Echoes of Us: The CEO and His Soulmates [BL]

Ashur was running on a tight schedule. 

He carried two large water buckets into the Kinnarion stalls, the sharp slosh of the liquid breaking the quiet hum of the royal beast stables. The Kinnarions growled softly as he passed, their intelligent eyes following his every move. Their massive, feline frames bristled with restrained energy, tails flicking as if itching for something more than the walls of their stalls. 

Ashur loved his job but, by the gods, was it stressful. He worked quickly, emptying and refilling their water bowls before moving to the food troughs. He had to finish this before taking the Kinnarions out for exercise and obedience training, then bring them back in for grooming. Not to mention, the stalls still needed mucking, the riding equipment needed inspecting, and Master Darien was waiting for his weekly report on the beasts' health. 

His days were always this full, which was why he absolutely did not have time for Prince Caelan to slide up behind him and press a kiss to the curve of his neck. 

Ashur froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. Warmth bloomed where the prince's lips had grazed his skin, and it spread like fire, threatening to consume him. 

"Your Majesty," he said, keeping his voice stern, even as he clenched his jaw to stop himself from smiling. "Do you not have a meeting?" 

"Edric canceled. He apparently has matters of state to attend," came the breezy reply, followed by another kiss. "My evening is free." 

Ashur turned his head just enough to shoot the prince a withering look even though the corners of his lips betrayed him with a twitch. "I am happy for you, Your Majesty. Unfortunately, I am embroiled in work, so I will not be able to… entertain you." 

Caelan smirked, his dark eyes glittering with mischief as he stepped around to face Ashur. He was dressed simply, in a loose tunic and riding trousers, but he carried himself with the easy arrogance of someone who knew exactly how captivating he was. 

He caught Ashur's wrist, spinning him around before he could reach for another bucket. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief as he pulled Ashur closer, their bodies just a breath apart. "If I wanted entertainment, I would have called for my jester," he said softly, his free hand caressing Ashur's cheek. His voice dropped, low and inviting: "Run off with me." 

Ashur's heart betrayed him again, leaping into his throat. He glanced toward the stable doors, confirming they were alone, before gently pulling his hand free. "Caelan…" 

The prince didn't let him finish. "I know you want to," he said, his thumb tracing slow circles along Ashur's jaw. 

Ashur exhaled slowly, torn between duty and the yearning in his chest. "I do," he admitted, "but I also want to keep my job." 

A grin tugged at Caelan's lips, his playful arrogance on full display. "Then let us make it official." He stepped back, raising his voice in mock authority. "Stablehand, I order you to bring Arrow out to the valley. I would like to go for a ride." 

Ashur raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "You would abuse your royal power just to get me to skip work?" 

"Yes," Caelan said simply, his grin widening. "And I'll do it as many times as necessary." 

For all the frustration Caelan caused him, Ashur couldn't stop the smile that broke through. "Very well, Your Majesty," he said, bowing with exaggerated flourish. "I shall fetch Arrow." 

And as Caelan's laugh echoed through the stable, Ashur knew he was doomed to obey every ridiculous command this prince could dream up. 

But gods, wasn't it worth it. 

He went through the motions of locating Arrow's stall, feeding him a few treats then saddling him up. Taking care of the Kinnarion had always been one of his greatest sources of pride; watching the tiger-fox grow from a welp who could barely keep its head up to a strong creature the size of a small cottage made him think about just how far he'd come. Six years ago, he was merely a slave to a man who didn't care whether he lived or died. If someone had told him back then that he would one day be working in the Royal Beast stables, he would have laughed and thanked them for the joke. But now…

By the time Ashur led Arrow out to the gates of the stables, Master Darien was waiting for him. The keeper of the royal beast stables sat on a short wooden stool, sharpening a dagger with smooth, practiced motions. His graying hair was tied back in a tight braid, and his sharp eyes barely flicked up as Ashur approached. 

"His Majesty the Prince ordered you to bring his Kinnarion out to the valley, yes?" Darien's voice was calm, unbothered, as if royal whims were as predictable as sunrise. 

"Yes, sir," Ashur replied, keeping his tone even. 

Darien nodded, inspecting the edge of his blade. "Rev will take over the rest of your duties for this evening. You will cover his tomorrow." 

"Thank you, sir." 

Darien grunted, his attention already back on his dagger. Ashur hesitated for a moment, wondering—not for the first time—if the stable master knew. About him and the prince. 

Surely, Master Darien had noticed Caelan's frequent visits, the way he always sought Ashur specifically to tend to his Kinnarion. Surely, he'd questioned why the prince's attachment to Ashur had never wavered, even when others whispered about favoritism. But Darien had never said a word. Never questioned. Never stood in their way. 

Ashur brushed his fingers through Arrow's fur, calming the beast's soft whines as he led him out of the gates and down the dirt path to the valley behind the stables. The late afternoon sunlight bathed the landscape in warm hues of gold and orange, and the gentle rustle of leaves filled the air. 

At the edge of the valley, Prince Caelan stood with his back to Ashur, letting the breeze sweep through his dark hair. 

Ashur stopped a few paces away, allowing himself a few seconds for open admiration. Caelan had grown up to be a fine young man. At 16, his eyes already held the wisdom of a king. Even after all these years, Ashur was still in awe of him.

His voice was steady as he called out, "Your Kinnarion is ready to mount, Your Majesty." 

Caelan turned, his smirk already in place. "Very well." 

He strode forward and placed his foot in the stirrup, reaching for the saddle to pull himself up. Just as he lifted, Ashur inched Arrow forward ever so slightly, causing the prince's foot to miss its mark. 

Caelan stumbled slightly, swearing under his breath. 

"Any issues, Your Majesty?" Ashur asked, his voice carefully neutral, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. 

Caelan shot him a narrowed look. "None at all." 

He tried again, and again Ashur nudged Arrow forward, making the stirrup just out of reach. 

The prince straightened, realization dawning on his face. "Har har," he said, shaking his head. "Very funny." 

Ashur giggled, unable to hold it in any longer. "It was a bit funny." 

Caelan sighed dramatically, though a smile played at his lips. Without further delay, he mounted Arrow in one smooth motion. 

In the next instant, his hand shot down, grabbing Ashur's wrist and pulling him up onto the Kinnarion's back. Ashur barely had time to gasp before Caelan urged Arrow forward, the beast bounding into a sprint. 

The ride through the forest was exhilarating, the wind rushing past them as Arrow darted through the trees with effortless grace. The dense greenery blurred into a sea of motion, and for a moment, Ashur forgot everything but the feeling of Caelan's warmth against him and the steady rhythm of Arrow's strides. 

By the time they reached the brook, Arrow had slowed to a tired trot, his sides heaving from exertion. The beast flopped down near the water's edge, his massive frame curling into the grass. 

Ashur slid off his back, stretching his legs before settling against the Kinnarion's side. He pulled out a notebook and tin of charcoal sticks—a gift from Caelan—and began to draw. 

His eyes lifted briefly to watch the prince, who had rolled up his trousers and stepped into the clear brook. The water sparkled in the golden light, and each step Caelan took sent small ripples dancing outward. He looked ethereal, the perfect subject. 

Ashur dipped his charcoal stick into the shallow tin of ash beside him, carefully smudging the dark lines along the prince's jaw. "How is Prince Edric of Velentis?" He asked.

Prince Caelan scoffed, "You can just call him Edric."

"You can just call him that," Micah stated, pointedly. "I prefer my head on my neck."

Caelan rolled his eyes but his lazy smile remained. "Prince Edric of Velentis is fine. Much busier nowadays it seems."

Ashur hummed, shading the folds of the prince's shirt. "Does that bother you?"

"Why should it?"

"Prince Edric is your friend," Ashur stated the obvious. "Do you not miss the time spent with him?"

Caelan said nothing for a moment, considering the words. "Well, as much as I do miss the many hours we spent playing in our younger years, we are both future kings. Slaves to our kingdoms as our fathers are. I too am much busier these days," Calean said, wading closer to shore. "And I'd rather spend my free moment here… with you."

The simple sentiment warmed Ashur's chest. But it also made him uneasy. For as much as he loved these stolen moments where he had the prince to himself, Caelan was still the servant of his kingdom. Golden evenings by the waterside with a stablehand was unbecoming of royalty.

"Drawing again, my love?" Caelan called, his teasing voice cutting through Ashur's thoughts.

Ashur smirked. "It's for the history books, my prince." 

Caelan waded out of the water, droplets clinging to his skin like pearls. He crouched beside Ashur, looking over his shoulder at the sketch. "You should make this a career," he said after a moment, his tone softer. 

Ashur arched an eyebrow, not looking up. "I already have a career." 

"Of course, Ashur the Stablehand," Caelan said with mock reverence, placing a hand over his heart. "But I mean you could be an artist. A famous one." 

Ashur shrugged, wiping the charcoal dust from his fingers onto a cloth. "Maybe in another life." 

Caelan frowned slightly, tilting his head. "Why not this one?" 

"Because I'm already too busy being something else," Ashur replied, glancing up from his sketch. 

Caelan leaned closer, his brow furrowed. "What's that?" 

Ashur's gaze softened, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yours." 

The tension between them broke as Caelan tackled him, the notebook tumbling into the grass. Ashur's laugh rang out as the prince pinned him down, grinning like a mischievous child. 

"You could be both, you know," Caelan said, his lips hovering just above Ashur's. 

Ashur's breath caught, his heart pounding. "I'd rather stick to just one." 

"And I assume it's the one involving me?"

Ashur smirked, pulling the prince closer, "Maybe you should forgo the throne for a career in prophecy."

Their lips met in a kiss that was soft at first, tender. And, as he did whenever Prince Caelan stole his breath away, Ashur prayed to the gods. That, no matter what happened to him, Caelan had to be okay.