a long strand of hair behind B'Lare's ear when he straightened up. There was nothing even remotely sensual or seductive about the move; it was a sister taking care of her brother. "Just look at the way you treated Lord Brackett."

B'Lare winced, not happy at being reminded of the other lord. Lord Brackett, from the kingdom of Leigh, had tried to woo B'Lare several years earlier. The younger prince had just turned 17 years of age and was still considered too young to bond, marry, or otherwise attach himself to anyone.

Brackett, an extremely handsome, powerful and rich man, wasn't used to be turned down...by anyone. After trying for several weeks to win B'Lare's favors, the blond haired, green eyed, and much larger man, had changed tactics and attempted to force himself on B'Lare.

"After that bastard tried to rape you, you were too lenient,” Meaghan continued her rant. She whacked at a grass frond with the flat of her sword, cleaving the innocent ground covering in two. “You should have let them push for final retribution instead of insisting on banishment.”

He shuddered at the idea. Final retribution involved either hanging or beheading. In this case it would have included both punishments. Brackett would have been hung until he was almost dead, been allowed to recover slightly, and then beheaded. Such total and cruel measures should only be used in extreme cases, such as murder; at least that was B’Lare’s opinion. B'Lare's argument for leniency for his attacker had been that there is basically good in all people, you just have to search for it. If someone is dead, they can’t learn from their mistakes.

B’Lare shook his head decisively and pushed back the hair that flopped in his face when he moved. “No, he was stopped before he could do anything.” That had been due to Henroai’s vigilance and had led to the page being made into B’Lare’s full-time body guard. The prince knew that if Henroai hadn’t heard his cries for help, Brackett would have succeeded in his attack.

At the time, B’Lare had been untrained in defense and a much smaller man; the next year B’Lare had grown several inches. But during B’Lare’s 17th year, he’d been over a foot shorter than Brackett and weighed a little more than half the weight of the very muscular man. He had been no match for the trained Sentinel and had suffered for the differences.

B’Lare absently rubbed at his left arm, just below the elbow, where there was a lump of uneven bone. Brackett had broken B’Lare’s arm during the assault, when he had twisted it behind B'Lare's back to hold him still. The bone had been damaged enough that it had left a knot, despite the royal physician's best efforts.

He still remembered the feel of the bone snapping and the sound of it, inside as well as outside of his body. B'Lare remembered lying on the cold marble floor of the far off room he'd been drug into, trying not to throw up, and feeling the other man's hands all over his body. The prince had known he was helpless and was going to lose his virginity and his empathic bondability at the same time. The loss of his potential True Sentinel had been the more devastating prospect of the two. Sometimes the terror of that moment still caught him unawares.

“Besides,” B’Lare continued, interrupting his painful memories, “the damage to his pride and the loss of custom was more painful to him.”

Brackett's people were traders, not in goods, but in information. They would seek out knowledge, not only of political news, but of new ideas, potions and medicines, and sell the information to less knowledgeable kingdoms. The information they obtained wasn't always done in a strictly moral way, but no one dared question the sometimes unscrupulous people. They also, amazingly enough, told of fashion news, so the women, and men, in the outer edges of the kingdoms would know when trends changed.

In this way, the kingdom of Leigh made a very profitable living, because everyone wanted to have the newest and the best the world could provide, and most people weren't picky about how they got the ideas. Well…most of them made a good living.

For all these years, since the attack on B’Lare, Brackett himself has been unable to travel in B’Lare's kingdom and has lost some of his social standing. Even other kingdoms were leery of having the blond man traversing their territory. If he would attack a much smaller, young man like he had, what would he do to the defenseless people in their nations?

The once much sought after trader, was now shunned by many people. Those that did approach him were farther down on the social scale and usually wanted him to do something nefarious, not that Brackett objected to that. He did, however, object to the loss of his much cushier lifestyle. Such people couldn't pay nearly as much as lords and ladies, and even kings and queens, could. By now, Brackett’s interest in B’Lare had changed from the desire to possess, to an obsession for revenge.

“I don’t care how much he’s suffered, I still say it wasn’t enough.”

B’Lare smiled at Meaghan. The argument was an old one, but B'Lare knew that Meaghan's worry for his well being kept her arguing on his behalf, so he tried not to get irritated at her obsession with Brackett. “I know you don’t, my good friend. Knowing then what I know now, I might have acted differently.  But that is all behind us and there is nothing that can be gained from hindsight.”

“Huh.” She raised her sword and eyed it speculatively. “I could give his hind a little sight with my…”

“Meaghan!” B’Lare laughed at the red headed woman’s joke. At least, he thought she was joking.

****

Raff leaned against the tree he’d just relieved himself behind and thought over what he’d just overheard. The tall, good looking Sentinel was one of Lord Saimon’s soldiers and a staunchly loyal one of J’em’s followers.

When he’d first heard about the proposed union, Raff hadn’t been sure whether he was for it or not. After some consideration, the soldier had decided that he neither cared for, nor was he against, the Sandrium prince wedding Prince Stefen.

Now, of course, it seemed obvious to him that the prince should be bonded to Prince J’em. The Sentinel desperately needed a Guide and Prince B’Lare sent out strong empathic feelings. That powerful of a Guide would be wasted as a mate to the unSentinel Prince Stefen. And Raff wasn’t the only one to think so.

After hearing the young man and his lady guard talk, Raff was definitely in favor of such a union. B’Lare was not only a strong Guide, but a fair one too. The soldier had heard of Lord Brackett and knew the ruthless way he treated his lovers. He'd even heard about the older man's attack on a prince in one of the far off kingdom's, but hadn't connected that young boy to Prince B'Lare. Meaghan was not the only one who thought the young prince had been too forgiving of his attacker. 

Raff knew that if his abilities were stronger, he’d offer a challenge for the Sandrium man. But someone that capable would be too much for his weaker Sentinel skills.

He sighed in disappointment and took one last sniff of B'Lare's alluring bonding scent. Straightening his clothes, the handsome man turned away from temptation. As the Sentinel headed back into camp, he idly wondered if Prince J’em would try to claim the Guide, or would he let him slip through his fingers.

****

J’em stepped into the enemy camp and braced himself for attack.

Alright. Actually, he walked into the Sandrium part of the sleeping tents and readied himself to grovel if need be. The way B’Lare’s people were glaring at him, made the Sentinel feel as if he were the enemy, though.

The prince glanced over his fellow prince’s tent and hid a smile. It was surprising that the supposedly more material loving Sandrium’s had practical, down-to-earth tents, while his people, who were supposed to be more militaristic and therefore, supposedly less interested in fripperies, had the opulent tents.

J’em knocked on one of the framework poles to B’Lare’s tent. He only had to wait a moment.

“Yes?” B’Lare’s voice was muffled by the heavy cloth.

“May I come in?” J’em asked and there was a pause. The Sentinel wondered if he was going to be refused permission to enter. He wouldn’t blame B’Lare if he didn’t.

“Yes, come in.”

J’em let the door hanging close behind him and automatically pushed up his eyesight to compensate for the dark interior. B’Lare was sitting, cross-legged on the floor, his beautiful white dog lying stretched out beside him.

“How may I help you?” B’Lare asked in a polite, if not very encouraging, tone of voice.

Not one to let himself be discouraged so easily, J’em nodded politely. “I would like to apologize for my chancellor’s behavior. He had no right to treat you that way and has been reprimanded for it.”

“Like a naughty child?” B’Lare asked sardonically.

“No, like a grown man who is now missing part of his hind quarters,” J’em answered back in a serious tone of voice.

B’Lare snorted at the joke, but smiled up at J’em; the Sentinel felt his knees weaken at the sight. The shining blues eyes, framed in masses of curls, sent J’em’s libido shooting through the tent top. He again felt his body urging him to lay claim to the Guide, and his brother be damned.

“Very well then.”

J’em felt his heart lurch and for one brief moment thought B’Lare had read his intentions and was agreeing with him. When the younger man gestured for J’em to sit down, the disappointment was so intense that it actually hurt the Sentinel.

Aching inside, J’em became irrationally annoyed with the empathic man. How could he not feel J’em’s hunger? How could he not be overcome as well?

****

B’Lare had a tight control over his empathy. That was the only way he could handle being around the other man right now.

On the one hand, B’Lare was still upset at how the Cascadians were treating him. Yet, on the other…on the other hand, B’Lare was fiercely attracted to the Sentinel. J’em was his Sentinel, B’Lare could feel it deep in his bones, and it made him ache. Yet, he was promised to Prince Stefen, J’em’s brother, and that wasn’t a commitment he could break easily.

He’d been meditating when the prince had knocked. It had taken B’Lare a few moments to wrestle down the mating urge that hearing the older man’s voice had drug up. Seeing J’em’s large and well formed figure framed in the tent opening hadn’t helped anything.

B’Lare gave J’em what he hoped was a welcoming smile and waved for him to sit down. J’em’s apology was unexpected and nice. Unfortunately, B’Lare didn’t realize that the Sentinel’s rather mercurial mood had shifted once again.

“I was just about to eat, would you join me?” B’Lare asked.

“All right.” Preoccupied with his own feelings, and keeping his empathy tamped down, B’Lare missed the odd tone in J’em’s voice and the searching look that was being sent his way. Dexhiana raised her head and gave J’em an odd look; her canine mind, used to being in close proximity to B'Lare's empathy, picked up on the anger when her master missed it.

B’Lare handed the platter, with several pieces of cut up bread, cheeses and meat slices on it, to the other prince. The moment their fingers touched, B’Lare’s emphatic abilities surged up, without any intention on his part.

The platter dropped to the ground, food scattering everywhere, as J’em’s strong emotions raced into B’Lare’s brain. Anger, suspicion and hurt hit him in the chest.

“You think this is a test,” B’Lare said incredulously.

“Uhm…” It was apparent that the Sentinel didn’t know what to say.

“You think that I’ve decided to turn the tables on you and give some bizarre ritual that you don’t even know about, just to get my own back at you,” B’Lare’s voice rose in indignation.

J’em’s own face darkened with suppressed anger. “What do you expect me to think?” The Sentinel waved at the ruined food. “The first time in your tent and you’re giving me food to eat.”

“I expect…” Dexi stood up and barked. B’Lare took a deep breath and deliberately lowered his voice, not realizing that they’d been