Chapter 338 - Sleeping arrangements

Chapter 338: Chapter 338 - Sleeping arrangements

They left the training grounds together and followed the lantern-lit path back through the imperial camp.

It had grown considerably quieter while they were training. Most of the fires had burned low, and only the soldiers assigned to night watch remained outside in any real numbers. Occasionally, Eric caught the murmur of voices from one of the tents or the soft clink of armor as a patrol passed, but otherwise the enormous camp had settled into an unusual stillness.

Eric barely noticed any of it.

His mind remained on the bow.

He could still feel the string against his fingertips.

The sensation bothered him because it had felt so natural. Even now, if someone placed another bow in his hands, Eric was almost certain he could turn around and hit whatever target they pointed toward.

He looked down at his fingers.

Whose skill was it?

Was it something this body had learned before he came here? If so, why had nobody mentioned it? Surely someone capable of hitting a flying target in darkness would have been known for it.

And if the skill hadn’t belonged to this body...

Then where had it come from?

"You’re thinking about it again."

Eric looked sideways.

Ryan was walking beside him with his hands clasped loosely behind his back.

"You’re not?"

"I am."

Eric waited.

Ryan said nothing else.

"That’s it?"

Ryan glanced at him. "What would you like me to say?"

"I don’t know. Something useful. Perhaps an explanation for why I apparently became an expert archer without knowing about it."

"I don’t have one."

Eric sighed. "Useless."

Ryan accepted the insult without complaint.

They walked several more steps before Ryan spoke again.

"You were remarkable."

Eric looked at him.

The praise had been so straightforward that for a second he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Ryan wasn’t teasing him. There was no hidden amusement behind the words. He genuinely looked impressed.

Eric turned his gaze forward again.

"It was just archery."

"No. It wasn’t."

There was something in Ryan’s voice that made Eric glance at him again.

Pride.

The man actually sounded proud of him.

Eric found that strangely embarrassing. He had spent most of his time since arriving in this world being confused, threatened, dressed like a woman, thrown into an unwanted marriage and repeatedly forced into situations where everyone seemed to know more than he did. Even learning to ride had ended with him clinging to a horse while Ryan tried not to laugh.

Yet Ryan had looked at him tonight as though Eric had done something extraordinary.

For some reason, that made the discovery feel slightly less unsettling.

"Don’t get used to praising me," Eric muttered.

Ryan looked amused. "Why?"

"You’ll inflate my ego."

"I think that danger already passed some time ago."

Eric elbowed him.

Ryan laughed again.

By the time they reached their tent, Eric was finally beginning to feel the exhaustion Ryan had warned him about. His thighs ached from riding, his shoulders were starting to complain from repeatedly drawing the bow, and the excitement that had kept him alert throughout the training session was slowly fading.

He pushed aside the entrance flap and stepped inside.

Warm lantern light filled the tent. A brazier had been left burning low near one wall, keeping away the chill of the night. Fresh water had been prepared behind the changing screen, and someone had thoughtfully left a bowl of grapes and several other refreshments on a small table.

Eric took two steps.

Then stopped.

Ryan nearly walked into him.

Neither man said anything.

There was one bed.

It was admittedly a very large bed, wide enough that two people could probably sleep on it without touching if they made an effort.

That did not change the fact that there was only one.

Eric slowly turned his head.

Ryan looked at him.

They stared at each other.

Eric suddenly remembered, with painful clarity, that everyone in this camp believed they were newlyweds.

Of course there was one bed.

Why would anyone prepare separate sleeping arrangements for a married couple?

Ryan cleared his throat.

"You should sleep. I’ll wash before I go."

Eric’s eyes narrowed.

"Go where?"

"I’ll sleep with the soldiers."

He said it as though the solution were perfectly obvious.

Eric stared at him.

Then he imagined what would happen tomorrow morning.

General Ryan leaving his marital tent in the middle of the night to sleep among his soldiers while his newlywed spouse remained alone. Half the camp would know before breakfast. By lunchtime, someone would probably have invented an entire argument between them. Considering how closely the Emperor was already watching their marriage, that seemed like an extremely stupid problem to create for themselves.

"Absolutely not."

Ryan paused. "What?"

"Gossip will start if you do that. They’ll think something happened between us."

Ryan seemed to consider that.

Eric crossed his arms. "I’m already going to get picked at enough tomorrow. I don’t need everyone staring at me because my husband abandoned our tent on the first night of the hunt."

Ryan’s gaze shifted toward the bed.

"There is only one."

"I can see that."

Ryan looked back at him.

Eric hesitated for half a second.

"We can share."

Silence.

Ryan’s eyebrows rose slightly.

"Don’t make that face."

"I didn’t make a face."

"You did."

Eric walked toward the bed before he could reconsider what he had just suggested. He pulled several pillows from the head of the mattress and began arranging them in a straight line down the center.

Ryan watched him.

One pillow.

Then another.

Then a third.

Eric adjusted them until he had constructed a respectable barrier separating the mattress into two distinct territories.

"There."

Ryan stared at it.

Eric pointed to one side.

"Your side."

Then he pointed to the other.

"My side."

Ryan’s lips twitched.

Eric immediately narrowed his eyes. "You’d better not cross this boundary while I’m asleep. If I wake up and find even one arm on my half of the bed, you’ll pay for it."

"Understood."

"Or a leg."

"Understood."

"Or—"

"I understand the boundary, Eric."

"Good."

Ryan’s mouth curved again.

Eric caught it.

"Why are you smiling?"

"I’m not."

"You are."

Ryan wisely turned away before Eric could continue interrogating him.

"I’m going to wash."

"Go."

Ryan disappeared behind the changing screen.

Eric removed his outer robe and sat down on his side of the bed, suddenly grateful to be off his feet. His legs were already aching more than they had when he left the training grounds. He stretched one carefully and winced.

Ryan had been right about stopping.

Not that Eric intended to tell him that.

He reached toward the bowl of grapes beside the bed.

Then he heard the quiet rustle of fabric from behind the screen.

His attention wandered over.

The changing screen was made from thin material. Normally, that wouldn’t have mattered, except someone had placed one of the lanterns almost directly behind it.

Ryan’s silhouette was clearly visible.

Eric’s hand stopped halfway toward the grapes.

Ryan was undressing.

Eric stared.

He couldn’t actually see anything. The screen reduced Ryan to a dark outline as he removed the layers of his clothing and folded them somewhere out of sight.

That should have made the entire thing completely uninteresting.

Unfortunately, it did not.

Even reduced to a shadow, there was no mistaking the breadth of Ryan’s shoulders or the shape of his body beneath his clothing. Eric had already known the man was muscular. Obviously he was. Ryan was a general who spent an unreasonable amount of his life riding horses, fighting people and swinging weapons around.

Eric had seen him fight.

He had seen how his armor fitted across his shoulders.

He had even noticed more than he should have earlier when Ryan was helping him dress.

Apparently knowing Ryan had a good body and watching the silhouette of him undressing were two very different experiences.

Eric slowly picked up a grape.

He put it into his mouth.

His eyes remained on the screen.

Ryan lifted his arms to loosen the final layer of his clothing.

The shadow shifted.

Eric chewed.

Very slowly.

Ryan pulled the garment over his head.

Eric reached for another grape.

"This is ridiculous," he whispered.

He should look away.

Obviously.

There was no reason whatsoever for him to continue staring. Ryan was merely washing. Eric had seen attractive men before. He had certainly seen far more revealing things than a shadow projected onto a piece of cloth.

Water splashed softly into the basin.

Eric ate another grape.

He continued staring.

Ryan bent forward slightly.

The movement caused the muscles along his back and shoulders to become even more obvious in silhouette.

Eric’s fingers froze over the bowl.

His gaze travelled down before he caught himself.

He immediately looked at the grape in his hand.

What was he doing?

He was sitting comfortably on a bed, eating fruit and watching his husband bathe through a screen like some shameless spectator.

His husband.

Eric nearly choked on the grape.

He coughed into his fist and quickly looked toward the screen to make sure Ryan hadn’t heard.

The silhouette paused.

Eric froze.

"Are you all right?" Ryan called.

"Fine."

A brief silence followed.

"You sound strange."

"I swallowed wrong. Keep washing."

Ryan was quiet for another second.

Then the water moved again.

Eric exhaled.

That had been close.

He picked up another grape and stared at it with deep suspicion, as though the fruit itself had somehow caused his current problem.

He should go to sleep.

That would solve everything.

Eric shifted toward the pillows, intending to lie down, only for movement behind the screen to catch his attention again.

His head turned automatically.

Ryan had apparently begun washing his upper body. His arms moved slowly, the shifting lantern light making the silhouette change each time he turned.

Eric stared for several seconds before realizing what he was doing.

Again.

He slapped his thigh softly.

"Behave," he muttered under his breath.

The shadow continued moving.

Eric dragged his gaze toward the opposite wall.

That worked for perhaps five seconds.

Then he looked back.

His body was beginning to react to the sight, which was particularly irritating considering there was technically very little to see.

This was a shadow.

A shadow.

He had seen shirtless men before. He had seen naked men before. There was absolutely no reason for Ryan’s vague silhouette behind a screen to be affecting him this much.

Eric reached for another grape.

It’s a shadow. You’ve seen better than this. You cannot possibly be this thirsty.

He ate the grape.

Then looked straight back at Ryan’s silhouette.

Apparently, he could.

Eric leaned against the headboard and folded his arms, irritated with himself.

Maybe it was because Ryan was his husband.

The thought appeared so abruptly that Eric immediately rejected it.

No.

Absolutely not.

That was ridiculous.

They were married because of circumstances neither of them had chosen. Ryan being technically classified as his husband did not magically make his shoulders more attractive.

Eric glanced toward the screen again.

Ryan turned sideways.

Eric’s eyes narrowed.

All right.

Perhaps the shoulders had always been attractive.

That wasn’t the point.

He had spent enough time around Ryan by now to know the man was handsome. He had eyes. He wasn’t blind. Acknowledging that someone looked good was completely different from wanting anything to happen with them.

His gaze drifted toward the pillow wall.

The barrier suddenly seemed considerably less ridiculous than it had a few minutes ago.

Eric reached over and straightened one of the pillows.

Then he added another.

Just in case.

Behind the screen, the splashing stopped.

Eric immediately sat straighter.

Fabric rustled.

Ryan was getting dressed.

For some inexplicable reason, Eric felt both relieved and slightly disappointed.

That irritated him even more.

He shoved another grape into his mouth.

By the time Ryan finally stepped out from behind the screen wearing a loose sleeping robe, Eric had arranged his expression into what he hoped was complete indifference.

Ryan looked toward him.

Eric ate his grape.

Their eyes met.

Ryan paused.

"What?"

Eric frowned. "What do you mean, what?"

"You’re staring."

"I am not."

Ryan glanced toward the suspiciously depleted bowl beside him.

Eric followed his gaze.

He had eaten nearly all the grapes.

He slowly looked back at Ryan.

Ryan’s mouth began to curve.

Eric pointed toward the opposite side of the bed.

"Go to sleep."

Ryan said nothing.

"Not one word."

"I didn’t say anything."

"You were about to."

Ryan crossed the tent, still looking far too amused for Eric’s liking.

Eric grabbed the final pillow from behind himself and added it to the barrier.

Ryan stopped beside the bed.

His gaze moved along the increasingly fortified wall.

"Was that necessary?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Eric pulled the blanket over himself.

"Because I don’t trust you."

Ryan looked at him for a moment before quietly getting into his own side.

Eric immediately checked the pillows.

The barrier remained intact.

Good.

He turned his back to Ryan and closed his eyes.

For several seconds, the tent was silent.

Then Ryan shifted behind him.

Eric’s eyes opened.

"Boundary."

"I haven’t crossed it."

"Good."

Another pause.

"Eric."

"What?"

"You ate all the grapes."

Eric opened his eyes and stared into the darkness.

Then he pulled the blanket over his head.

"Go to sleep, Ryan."