stark relief against the blue of the sky, unmissable and imposing, and Calarian made a mental note to look into those safety rails they’d talked about after the duke’s accident. He was sure Gretchen could make some. He thought about the forceful way Gretchen hammered her metal. Maybe he and Benji could watch.
They headed up to the bedroom, and were barely in the door before Lars had him backed up against a wall, hands working the front of his trousers open. Calarian grinned down at him, and then let his mouth get captured in a kiss by Benji. He briefly wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about the best of both worlds. And then Lars put his mouth on him, and he didn’t think about anything much at all.
Later—much later—lying in bed, sprawled across Lars’s chest in what was fast becoming his favourite position that didn’t involve actual sex, Calarian yawned out, “Gunther’s definitely skimming.”
It was honestly a struggle to form a sentence, what with having had all his brain cells sucked out through his dick not once but twice, because Benji was a competitive little shit, but the missing stipends were bothering Calarian. There was a system here, and it might be unconventional, but it worked, and he didn’t want to see it destroyed just because of some greedy old man.
“I think so too,” Lars said, running his fingers through Calarian’s hair in a way that made Calarian shiver with delight. “His house is free, like everyone else's, but he’s somehow added a fountain, a rose garden, and a glass conservatory. I smell a rat.”
“Sorry,” Benji mumbled. “That was me. It’s all the cheese burps.”
Lars threw his head back and laughed, his chest rumbling in a most arousing manner where Calarian’s head was resting on it, and Calarian was just about to ask if there wasn’t time for one more quick little something when there he heard the tromp of boots on the stone floor. Before he even knew what was happening, the bedroom door burst open and half a dozen guards stomped inside. They surrounded the bed.
“Which one of you is Ebenjilarian Willowtree?” one of them demanded.
“Um,” said Benji, which seemed like a fair response.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Duke Klaus of Tournel,” the man barked, pointing at Benji. “Grab him.”
And they would have too, except Lars threw the blankets back and stood in front of them with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes blazing like an angry god, and whether it was the shock of seeing him stark naked or the fact he was game to stand up to them at all Calarian wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it was enough that the soldiers froze in place.
“On whose authority?” Lars demanded.
The commander cleared his throat and kept his eyes fixed on Lars’s face, careful not to let his gaze wander down. “Um, Gunther, Your Grace. He says there’s evidence that the duke was murdered and that the elves are planning a revolution.”
Lars looked shocked.
“To be fair,” Calarian said, “Benji has been planning a revolution ever since the moment he learned to talk, and he’s never actually managed to start one yet.” And then, because Benji looked more betrayed by that than being arrested for murder, he mouthed, “Sorry.”
“Duke Klaus wasn’t murdered,” Lars said. “Benji specifically told me that. He said the duke definitely hadn’t been murdered.”
“That’s just what a guilty person would say!” said Gunther, sweeping into the room exactly like some sort of evil villain. “Lars, Lars, Lars... you silly boy!” He sighed deeply. “If someone says, unprompted, that they didn’t murder someone, then what do you think really happened?”
“That they didn’t murder someone?” Lars asked, but his brow was creased in confusion as he puzzled through it.
“I don’t know why I’m asking your opinion. You were probably part of the plan. It’s obvious Klaus should have appointed me his heir, and you’re just some ring-in. It’s almost like someone pointed at the first idiot they saw and said, ‘he’ll do.’”
Calarian and Benji exchanged a guilty look before Calarian said, “Well that's definitely not what happened. At all.”
“Well,” said Benji, raising his index finger. “Not exactly.”
Calarian groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Shut up, Benji. You’re not helping.”
“Oh no, please keep talking,” Gunther said with an expansive gesture. “It will speed up the whole execution process if you just confess.”
“Execution?” Benji squeaked.
“Tournel doesn’t execute people!” Lars said. “We’ve never executed anyone! We normally just give them