The King's Whisper

by T. S. Cleveland

  “You will pardon me for thinking this more suitable for you than a sword,” said the queen.

  Felix sucked in a shuddering breath. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, Your Majesty. Th-thank you.” He could feel Merric’s approving presence beside him and wished he could tear his eyes away from the flute to smile at him. He smiled at the flute instead. It was shiny enough that he could vaguely see his own reflection smiling back.

  “It is a special instrument, or so I am told,” continued the queen. “Old and true, made by my bloodline’s musicians of days long gone. I can think of no one better fitted for being its new owner than you. Accept it and remember my thanks.”

  The most precious of gifts, and he cradled it in his hands only because he had surrounded himself with brave friends. But as undeserving as he might have felt, he could never have refused it. Already, he was too attached to its pattern of vines and the way it warmed in his hands, and the sensuous curve of its silver plate, where he longed to place his lips and blow.

  “I will treasure it always, Your Majesty,” he answered breathlessly, bowing low to the ground.

  “So formal,” someone scoffed from the doorway, and Felix cocked his head at the familiar rasp. A woman was leaning in the frame of the queen’s chamber door, her leathers as black as the eye patch angled across her face.

  He rose awkwardly from his bow as the queen crossed the room to the newcomer’s side. Merric caught his eye, looking dubious. Despite traveling with her for weeks and fighting at her side, Merric wasn’t the biggest fan of Audrey. It wasn’t because she was an elemental—Merric held no prejudices in that regard, in stark opposition to the majority of Viridorians—but because she was an assassin. Or used to be, in any case. As of yesterday, she’d declared that she wouldn’t be returning to the Assassins’ Hollow, but staying in the Royal Quarter to assist Queen Bellamy with the opening of the elemental school. Judging by the sturdy frown on Merric’s face, Felix assumed such a turn was not enough to impress him, nor make him trust her. Felix, contrarily, thought Audrey was amazing.

  “No sign of them anywhere,” Audrey said with a smirk, answering the unvoiced question on the queen’s lips. “But there is a single horse missing from the stables. And your hidden stash of guild-brewed whiskey is gone.”

  With the formalities of the gift-giving ceremony obviously at an end, Merric slipped his arm around Felix’s waist. He’d left his cane propped against the wall, not wanting to stand before the queen with its aid, but it was clear he now needed the extra support, and Felix was happy to take some of his weight.

  “They just left?” Merric asked, the perplexity plain in his voice.

  Felix was considerably less surprised by the vanishing of Scorch and his assassin. They hadn’t looked like two men keen on sticking around for social niceties the last time he’d seen them. Felix was glad of it, for their sake. In his mind, they deserved the respite, but Merric had different opinions.

  “He’s making a big mistake. He won’t be welcomed back into the fold of the Guardians’ Guild by running away from it,” he complained.

  The queen looked similarly stricken. “Scorch and Vivid were to remain in the Royal Quarter to teach.” She shot an accusatory glance at Audrey. “You told me you spoke with them.”

  Audrey looked over at Felix, and he guessed that they, at least, were of a similar mind. “They promised nothing. Only that they would think about it,” she said.

  “A guardian’s place is at the Guardians’ Guild,” Merric grumped, “not gallivanting through the countryside with assassins.”

  “Who is to teach elementals once the school is in order?” asked the queen.

  Audrey coughed pointedly. “I will still be here to help. And I do know other elementals.”

  “More assassins, I’ll bet,” Merric snarked.

  “More assassins, yes,” replied Audrey coolly. “But others, as well. I’ve a brother who would help teach, for the right price.”

  “A brother of yours? I’m sure he’s an upstanding citizen,” Merric returned.

  Queen Bellamy pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I suppose we have time to discuss it.” She turned to Felix and Merric with a wary grin. “It’s unfortunate that neither of you are elementals, or I would entreat upon your aid.”

  “It is regrettable, Your Majesty,” answered Merric. “But the guild looks forward to serving you in the future, in whatever way we can. And that includes protection for your school, when it is needed.”

  “It will surely be needed,” the queen agreed, “especially in the coming months, while the world adjusts.” Before her life had been threatened, elementals had been persecuted for decades. Until Scorch had convinced Queen Bellamy to destroy the decrees, it had been legal to kill them, encouraged even, a barbaric act practiced with regularity across the country. Felix had thought that was a particularly morbid irony after discovering the queen herself was an elemental. Of course, that was a secret—and probably why he was being gifted such a wondrous flute.

  The queen and Merric continued exchanging solemn words on the advances to be made, and Felix just nodded along, for he knew it was not his help the queen sought. Unless she was desperate for a flautist, chances were slim they would ever meet again. He smoothed his thumb along the mouth hole of the flute and wondered dreamily what it must be like to have the power of an elemental under one’s skin. Like so many things, it would never be for him to experience. He would write about it, and play songs about it, and that would have to be enough.

  “You are welcome to remain here until the palace is rebuilt,” Queen Bellamy offered for the third time that day. “You may stay as long as you like.”

  “We appreciate it, Your Majesty,” Merric answered. “But we must be heading back today. The guildmaster will need to know what happened, and we’ve already dallied too long.”

  Felix nodded in agreement, but the sharp look Audrey fixed him with made his mouth go dry. “What is it?” he asked her, self-consciousness making his voice weak.

  “Are you returning to the guild, too?” she asked, and he could tell by her tone that she disapproved. For what reason, he wasn’t sure.

  “Merric has invited me,” he answered, remembering the discussion in their room the night before, the blankets kicked off the bed and their knees touching. Merric had kissed the palm of his hand. “And I have accepted his invitation.”

  Merric squeezed his waist, rousing the butterflies in his stomach. He was handsome, so very handsome, and for some reason, he wanted Felix, had been eyeing him with adoration since they’d met. As an entertainer of taverns, Felix had received his fair share of looks in the past, but they were mostly looks of lust or amusement or boredom. No one had ever looked at him the way Merric did. Adoringly. He was naught but a flautist with a humble income and minimal prospects. If a handsome guardian apprentice wanted to take him home, who was he to resist?

  Audrey left the queen’s side to walk up to Felix and roughly ruffle his hair. Most everything about her was rough, even her sparsely distributed affections. “Take care, little one. It’s a long way home.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Merric said, and the confidence in his voice made Felix smile. “Queen Bellamy has been kind enough to outfit our carriage with a royal guard.” He nodded appreciatively toward the queen.

  “It’s my pleasure,” she said. “Try not to render any of them unconscious though, would you?”

  Felix blushed guiltily. It had been his plan, after all, before the attack on the palace, to knock out the guards and wear their armor in order to free Scorch and Merric from the dungeon. “Y-you have my word, Your Majesty.”

  “And you have my eternal thanks,” she said. “And this, as well, before I forget.” She pulled from the pocket of her trousers two velvet pouches. Felix flinched as she threw one his way, fumbling and dropping it to the floor. He could hear Audrey’s snigger as he bent over quickly to retrieve it, and then the clanging of coins as Merric caught the secon
d pouch without issue.

  The weight of the pouch was heavy. Too heavy. “There’s no need for this, Your Majesty,” he began, holding the velvet uncomfortably in one hand while his other clutched possessively around the flute. “I already feel quite compensated.”

  Merric seemed with him on the matter of payment, making no move to tie the pouch to his belt. “Yes, Felix is right,” he agreed. “The guild cannot accept this. As a mere apprentice, it would be dishonest. Our quest to save you was an unofficial guardianship, Your Majesty.”

  “Then do not accept it on behalf of the guild,” Queen Bellamy told him, waving her hand casually at their refusal. “Accept it on behalf of yourself, to whom I have gifted it.”

  Felix made to protest once more, but he was shut down by a forceful gleam of honey eyes. He placed the pouch in his trouser pocket—the trousers also given to him by the queen—and said no more of it until twenty minutes later, when he and Merric were walking toward the carriage awaiting them.

  “I’ve never had so much coin in my life,” he confessed. “Am I walking funny? I feel like my gait is off from all the weight.”

  “I have no complaints about the way you walk,” Merric assured him. “Besides, I believe I’m the one with the funny gait.” He waved his cane halfheartedly between them as they stopped outside the carriage.

  Felix turned to him, offering his most reassuring smile. “Your leg will heal.” He dropped his gaze to Merric’s legs, lean and strong, even though he kept one foot barely touching the ground as they stood. It had started hurting him again terribly in the middle of the night, and Felix had needed to call for more salve to ease the pain. It made his stomach ache to see Merric hurt, but he tried to keep reminding himself that it could have been far worse, for both of them.

  “I know,” Merric said, “but I dislike the idea of staggering back through the Guild Walls with a cane.”

  “If you like, I can try and carry you instead.”

  Merric laughed, and his eyes lit up, as green and bright as dew-tipped grass. Felix would write about those eyes, and his auburn hair, and his flawless skin, the small moles that smattered the planes of his cheeks, when the time allowed. The melody in his head was waiting for its chance to be put to paper, and the new flute was tucked safely in his satchel beside his old. Felix thrummed to play it. Later, he would, when he could give it the care it deserved, and bumps in the road weren’t jostling him in his seat.

  “I think being carried back to the guild would be even worse than limping,” Merric said, extending his hand.

  “I don’t know,” Felix pondered as he accepted the hand and stepped into the carriage. “It would make for a dramatic entrance.”

  Merric grimaced as he pulled himself onto the seat. He rubbed at his leg, teeth clenched. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I might need to be carried, and then what will you do?”

  “I promise to carry you to the best of my abilities, if needed,” Felix swore, smoothing the hair from Merric’s eyes and planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “And I will try my very best not to drop you. But I think I probably might.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Merric whispered, cupping Felix’s cheek and kissing him.

  “I’m used to carrying around a flute, not a grown man. But I’d give it my best.”

  Felix felt the carriage shake as the two royal guards climbed up beside the driver. It was midday, the sky was blue, he had a handsome guardian tucked against his side, and a royal escort home. He rested his head on Merric’s shoulder and thanked the Gods for making him so lucky.

  2 - Wolf Run

  Felix was no stranger to travel. When Rex, the tradesman of his small, guild-adjacent village, journeyed out to trade and sell, Felix would often accompany him, playing for the taverns of the villages they frequented on their route. Sometimes it was for coin, but sometimes the tavern owners had no money to spare, and on those occasions, he was happy to perform for free. Rex would roll his eyes every time he bounced back to the wagon with a smiling face and empty coin purse, but it never bothered Felix. What did bother him, what rattled his bones and sloshed his stomach, was the rickety rocking of Rex’s old wagon that shook at every bump and dip of the road. So, no, he was no stranger to travel. What he was unaccustomed to, however, was the smooth ride of a royal carriage.

  He had ridden in one a few days prior, from the devastated palace in the Royal Quarter to the countryside’s secondary residence, but he’d been wet, dirty, and high on adrenaline at the time, and he’d barely noticed how evenly the wheels rolled down the road or how soft the cushions were against his sore body. Now, well rested from days of rare luxury, he found himself appreciating the fact that he was riding in a royal carriage, and that, when he closed his eyes, he could hardly tell they were moving at all.

  “You look happy.”

  He cracked an eyelid. Merric was watching him with a curious smile. They had been traveling for a few hours, by Felix’s estimation, and the sun streaming through the carriage windows was making him drowsy. He yawned and stretched, mindful not to knock into Merric, who had carefully extended his wounded leg to rest on the opposing bench of seat cushions.

  “I’m tired.”

  “If you were more awake, would you be less happy?” Merric asked, reaching out to wind a curl around his finger. He liked playing with Felix’s curls.

  “I’ll let you know when I wake up.”

  Merric made a show of rolling his shoulders in invitation for him to rest his head, but as Felix leaned in, the carriage came to a sudden stop, jolting him forward. He braced his hands on the opposite bench and Merric moved at once, snaking a hand around Felix’s chest and pulling him back to his side.

  “Are you alright?” he asked. When Felix nodded, he stuck his head out the carriage window. “Everything okay out there?” he shouted. “What happened?”

  Felix looked out his own window worriedly, but saw nothing but rows and rows of evergreens dusted with snow. He couldn’t see the road ahead of them, but he could hear the disgruntled whinny of the horses. It was a moment later when one of the royal guards poked his head through Merric’s window. “Sorry about the stop. There’s a downed tree in the road. Gave us a bit of a start.”

  “A downed tree? Can we go around?” Merric asked.

  The guard shrugged apologetically. “The forest is too dense this far out to pull the carriage through. We’ll have to move it. It’s not too big. We should be able to make a path within the half hour.”

  “I’ll assist you,” said Merric.

  Felix touched his hand. “But your leg.”

  Merric looked prepared to argue, but the guard backed away from the window before he could, murmuring something about having it “all under control” and “not to worry”. Darkness flashed in Merric’s eyes and Felix had to look away, not liking what he saw.

  “I can help move a tree,” Merric insisted, but even as he made to lift from his seat, he winced in pain. “For the love of the Gods,” he hissed.

  “There’s no shame in being wounded,” Felix reminded him. “I, on the other hand, am of perfect health and can no more move a tree than carry you. Shameful, indeed.” That earned him a weak laugh. “I suppose I could sing them a jaunty tune while they worked,” he continued. “A workman’s ditty to inspire their efforts.”

  “They would be distracted by your beautiful voice and never get the tree moved. We’d be here forever.” Merric took Felix’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I may not be much help, but I can lend them my sword to chop branches and ease the weight of their work.” He opened the carriage door and ambled to the ground with the help of his cane. Felix could see determination warring with pain on his face, and it inspired him to move as well, but Merric stopped him with a touch on his shoulder and a shake of his head.

  “It’s cold, Felix,” he said sweetly. “You should stay here and keep warm. I don’t want you to get sick.”

  “I can’t sit here with everyone else working,” Felix exclaimed. “L
et me help.”

  Merric sighed and his breath became a white cloud in the wintry air. “You said you were tired. Close your eyes for a bit, and by the time you wake, we’ll be back on our way.”

  He’d known there was a protective streak in Merric, a deep need to care for those weaker than himself, but Felix hadn’t yet decided if he liked it directed his way. He knew he wasn’t strong, or particularly brave, and he didn’t know how to fight or move trees out of roads, but it didn’t mean he enjoyed being coddled. Sometimes it was nice, like when Merric had been spreading soothing ointment over his black eye, but he didn’t appreciate being told to nap because he was too delicate to be in the cold air.

  “I think I—”

  A whooshing noise whizzed between the small space that separated Felix and Merric, and a second later, one of the guards howled in pain. He stumbled into Felix’s line of vision with an arrow pierced through his shoulder, straight through his bronze armor.

  Felix gasped, his hands clapping over his mouth, and Merric shoved him back into the carriage, slamming the door and pulling closed the frilly window curtain.

  “Merric!” he shouted, clamoring to his knees from where he’d fallen between the seats. He hurried back to the window, ripping the curtain open and trying to catch another glimpse of the wounded guard. “What’s happening?”

  “Stay down!” Merric ordered, as he brandished the sword he’d only been given a few hours before. He staggered unevenly in front of the carriage door, his cane forgotten in the snow.

  Felix crouched down between the seats, heart racing. The guard who had been shot was still wailing, but above the sound of his distress, a word could be heard that froze the blood in his veins: “Bandits!”

  “Bandits?” he repeated to himself, sticking his head back out the window to see.

  “Stay down!” Merric repeated angrily, but Felix was already craning his head to look around the front of the carriage. He’d sung countless songs about bandits, but he’d never seen one, never in all his traveling with Rex, even though the forests were rumored to be filled with them. Rex had encountered them a few times, but never when Felix was with him. There was a nonsensical part of him that had always felt jealous of the tradesman’s encounters, and even now, as his heart pounded with terror, it felt impossibly cruel that he could be so close to one of his stories and not see it for himself.