Hi, everybody!

Time again to visit some Seductive Studs and Sirens! Today we are returning to my swords and sorcery menage story, Radiq. For a refresher or to catch up, click here. We find Radiq rejoining the engagement celebration:

The guardsman slipped easily into the grand space, nodding curtly to his men as he strode in search of more wine; sketchy salutes flashed as he passed. Here and there some bleary-eyed celebrant would acknowledge him. What eyes were still open in the hall were focused predominately on either the swaying dancers or the dazzling head table. It’s not as if the Captain of the guard is so important, compared to the worthies seated above the fray.

Set at the height of a man’s waist, the high table hosted an amazing array of gold and silver service ware. Plates and platters, bowls, flagons and flasks, cups, tankards and flatware littered the rich tablecloth. The kitchen staff must have emptied the pantries to serve such a selection, although this late in the banquet most of the serving dishes held little more than well-gnawed bones and grey, congealing grease.

Radiq skirted along the back wall. He clung to the shadows—and occasionally the wall—in order to avoid becoming entangled by the festivities. Despite his best efforts to focus elsewhere, Radiq found his gaze wandering to the dais, where the Crown Prince’s head of dark curly hair bent to listen to his dinner companion.

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‘Til next time!

Hi, everybody!

Another week gone, and time for some Seductive Studs! We are having a visit with Radiq, my swords and sorcery menage story. To catch up with prior clips, click here. We rejoin Radiq, sitting in the stable, drinking alongside his horse.

Despite the increasingly bitter taste, Radiq swigged again from the flagon, toasting silently to Jessel, who gazed at him with liquid brown eyes. “I know, I know,” he mumbled. “I should be celebrating too. End of hostilities, beginning of a great dynasty, such a good match.” He burped. “All that fucking happiness!” Another long pull at the red wine. “But, what about my gods damned happiness?”

Jessel nodded knowingly and snagged another mouthful of fodder.

Radiq drank from the flask and gestured widely. “Does not my loyalty, my devotion, entitle me to some consideration?” He knew he was feeling sorry for himself, but only here, beside this mountain of horseflesh, could he let his guard relax even slightly. “You, Jessel, are a good friend.” He leaned forward to stroke the stallion’s neck. “Never do your eyes promise what cannot be.”

Thanks for reading!

‘Til next time!

Welcome, everyone!

The weekend has arrived, which means it’s time for some Seductive Studs. I am continuing with a clip from my swords and sorcery work in progress, Radiq. To read some preceding clips, click here.

By the third flask the wine had begun to sour, or maybe it was simply his mood.

Even to the stables the sounds of the celebration carried, bright and joyful; cymbals and tambourines clamored with flutes, accompanied by the deep, moaning tones of a bazuuna. Radiq had fled the engagement party with the wine, a dark and acerbic red from somewhere to the south, to find some relief from all the cheerfulness. Drinking and feasting he could manage, but the speeches and smiles and handshakes—and all those Corusqi—set his teeth on edge. Flight was his only option.

The First Sword had considered not stopping. Saddling Jessel, riding out across the fields, and going someplace—any place—other than here. Away from Thal Thessaly, the Swords, the court politics—away from Vadim. But that would be an admission—and he wasn’t going to do that.

Housed in a narrow stall, Jessel had stamped a greeting, munching straw, while Radiq had settled on a hay bale. As far as he was concerned, horses made the best drinking companions. They never dominated the conversation, never left you with the bar bill, and, no matter how much one drank, they never pointed out how drunk you were.

Thanks for reading!

Check out the rest of this week’s Seductive Studs and Sirens:

‘Til next time!