The King's Whisper

by T. S. Cleveland

  They drank.

  Audrey walked into the dining room some half hour later, her entrance cheered by all. “Is it done?” Torsten asked as he approached her amidst the clamor, Felix’s arm linked with his.

  “It is,” she answered with a nod. “I locked the door on Malcolm myself, and just in case, doubled the guard.”

  “And the queen? How is she taking it?”

  Audrey shrugged. “Who knows? She’ll be along later, so you can ask her.”

  “Thank you,” Torsten said, extending his hand, “for everything.”

  She looked at his hand for a moment before giving it a brief shake. “It’s your persistence and Felix’s bravery that’s seen justice served. I just made sure you were properly dressed for the occasion.”

  Felix hiccupped excitedly and grabbed her arm, warmed by her words. “I’m glad you’re here!” he gushed. “I was hoping you’d get here soon.”

  It was lucky she only had one seeing eye, because if she’d had two, her glare might have been lethal. Felix realized he was clinging to her and hastily corrected himself. “Sorry,” he said, releasing her, then cocking his head. “Do I hear a lute? Is there to be music?”

  “Are you drunk?” she asked, stepping back to appraise him.

  “Hardly,” Felix said, blowing the hair from his eyes. One quickly downed mug of ale had him laughing louder and more frequently than usual, but he could claim nothing more than a delightful tipsiness. He wasn’t drunk, but he was happy, very happy. And it felt amazing. “And I do hear music. There’s music!” he yelled, leading the dash from the room.

  The musicians had set up on the landing of the great stairs, the same two talented women from the tavern, and as servants lit the last of the lanterns and carried chairs and tables into the room, they began to play. Felix began clapping with delight, and the other bandits joined him.

  When the applause ended, Torsten caught Felix’s hips and pulled him into his chest. Audrey scoffed at an offer to dance from Peter, then turned to watch Marilyn, who had plucked a blossom from outside and was making it hover in her palm.

  “Dance with me, Flautist,” Torsten demanded, leading him to where many of the others had begun stomping around merrily.

  “I told you I don’t dance,” Felix insisted, yelping when Torsten lifted him in the air and spun him around. He flailed until he was set back down, and then pushed Torsten playfully in the chest. “I play the flute, I sing, I seduce evil men for the greater good, but I don’t dance.”

  “You don’t have to do anything,” Torsten assured, coaxing Felix back into his arms. “I’ll do all the work.” He took Felix’s hand and pushed him away, then spun him back.

  Felix tried to feign upset, but his shrill laughter gave him away. He let Torsten fling him around the floor for the span of two songs, bumping into bandits left and right, stepping on Torsten’s feet, and generally failing at any attempt at gracefulness. And then, it seemed, the musicians took pity on him and changed their tune to something slower. Felix was relieved to rest his head on Torsten’s shoulder, swaying gently with him while the rest of the party continued prancing and laughing around them.

  “Torsten?” Felix said softly at his ear. “Help me change out of this costume? I don’t want to look like a tramp when the queen comes.” He still wore the immodest slave gear, though it was mostly covered by Torsten’s jacket.

  “You don’t look like a tramp,” Torsten said. “You never could.” But he still took his hand and led him from the floor. In the parlor bedroom, their black leathers were laid out on the couch, along with the clothes they’d arrived in, including Torsten’s fur pelt, all freshly cleaned. Felix sighed as he settled on the couch and pulled off his boots.

  “All the fur and leather,” he lamented, standing to pull the shirt over his head and grimacing as it jingled to the floor. “Never thought I’d miss wearing my own clothes.” Felix bent forward, lifting his hair so Torsten could remove the collar from his neck. “I’ll never miss wearing that.”

  Torsten scowled at the leather collar before dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. “You were wearing a lovely lace shirt the day I met you, and well-cut velvet trousers.”

  “Those weren’t my clothes, either,” Felix confessed as Torsten dropped to his knees and started unlacing the ties that held his pants. His fingers were warm, and having Torsten on his knees before him was more than distracting. “Queen Bellamy provided my dress that day.”

  “What kinds of clothing did you wear before?” Torsten asked, working the trousers down Felix’s legs and assisting as he stepped out of them. He kissed Felix’s thigh with an open mouth, and with his arousal, Felix forgot what clothes even were.

  “I had a h-hat,” he stammered as Torsten continued to kiss his way up his leg, placing a hand firmly on Felix’s behind. “It had a little feather in it. Partridge, I think. I usually wore it when I performed.”

  “Mmm," Torsten murmured, slipping his free hand between Felix’s legs and gently cupping his balls. “And what else?”

  “Nothing fancy,” Felix said, closing his eyes as Torsten took the length of him into his mouth. “Just simple clothes,” he whispered, planting his feet more firmly and gathering two fistfuls of Torsten’s hair. “Nothing squeaked.”

  Afterwards, as Felix leaned trembling and sated against Torsten’s chest and moved to unbuckle his trousers, Torsten stopped him. “No,” he said, stepping back with his brightest smile. “I want you, but I want much more of you than can be had in the short time we have before the queen arrives.” He reached for the patchwork shirt that had belonged to Alex, and unfolding it, held it open. “Will this do for now? I promise it won’t squeak.”

  “Yes,” Felix said appreciatively, smiling as he lifted his arms so Torsten could slip the shirt over his head. “Did I ever thank you for kidnapping me?” he asked from beneath the soft fabric.

  Torsten met his eyes when Felix’s head reappeared, then kissed him on the mouth. “Get dressed, or I won’t be able to resist showing you how thankful I am.”

  When Felix got his pants on, Torsten produced the black bandana, holding it up. Felix nodded and smiled, breathing in the faint but lingering smell of peppermint and the deep woods as Torsten tied it on his neck. Mercifully, it had escaped washing.

  Torsten went to the window, looking out. “You know the Queen rather well to have known her such a brief time, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.

  “Not really,” Felix answered as he sat to pull on his boots. “I only know her a little.”

  “You still have more experience with her,” Torsten said. “What do you think she’ll do with me?”

  “Do with you?” Felix asked. “What do you mean?”

  Torsten turned. The happiness that had brightened his face since the tavern faded, and he shook his head, heaving a worried sigh. “Queen Bellamy rescinded my banishment, yes, but she’s been victimized by my banditry a long time. I’ve injured her guards, bear responsibility for the death of one of them, and I’ve repeatedly hi-jacked goods and coin from her shipments. That it was done for the common good doesn’t change the fact that I’m a criminal.”

  Felix stood and went to him. “Bellamy welcomed you back to the Royal Quarter with open arms, and she did it in front of a hundred witnesses,” Felix stated, his voice soft and soothing. He combed his fingers through Torsten’s hair, hoping to smooth away his stress with each pass of his hand.

  “She did, but those arms could embrace me while her hands stabbed me in the back. With knives. Sharp knives,” Torsten said.

  “You’re forgetting something important,” Felix said, moving his hands from Torsten’s hair to his high collar and arranging the folds of lace. “You and I and a precious few others know the queen is an Earth, which is something she really wants to keep secret. If she were to harm you in any way, or even threaten it, I’d threaten to tell all of Viridor she’s an elemental.”

  “And then she might kill us both,” Torsten said quietly.

 
“You’re right,” Felix gasped teasingly. “Best keep your eyes open and don’t accept any hugs. And I definitely wouldn’t dance with her.”

  Dancing wouldn’t be an issue, however, as by the time they rejoined the others, the musicians were leaving, the main room was being cleared and cleaned, and the reveling bandits were once again being banished upstairs with orders to remain quiet and unseen.

  “Sorry to cut the merriment short,” Audrey said to Felix and Torsten as they approached. “I was just about to send for you. Bellamy will be here any minute. We’ll resume the celebration later, but now we need to wait in the parlor.”

  “Why so soon? Is all well?” Felix asked as they followed her down the hall.

  “You know as much as I do,” Audrey replied.

  Queen Bellamy arrived a few minutes later, entering the parlor unannounced. Torsten and Felix stood quickly and bowed, but she waved her hand dismissively, and, crossing the room, sat upon her gilded chair. She’d changed from the morning’s black leather into a pearl-buttoned, scarlet blouse and pearly white, knitted trousers. Her hair was coiled into loose tendrils and her circlet crown was in its rightful place across her brow. She sat ramrod straight, the very picture of royalty, though her face looked troubled. Audrey moved to perch on the wide arm of her chair, oddly straight-faced.

  “Torsten,” the queen began, her hands folded in her lap. Her fingers twitched and her eyes darted to the side table where the whiskey decanters sat, but she must have thought it would seem inappropriate to drink so early in the day, unlike the drunken bandits on the floor above her. “There is an important matter that must be discussed.”

  Torsten glanced at Felix with a fretful frown before nodding. “I’m listening.”

  Felix was listening, too, and he was ready. He’d been practicing his blackmail speech in his head, and if necessary, he was fully prepared to give it.

  “With Malcolm gone, there is an open position on my council,” began the queen as she met Torsten’s eyes, “and I am appointing you to fill it.” The room was silent save for a squeak of surprise from Felix. “It may seem unorthodox to some,” she continued, “but you are born of noble blood and obviously possess the leadership skills I seek. You’ve proven to have a keen eye for judging character, and apparently I am in need where that is concerned.” She took a deep breath. It was as if every word pained her. “I’m fully aware I’ve not been the best leader. I have made mistakes, momentous ones that have caused great suffering and hardship for Viridor and her people, even as you continued to help them.” She was struggling to make the admission, she really was, but she kept her chin high and carried on admirably. “So I want you on my council, and I will have you unless you refuse me. This isn’t an apology, Torsten,” she said, clearing her throat and swallowing heavily, “it’s a plea.”

  Felix looked frantically between Torsten and the queen, his heart racing. The strange feeling in his gut had returned, and he stroked absently over his stomach as he waited in suspense for Torsten’s answer. After what felt like an eternity, he gave it. “I have conditions.”

  Bellamy tilted her head questioningly. “What are they?” she asked, and Audrey stood from the chair, exiting swiftly from the room.

  “Clemency for my friends,” Torsten said. “None are to be arrested for past crimes.”

  She nodded. “What else?”

  “I want to be in charge of food distribution in the villages.”

  “There’s already someone doing that,” the queen said.

  “Yes. And while I’m sure their own larder is filled to capacity, they’ve done an abysmal job of feeding the hungry. I want to be in charge of food distribution,” Torsten repeated, crossing his arms.

  Bellamy looked irritated, but gave a stiff nod of approval. “Fine. Is that all?”

  “No,” he huffed. Then he furrowed his brow. “Well, yes. For now.” He turned to Felix and muttered under his breath, “Am I missing something important?”

  Felix shrugged helplessly. Other than the no stabbing request, he could think of nothing else important enough to mention.

  “Those are my conditions,” Torsten declared.

  Queen Bellamy stood and extended her hand. Torsten stood and took it. “It’s settled, then. I’ve brought the document with me that you need to sign.” She released Torsten’s hand as Audrey returned from the hallway with ink and a roll of parchment.

  Torsten unrolled it on the table, Felix looking over his shoulder at the lines of calligraphy culminating in the declaration that Torsten was to be an official member of the queen’s Royal Council and a member of the royal court of Viridor.

  “Your signature, please,” instructed the queen.

  Torsten took the ink-dipped quill from Audrey and looked over at Felix with a smirk before signing along the bottom with a flourishing hand. Felix blew on it to help it dry, and then Audrey took it back, showing it to the queen before rolling it back up.

  “Welcome to my council, Torsten Carwyn,” she said. Some of the discomfort was gone from her mouth. She even let herself smile.

  Torsten returned her smile, his hand firmly on Felix’s lower back. “Just Torsten, please, Your Majesty.” Felix felt the pleasure coming off him in waves. But there was still a nagging sensation in his stomach he couldn’t shake. It was like when he’d been led into the woods to find Gethrin, as if something was urging him forward, but he didn’t know in which direction he was supposed to be going or why.

  “There is one more thing,” said the queen, and Felix held his breath, anxiety rising. “Malcolm was in my council from the beginning. I trusted him completely.” Her jaw clenched and her hands were fidgeting before Audrey laid a hand on her shoulder. Bellamy relaxed at her touch. “I realize that if one member of my council has betrayed me, there is a healthy chance that more have done the same. I find myself growing paranoid. Malcolm’s theft lasted years. He couldn’t have acted alone.”

  “I can investigate the other members,” offered Torsten.

  She nodded graciously, but Felix could tell she was hardly comforted. “I remember when you were younger,” she said. “You were a polite child.” Her eyes narrowed. “But you were also constantly sneaking into places you didn’t belong and asking questions you didn’t have a right to. I want you to do the same now. I’m counting on it, in fact. As is customary with a new councilmember, I’ll be throwing a celebration in your honor. There will be a ceremony in front of the citizens, so everyone can see you. Afterwards, there will be a private dinner. I want you to begin sussing out my other councilmembers then, as best you can. Find out who I can trust.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “See that you do,” she said. “I assume Felix has told you that not two weeks ago an attempt was made on my life? He was among those who saved me.”

  Torsten shot a look at Felix, not of surprise, but of intrigue. “He hasn’t told me,” he said, in a way that meant Felix would be telling him about it as soon as possible, and in excruciating detail. “Did this happen near the time the palace was hit by that freak storm?”

  “Yes,” the queen replied, skipping over the part where the storm was actually an elemental attack. Felix would fill in those details for him later. “The point I’m trying to make is this," she said, lowering her voice to a near whisper and stepping in close. “I’m not sure whom among my council I can trust now, other than yourself. And as I have no children, were I to die tomorrow, my council would become regents, ruling Viridor until one of them, or another member of the nobility, was passed the crown. This process would be messy enough for the people to endure were each of my councilmembers saints,” she continued, shaking her head, “but as I trust none of them not to be up to their elbows in deceit and corruption like Malcolm, the situation as it stands is untenable. So you must find out who among them I can trust, Torsten,” she said, laying a hand on his arm, “and you must do so quickly.”

  “I will, Your Majesty,” he replied solemnly.

  “Excellent,” the
queen said. “Then I shall leave you.”

  Felix and Torsten offered small bows as Bellamy turned towards the door. “There’s no time to waste,” she declared, looking back. “We’ll have the celebration tomorrow evening, and Audrey will set you both up with appropriate clothing.” A loud thump was heard from the floor above, followed by a muffled curse, and the queen looked at the ceiling, pursing her lips. “Your compatriots are welcome here and in the Quarter, so long as they behave themselves,” she said. “But let’s refrain from having them attend a royal dinner until their table manners have been tested, yes”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” both Felix and Torsten said quickly, successfully chastised.

  Bellamy laughed. “Audrey, join me?”

  Audrey linked her arm with Bellamy’s, looking over her shoulder as they headed out the door. “I’ll send a carriage tomorrow morning so you can meet with the tailor. Take my bedchamber tonight,” Audrey added, looking back at the queen. “I’ll be sleeping elsewhere.”

  “Well, that was a surprise,” Torsten said, letting out a long breath as the doors closed. “And a far better one than being stabbed.” He glanced at Felix and took hold of his shoulders. “Are you alright? You look sick.”

  “I’m okay,” Felix replied, though there was still a strange feeling in his stomach that was making him dizzy. “I think I just need air.” So much had happened so fast that it had unnerved him. That was all. It had been a remarkable last few days.

  “I think I do, too,” Torsten agreed, taking his hand and leading him outside. They walked together along the well-manicured garden path, the air chilly, but the sun warm on their faces, and Felix was already feeling better, breathing in the sweet smells of the late winter blooms.

  “So you’re a royal councilman,” he prompted.

  “So I am.” Torsten stopped so he could pluck a flower and give it a new home tucked into the curls behind Felix’s ear. “It’s madness.” His expression softened. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Much.” The feeling in his stomach, the knot of strangeness, was soothed now that they were outside, but it felt temporary. “But it doesn’t matter how I feel. How do you feel?”