The King's Whisper

by T. S. Cleveland

  But the feeling came to an abrupt halt as soon as Audrey said his clothing for the day was waiting for him in the parlor. Torsten, his meager appetite long-sated, joined Felix in his trek to the suite. And there, lying over the back of the bedroom couch, and not taking up nearly as much surface area as he would have liked, was the slave costume.

  He studied it warily as Torsten held it up against his own body. It was worlds better than the tiny, tacky outfit Gethrin had forced him to wear, and certainly better stitched, but it was still severely lacking in modesty. And fabric.

  “This isn’t bad,” Felix said, forcing a smile. “And it looks a far better fit than what I wore before.” He gathered it into his hands, nodding towards the door. “Maybe you should wait outside while I put it on.”

  “Felix,” Torsten said softly, stepping close and kissing him lightly on the mouth. “It’s perfectly fine if you’ve changed your mind. We’ll find another way.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I’m fine. And the plan is perfect. I just hate looking ridiculous in front of you.”

  “But you never could,” Torsten replied, pulling him into his arms. “You’re beautiful to me. You could be dressed as a mermaid, or a housemaid, and it wouldn’t change that.”

  The thin, black trousers were long—thank the Gods—but they laced loosely up the sides and exposed bare skin from his hips to his ankles. The top was also black, thin, and long-sleeved, but a dramatic v-shaped dip exposed everything from his collarbones to his navel. When he shifted, even a little, his nipples were exposed, and the tiny bells sewn along the length of his sleeves made tiny dings that announced his every movement. He pulled on his boots—at least his feet would be warm and adequately covered—and jingled out to join Torsten.

  “Well, here I am,” he said, shaking his arms for maximum ringage as he joined Torsten in the archway. “But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this. Audrey must have picked it up by mistake.” He handed the small, well-stitched bit of leather to Torsten.

  After examining it, Torsten shook his head, and then held the leather up to his throat. “It’s a collar,” he said. “See this metal loop? I’m guessing that’s where the chain would attach.”

  “Oh. O-okay,” Felix stuttered, before turning and raising his curls from the nape of his neck so Torsten could buckle it on. “But I’d much rather be wearing your bandana.”

  “A suggestion from the tailor,” Audrey said, appearing in the doorway. “Rumor has it the councilman is a fan of them. You don’t have to wear it, if it’s too much.”

  “No, I’ll wear it,” Felix said, squaring his shoulders. “Anything that will help sell it. Or me, rather.” He stood back and did a full turn for their approval. “So what do you think? Would you buy me?”

  “Absolutely,” Audrey announced. “You’re the only boy I would ever buy.”

  “Same,” added Torsten. “Even if it took the last of my coin.”

  The others must have been warned to keep quiet about Felix’s state of dress, because no one said a word or looked directly at him when they returned to the dining room. Still, he felt the purposeful absence of their eyes as heavily as if they’d been staring.

  “Selon, are you ready to take me to town?” he asked, eager to break the awkward silence.

  Selon stood, gulped the remainder of her tea, and returned the cup to the table, far too hard. The sound of breaking porcelain filled the quiet room. “Oops,” she said, looking at Audrey to make an apology, but Audrey merely rolled her shoulders in a stretch.

  “Let’s hope setting down teacups is the only thing you’re bad at today,” she said stoically. “Torsten, come with me. I’ve got something special for you.”

  Torsten cast a glance at Felix. “Is this the part where she takes me aside and kills me?”

  “Only if you keep wasting my time,” Audrey answered loudly. “Follow me, King.”

  Torsten smirked and followed her from the room, the other bandits smiling at one another over an outsider’s fearless use of his nickname. While they were gone, Felix and Selon went over the details of the plan together. Surprisingly, she had a few qualms about bossing him around and bartering him off like a whore, but Felix reassured her as confidently as he could that he didn’t mind, that it was necessary. The worse she treated him in front of Malcolm, the better it would be for them all. By the time Torsten and Audrey returned, Selon was practicing how best to hold Felix by the back of the neck. She was shoving him forward—very believably—when Felix caught sight of Torsten in the doorway, and his mouth fell open in surprise.

  Torsten had shaved, which made him look much younger, and Felix gaped at the smooth, clean cut of his chin, strong and dimpled. With the beard gone, all the attention was drawn to his hazel eyes, and, Gods, was he gorgeous. “The last time Malcolm saw me, I had my beard,” he explained self-consciously, running his hands repeatedly over his smooth, angular jaw.

  Felix had to touch, and did, freeing himself from Selon’s grasp and closing the distance between them. Torsten’s face was something to look at, indeed, but it was not the only thing. Audrey had dressed him in clothes fit for a nobleman. The collar was high on his neck and the cuffs of his well-tailored shirt were lacy and white. His trousers were tan and snug in all the right places, and his boots were so shiny, Felix could see his own transfixed reflection in the toe. On the coat’s lapel, he wore the queen’s sigil.

  “Holy Gods,” Felix whispered as the bandits hooped and whistled. “Who are you supposed to be?”

  Torsten’s cheeks blushed bright red. “I wanted to be a hooded tavern patron who lurked in dark corners,” he grumbled.

  “And I told him the best way to fit in amongst a tavern frequented by the queen’s noblemen was to look like a nobleman. We have visiting nobility at court every week from all over Viridor, so no one will question it. And even someone who remembered your face would never connect it to your being the councilman’s bastard son. Trust me. I was an assassin. I am a stealth expert.”

  Torsten sighed and turned to face his bandit compatriots. “Go ahead,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

  No one spoke at first, and then Marilyn, mirth ringing high in her voice, said, “You look like you did when you first got booted from the Quarter. Like a wee babe.”

  “Minus the scraggly baby beard you were trying so hard to grow,” Selon added.

  The wispy blond man Felix had recently learned was called Peter offered his opinion as he poured himself more tea. “You look like an easy mark. If I saw you on the road, I’d take you for all you had.”

  They all laughed heartily, and for a few moments, it was almost possible to forget the tragedy that had struck them so recently and so hard.

  Felix leaned over while the others were still chuckling and throwing quips, straightening Torsten’s stiff collar and mouthing at the smooth skin by his ear. “I think you look like someone I’d like to buy, when this is all over,” he whispered.

  Torsten smiled. “You couldn’t afford me.”

  “I’d be willing to offer an exchange of services,” Felix returned, leaving his hand to rest on Torsten’s bottom.

  “You can service him later,” Audrey said, suddenly behind Felix, making him jump. “We need to head out. The meeting is in an hour.”

  Felix, Torsten, and Selon said their goodbyes to the bandits, who waved them off with calls of luck and a few rowdy whistles, and then Audrey was leading them outside, where a carriage was waiting by the road.

  “We’re going through the city gates together so there will be no question of you getting inside, but then we have to split up,” Audrey explained as they walked. “Torsten and I will arrive in the carriage to the tavern and situate ourselves with the soldiers selected by Bellamy to be there. You two,” she pointed to Felix and Selon, “will travel on foot to the tavern, in character the entire time. When you get to the Queen’s Men, pretend you don’t see us and continue on with the plan. Understood?”

  The
y nodded.

  “If all goes accordingly, this should go down relatively quickly. If the plan falls to pieces,” she touched her hand to the daggers in her thigh holsters, “I’ll make sure Malcolm ends up in pieces, too.”

  “Audrey, no,” Felix said.

  “I told you I had your back. If you say Malcolm is the bad guy, I don’t need any more proof than that.” Her gaze was steadfast and more than a little scary. “Besides, I don’t like slavers. He’s either leaving the tavern under arrest or dead. If that’s agreeable with his son.” She looked at Torsten questioningly.

  Torsten sighed. “Yes,” he said quietly. “If he chooses to resist, then do as you will.”

  “Good,” she said, adjusting the patch over her eye. “Everyone ready?” At their nods, she stepped into the carriage.

  Torsten and Selon stared after her and then looked at Felix. After a second, Selon broke into a wide grin. “Is she for real?”

  Felix nodded proudly and hopped into the carriage after Audrey. Once Torsten and Selon climbed in, the driver clicked at the horses and they were on their way. Felix sat cozied against Torsten’s side as they made the mile long journey to the Royal Quarter gates, trying to enjoy his ridiculously handsome, calming presence for as long as he could before the charade had to begin. Torsten held tightly onto his hand the entire way.

  When they reached the gate, Audrey simply had to show her face through the window and speak a few words to the sentry to be allowed through. A few minutes later, the carriage pulled off onto a side street, and Felix turned to Torsten wistfully.

  “I have a feeling,” he confessed, wringing his hands anxiously. “Like something big is about to happen.”

  “We’re about to take down nobleman scum,” Selon said, toning down her cackle for optimum discretion. “That’s pretty big.”

  “Listen to your bandit master,” Audrey rasped, “and try not to look so damn clever.”

  Felix swallowed nervously, relaxing only when Torsten grabbed him and kissed him hard on the mouth. “I’ll be right there watching,” he promised. “This will be over soon.”

  Felix gathered himself, trying to pull the flimsy material of his top over as much of his chest as he could, but the effort was fruitless, and all he managed was an awful lot of bell jingling. With a huff, he gave Audrey and Torsten a brave nod and leapt from the carriage. Selon followed smoothly, instantly weaving her hand beneath his curls and into the neck hold they’d practiced.

  The carriage didn’t linger, rolling away as soon as they’d cleared the wheels. Torsten watched through the window as long as he could before they disappeared into the busy streets, then Selon gave Felix’s neck a squeeze and started pushing him down the road.

  “You’re good for him,” she said, so casually it took Felix a moment to understand her.

  “He’s good for me,” he responded, gasping when Selon bullied him out of the way of a turnip cart.

  The air was filled with city smells: cook smoke, baking bread, the ubiquitous richness of horse manure, the occasional muskiness of urine. He had been in the city before, once with the trader Rex, and then again with Merric. But he’d never traveled it by foot and walked the crowded streets among its people. There were merchants hawking their wares and foodstuffs, servants and ladies haggling prices, a clutch of laughing children being hustled along by a harried-looking matron. And because of all this busyness, most didn’t favor the all but bare-chested, jingling man with a second glance. It was exhilarating, though he wished he were dressed more appropriately, both for modesty and for the season. It was a warmer morning than yesterday, and spring was definitely on the way, but the air still boasted a chill that tweaked his too-often exposed nipples and made him dearly miss the fur pelts to which he’d grown accustomed.

  “Torsten’s not a man who messes around,” Selon said, continuing their conversation as they dodged a woman selling jewelry with a finesse Audrey would have found impressive. “Until you came along, I’d written him off as uninterested.”

  Felix glanced back at her skeptically. “Because he showed no interest in sleeping with you?”

  “Not just me. He’d shown no interest in sleeping with anyone,” she rebutted. “Not since I’ve known him.” She scrunched her face in disdain. “Five years it’s been, and then you show up out of nowhere and everything changes.”

  “I was kidnapped and taken against my will to him, I think you mean,” Felix muttered, wincing as she tightened her grip on his neck.

  “Will you shut up for a second so I can compliment you? You used to be so quiet. Gods.”

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “Go ahead.”

  She shook her head, a strand of springy red hair bouncing in front of her face. She wasn’t wearing the charcoal lining on her eyes, either, and it made her look much younger and not nearly as mean. He wondered if she was really mean at all, or if he’d misjudged her from the beginning, just as he’d done with Torsten. “I’m trying to say that I’m glad you got dragged into camp,” she continued, keeping her eyes straight ahead and her face relaxed, acting as if she wasn’t being the nicest she’d ever been to him. “I’m thrilled that King finally found someone he wants to fuck. We all are.”

  “Selon!” Felix hissed indignantly.

  She rolled her eyes at his reddening face. “Modesty will do you no favors all the way out here, princeling,” she scolded. “I told you.”

  “We’re no longer in the forest,” he pointed out.

  “Sure we are,” she said. “It’s just made of mortar and stone instead of trees.”

  Felix glanced around thoughtfully. “A lot of these buildings actually appear to be brick.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Yes, alright.”

  They continued in silence, moving into a more affluent area of the city. Audrey must have shown her the way on a map, or when they’d gone last night to the royal tailor, because she wound their way through the streets without needing to stop even once to orient herself. At one point, a loathsome looking man sidled close and grabbed Felix’s bottom as they stopped amongst a crowd for a series of passing wagons, and in the wink of an eye Selon punched him, knocking him out cold, all the while keeping her other hand securely on Felix’s collar.

  “You’ll have to teach me how to do that,” Felix said, nearly tripping over the unconscious man as they began to move again.

  Selon grinned as she tightened her grip and pushed him forward. “Ready yourself,” she said. “We’re almost there.” Ahead, Felix saw the tavern, which would have been easy to distinguish even from a distance. It was tucked between plain-fronted buildings, upscale businesses selling leather goods and fine jewelry, but the Queen’s Men Tavern had tall stone pillars topped by torches in front of its entrance, and the sounds of ribaldry could be heard coming from within, which Felix thought odd for so early in the day.

  Reading his flummoxed expression, Selon said, “It caters primarily to the queen’s guard, I understand, and guards keep odd hours.”

  “But why would Malcolm have a meeting about the slave trade in a tavern full of guards?” he whispered, keeping his head down as they approached the swinging doors.

  “Hiding in plain sight,” Selon answered. “Or maybe the regulars know exactly what Malcolm’s up to, and they don’t care. Now be quiet.”

  Selon forced him inside, her fingers digging deeply into his neck. Once through the door, it was a ruckus. The music was loud and the patrons were louder, but that didn’t stop most every head from turning to check out the new arrivals, including one of a fiercely handsome, black haired, freshly shaven nobleman who sat nursing a drink at the bar. Felix cut his eyes away and bent his head submissively as Selon propelled him through the busy tavern. There was a single empty table near the back, reserved ahead of time for their use, and Selon shoved him roughly into one of the chairs. He went with a painful cry, certain he was bruising from her rough handling, which was good; as a slave handler, Selon was very believable.

  Felix made a surr
eptitious scan of the room once they were seated, looking about with half-closed lids. He saw a sea of people, mostly men, primarily guards wearing their bronze armor and those of the noble class dressed similarly to Torsten, with an abundance of lace at their wrists and collars. He purposefully avoided looking at the bar, where Torsten sat, and Audrey was nowhere in sight, but he knew that was because she wished to be invisible.

  The crowd began to clap and cheer as two suggestively dressed young women mounted a small platform near the stairs, a buxomly redhead who seated herself behind a set of East Viridor drums, and a petite, ebony-skinned brunette cradling a lute. When they began to play, Felix frowned at his inability to place the melody. But when they began to sing, he blushed, quickly dropping his head to hide both his color and a ridiculously wide smile.

  They were singing his song, “The Sun Guardian”! He’d written and performed the ballad of how Scorch had freed the slaves from the Circle, where they’d been forced to fight to the death, long before he and Scorch had become friends. But they were friends now. And the joy of hearing his friend’s heroism celebrated in song—his song—even as he sat feigning enslavement in the hopes of keeping it from happening again? It was just too much irony.

  Selon smacked him on the back of the head, causing sufficient pain to remove the smile from his face. Felix winced and sank further down in his chair, but she grabbed his collar and yanked until he sat up straight. Her face was grim, her mood dark, and he was wincing beneath her stern gaze when a man approached their table. Felix spotted his gold-buttoned, red velvet sleeves first, then looked up to see an attractive man with silver hair and not unfamiliar hazel eyes. And that’s all he got to see of Malcolm before Selon pulled his collar tight enough to make him choke.