by Sera Trevor
The king considered him. “Perhaps we should sit down for a moment.”
They sat down on a grassy slope. Jasen had calmed himself by that point, but now he was overcome with embarrassment. He rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. “And now I feel like an idiot. You just finished telling me about the enormous pressures you’ve been under since you were three years younger than I am, and here I am complaining about having to learn the waltz and how to make boring conversation. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, but my responsibilities were always meaningful to me. It must be maddening to feel so much weight over that which does not seem to have value.” The king paused. “Have you studied history?”
“Not really. I’ve never studied much of anything.”
“But you are no doubt familiar with the Time Before Dragons?”
“Of course—I’m not that ignorant.”
“It was a dark time before King Athard united the humans with the dragons. All of the kingdoms of Monolia were in perpetual war—”
“But then King Athard brought the dragons, who defeated the armies of the wicked kings and queens and united the realms in perpetual peace,” Jasen finished for him. “Yes, I know. I was kind of hoping for a break from lessons, you know.”
The king held his hands up in appeasement. “Then I shall make my point quickly. King Athard brought the realms together, it’s true—but an alliance between ten realms is not a feat that is accomplished in one gesture. The realms disbanded their armies, but Athard couldn’t make them get along. Our cultures all have their idiosyncrasies. That is why he began holding Court. The manners you learn now were put into place so that the different cultures could feel on the same footing. Once there was an agreement of a ‘proper’ way to behave, it became much easier for citizens of each realm to speak to one another.”
Jasen blinked. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“It is a problem I have contemplated for many years,” the king said with a smile.
Their eyes met for a moment. Jasen looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I don’t know what I should call you—‘Your Majesty’?”
“Perhaps in the company of others,” he said. “But it would sadden me greatly if you called me that in private. My family simply calls me Rilvor. I would like for you to call me that as well.”
“All right, Rilvor.”
They gazed into each other’s eyes. It was at this point with other men that Jasen might initiate a kiss, but so much about this situation was beyond him.
Jasen stood up. “We should get back. They might start to miss me.”
Rilvor stood as well. “You should not concern yourself too much with Lady Isalei’s displeasure. I can always speak with her.”
“I would rather you didn’t. Our first meeting in the draemir made me a combination of a laughing stock and a subject of envy. It would be easier on me if no one found out about this.” Jasen slapped a hand to his forehead. “Except, of course, Madame Certia and the children already know. Damn.”
“Madame Certia will say nothing. And sadly, there are many nobles who barely speak to their children.” He paused. “I had not considered the problems I might be causing for you. I apologize.”
“It isn’t your fault.” He thought about it for a moment. “I think a more formal meeting between us would alleviate some of the resentment. It would seem less like I’m using stunts to get your attention.”
“I think that Lady Isalei will have no choice but to agree to such excellent logic.”
They eventually made their way out of the gardens, where the king bade him a quick good-bye, lest they attract too much attention. Jasen timed his return to the East Wing to coincide with the time most of the other consorts would be in lessons; he was able to slip back up to his room without anyone noticing. He bundled up his dirty clothes and shoved them under his bed and then changed back into his night shirt. He rang the servant’s bell to request a bath.
As he waited for the bath, part of him felt dizzy with giddiness, but another part of him sunk even further into despair. He had almost managed to convince himself that he was indifferent to the king’s affections, but the more he talked to him, the more he became aware that wasn’t true. He liked him. He more than liked him. He wanted him in a way that he’d never felt before. Attraction was one thing—he was accustomed to that. But this wasn’t a gossamer-thin strand of physical desire that broke apart the moment that desire was satisfied. There was more to it. It elated him. He wanted to explore it.
But why, oh why, did Rilvor have to be the king?
To Jasen’s relief, his adventure in the garden seemed to escape notice, and the next day life continued as usual. The next afternoon was archery practice, which was an activity Jasen actually enjoyed. The tutor had them work in pairs. Since Risyda was an expert and Jasen was good enough to not require much instruction, the tutor left them to themselves.
“So how was your day off?” Risyda asked as they settled at their target.
Jasen didn’t know how much he wanted to say when others could overhear. “Interesting,” he decided on.
“That’s a mysterious answer.”
“Later,” Jasen promised.
Polina and two of her toadies—Lord Banither and Lady Lalan—approached, choosing the target beside them. They began to speak a little more loudly than was strictly necessary.
“Oh Princess, will you tell me all the details of your visit with the king again?” Banither said. His eyes flickered over to Jasen and Risyda.
Polina giggled. “I’ve already told you a dozen times, it seems! Surely it must bore you.”
“Oh no! It is too thrilling!” Lady Lalan exclaimed. “We hang upon your every word!”
“All right, then!” She droned on about how she met with him yesterday morning and about the immediate connection they had felt. On and on she went as they all practiced their shots. Jasen tried to keep a straight face, but when Polina got to the part where her meeting with the king had supposedly gone on well into the afternoon, he couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“What?” Risyda said.
“She’s lying,” he said. “There’s no way she could have seen him in the afternoon.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Jasen dropped his voice. “Because I was with him,” he said, unable to keep a grin off of his face.
Risyda let out a delighted laugh. Polina stopped talking and looked over at them, eyes narrowed. Risyda waved to her. “Good morning, Polly!” she said.
“Good morning, Lady Risyda,” she replied after a moment’s hesitation. She glanced back and forth between Jasen and Risyda’s cheerful expressions. “I was just telling Lord Banither and Lady Lalan about my meeting with the king yesterday.”
“We heard you,” Risyda said.
“Oh.”
“Well?” Risyda said. “Aren’t you going to finish your story? I am dying to know exactly how many times he called you beautiful.”
“I was done with my story,” she sniffed. She notched an arrow and shot. It barely hit the target.
“Missing the mark, as usual,” Risyda said.
Polina’s face flushed. She grabbed another arrow, notched it, and concentrated. This time, she hit a bull’s-eye. She looked back to Risyda in triumph, her face still red. “There. What do you think about that?”
“I think that you should try to shoot straight more often,” Risyda said. “You might actually accomplish something.”
“Like what? Win an archery competition, like you?” Polina spat. “What a small, stupid goal. And what a stupid sport this is.” She threw her bow on the ground, gathered her skirts, and stormed off. Her minions scrambled off behind her.
“Why do you two hate each other so much?” Jasen asked when she was gone.
Risyda shrugged. “I don’t hate her. We used to be friends when we were children. Then one year, she decided I wasn’t her friend anymore. She said I didn’t take our mission to fi
nd a spouse seriously enough. I mean, she was right—it was probably better that she ended the friendship when she did.”
For a moment, she seemed incredibly sad. Jasen wasn’t sure what to say, but then Risyda was back to herself again, giving him a sly smile. “So! I don’t think I can settle for later. Tell me everything.”
Now that Polina and Banither had left, they had a cushion of a target on each side of them. Jasen didn’t think anyone would overhear, as long as he kept his voice low. “Well, it all started with a game of mudball…”
After archery, Risyda left for her language lessons while Jasen went to practice dance. The weather had returned to its normal warmness for this time of year, and going straight from the archery to dance left Jasen feeling overheated and short of breath. His damnable corset was only making things worse. After luncheon, he headed out for a secluded spot behind the East Wing. He went there whenever he had a moment to grab a few moments of solitude.
On his way there, he ran into Larely. “Oh, thank heavens,” Jasen said when he spotted him. “I need you.”
“You need me?” Larely echoed. “For what?”
Jasen grabbed his arm and pulled him behind a tree. He took a quick look around to make sure no one else was there and shed his jacket. He turned around, bracing himself against the tree. “Undo my breeches,” he said.
Larely sputtered. “What?”
“Quickly, before someone sees us!”
It took a moment, but Jasen soon felt Larely’s hands on him, undoing the laces. Once he had them open, Jasen shimmied the breeches around his hips. “Now unlace my corset—not all the way, because I’m not going to have time to take it off completely. Just loosen the laces a little.”
There was another moment of hesitation, but Larely complied. Jasen took a long, deep breath of relief. He turned around. “Thank you, I feel much—”
But he didn’t have the chance to finish that sentence, because Larely’s lips were suddenly pressed against his own. He put his hands on Larely’s chest and pushed him away. “What are you doing?” he asked angrily.
Larely looked as confused as Jasen felt. “I was kissing you?”
“Why?”
Larely’s face was already flushed, but it grew an even deeper shade of red. “You said you needed me, and then you pulled me back here and asked me to undress you!”
“I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Well, what was I supposed to think?”
Jasen had to admit that Larely’s reading of the situation was not unreasonable. “But I thought that you and Risyda were…intimate.”
Larely furrowed his brow. “Why would you think that?”
“She kissed you the other night.”
“What, when I brought the wine? She was just teasing me—you know how she is!”
“Why did you blush?”
“I blush at everything—I have very fair skin! And you would, too, if Risyda kissed you— it’s embarrassing, like being kissed by your sister. She knows I like men.” Larely rubbed the back of his neck. “And I thought I made that clear to you as well.”
“I thought that you were just a naturally flirtatious person. I wasn’t sure it was directed at me in particular.”
“Well, now you know,” Larely said shortly. “I take it that this means you aren’t interested.”
“But you know that the king is courting me.”
“I thought you said that you didn’t want to marry the king.”
“It’s complicated,” Jasen mumbled.
“Not that complicated,” Larely said. “Of course you would marry a king if you got the chance. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? It was stupid of me to think that a noble like you would stoop so low.”
Jasen’s cheeks heated. “That isn’t fair.”
“Nothing ever is, my lord,” Larely said with a bow. “I won’t bother you any further.” He made to leave.
Which meant leaving Jasen with his clothes undone. As if this whole situation weren’t awkward enough. “Wait!”
Larely turned back. There was a tiny bit of hope in his eyes. “I need your help getting dressed again,” Jasen said tightly.
Larely stalked over to him and did up his corset and breeches. When he was finished, Jasen turned around. Larely’s face was still beet red. He seemed so embarrassed that Jasen felt a twinge of sympathy. “Larely, I—”
“Don’t,” Larely interrupted. He bowed stiffly. “Good day, my lord.” This time, he left for good.
Jasen slid down to the ground and put his hands over his face. He felt like screaming. How was he going to explain this to Risyda? He gave his face a vigorous rub. It was probably time for him to go inside—the last thing he needed today was to make more trouble.
Chapter 6
Jasen didn’t say anything to Risyda about what happened with Larely. In fact, he avoided her entirely that night, claiming a headache. The next morning, Lady Isalei called him to her parlor. Jasen was so nervous that he felt like he might vomit—had she found out about his rendezvous with the king? He didn’t think he’d be able to lie to her if she asked. His hands shook as he poured them both tea.
“I heard that you were quite ill the other day,” Lady Isalei said. “Have you recovered?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice quivering.
“Are you quite sure? You seem a bit unsteady.”
“I suppose I am still recovering a bit,” he said, happy to have an excuse for his jitters.
Lady Isalei took a sip of her tea. “The king wants to meet with you tomorrow.”
Jasen’s heart soared. “Tomorrow?”
“Of course, if you still aren’t feeling well—”
“No, I’m fully recovered!” he said, and then realized that he had just contradicted himself. “I mean—I will be fully recovered by tomorrow. I just need another night’s rest, I’m sure.”
“Good. He was very insistent on seeing you as soon as possible.”
Jasen suppressed the big, goofy grin that wanted to break out on his face. “I am anxious to see him as well,” he said with as much refinement as he could manage.
“Then it’s settled. A footman will take you to king tomorrow around mid-morning.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
As soon as he left the parlor, he did a little dance of joy. An official meeting with the king! But the joy quickly faded as he ruminated on the “official” part of it. Every other meeting between them had been just the two of them. Was this to be a formal affair? Would things between them be different? He supposed he would have to wait and see. Still, it wasn’t enough to dampen his enthusiasm.
Risyda was thrilled at the news, but Jasen made her promise not to tell anyone. It didn’t matter—by dinner time, everyone had heard the news. Polina made especially sour faces at him during dinner and loudly explained to her cohorts how much she admired the king’s dedication to fairness, seeing as he made time for even people from “the lesser realms.”
Polina’s bitterness wasn’t enough to spoil his mood, but he still felt uneasy about his encounter with Larely the previous day. Larely approached him as he was about to retire for the evening. Risyda had already gone upstairs. “Hello,” he said. He seemed sheepish.
“Hello,” Jasen said back.
“I’m an ass,” Larely said. “A great big giant ass, and I’m sorry for yesterday.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“Of course I do. I said some very unfair things.” He paused. “I hear you’re off to see the king tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“Is it what you want?”
“Yes,” Jasen said. “It really is.”
“Then I’m glad for you.” He handed him a bottle. “Here— an apology gift from me. It’s Yarlian wine— a very fine vintage from my father’s vineyard.”
Jasen accepted the bottle. “Thank you,” he said. “Why don’t you come up to Risyda’s and have a glass with us?”
“Not tonight,” Larely said. “Some othe
r time, maybe.”
“Oh. All right, then.”
Larely smiled at him, although it was a little strained. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Jasen headed up to Risyda’s, the wine bottle feeling heavy in his hand. He couldn’t help but feel he’d lost a friend. Maybe that would change later. He decided against telling Risyda. They had a lot of other things to discuss, after all. His stomach did a little flip just thinking about what was in store. Tomorrow seemed both too far away and too soon.
Jasen awoke early the next morning to prepare. A breakfast was sent up to him, but he was too nervous to eat. Even the unflappable Rotheld seemed fussy rather than efficiently meticulous. Since it was a morning appointment, Rotheld recommended less formal attire, which Jasen agreed to eagerly. The outfit they settled on was a deep blue, with only a little lace trimming and a modestly flared frock coat. They argued over the shoes; Jasen won and wore a pair with only a slightly raised heel.
Finally, a valet arrived to escort Jasen to the king’s private apartments. He hadn’t been in the palace proper yet. When they stepped into the front hall, it was all Jasen could do not to gape. The high ceiling was covered with the most beautiful murals Jasen had ever seen. They depicted the Drae, which were the central figures of their religion—the beings that were half-human, half-dragon, who had both the magical abilities of dragons and the reason of men. They were too powerful and too reckless, however, and the gods split them apart into separate creatures, and it had been that way ever since. The stories had always seemed distant to Jasen, particularly since there were no dragons in Grumhul, but the murals were so clear and so lovely that he felt the truth of it for the first time.