Page 125 of King's Warrior

As part of the empire, Delletinian citizens enjoyed the freedom to travel among the other kingdoms. Two of Mother’s sisters already paid visits openly, where they’d have snuck over the border before.

Niam would manage the kingdom as a state within the Empire with Rufe’s help. Two significant advantages: no longer paying black market prices for Renvallian tea and Herixian wine.

Quillan and Uri squirmed in their chairs near the thrones, fast approaching the limits of their ability to remain still. Mother, seated beside them, wore a simple buttery yellow dress, a lone citrine hanging from her neck, with matching citrines dangling from her ears. The earrings were a gift from her late mother, the pendant from Yarif, from his own mother’s collection. Like Niam, Mother believed nobles shouldn’t lord their wealth over others, particularly not with the country in recovery from so many unforeseen events, so she’d eschewed the state diamonds or other displays of wealth.

They’d rebuild the lost villages, plow farmland left fallow for too long, adding new crops known to favor Delletina’s climate.

Rufe’s parents sat with Mother and the boys. There was no denying Rufe’s parentage, as he resembled his father too closely to be anything other than father and son.

Niam had chosen tan trousers and simple footwear for today. Besides his bonding ring, his only embellishment was a tunic embroidered by his mother, along with a small gold circlet. On a less formal occasion, he’d have worn lengths of gathered cloth instead of trousers, an ancient tradition in the mountains.

Rufe approached from a side entrance, dressed in a formal Cormiran commander’s uniform, perhaps for the last time.

Draylon and Yarif sat among the nobles, another nod to royalty not lifting themselves above their people. Avestan watched from the balcony, his guards insisting he not move closer. Vihaan stood behind Avestan’s chair, as imposing as ever.

Niam gave Rufe a small smile, noticing the rigidity of his stance. The stiff set of Rufe’s shoulders relaxed as they traversed side by side down the aisle leading from the door to the thrones. Rufe’s eyes widened at the sight of the modification Niam ordered, which was hopefully a good thing.

Rather than the consort's throne being a miniature replica of the king’s, sitting on a lower riser, two matching thrones now sat adjacent. Niam would rule as an equal with his consort, though with vastly distinct skill sets.

All spectators rose.

Niam took Rufe’s hand, admiring the matching gold bands, Niam’s now bearing an emerald, Rufe’s a ruby, and led him tothe thrones. Rufe’s steps slowed, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow.

Niam leaned close, whispering, “It’s all right, love. You’re right where you belong, next to me.”

Rufe inhaled a deep breath, took the remaining steps to the thrones, and waited for Niam to be seated first.

One of many traditions Niam hoped to put to the ax. “No, love. We do this together.”

They sat as one, Niam releasing Rufe to grip the armrests, where his father’s hands once rested, and his grandfather’s, going back many generations. Today wouldn’t be a formal wedding, merely an announcement of Niam's and Rufe’s bond.

The herald announced, “Gentle people of Delletina. Our esteemed guests, I give you His Royal Highness, King Niam Fjell, and King Consort Rufe Ferund Fjell. Long may they reign.”

The people applauded, some admittedly more enthusiastically than others. There would always be someone bitter. For now, Niam would bask in the glow of having his sons returned, his throne safe, and securing favorable trade agreements with the empire.

And Rufe, the man he’d despaired of having. They’d work out details, like how to manage Rufe’s Cormiran dukedom once the current duke passed through the veil, though Draylon himself established a duke didn’t need to be present for a duchy to be successful, provided he found trustworthy stewards.

The ranking citizens approached one by one. “Congratulations on your bonding, Your Majesties,” Lord Toad croaked. “You know you have my undying loyalty.”

Niam translated the meaning as,You have my loyalty as long as I have no other choice.He replied, “My consort and I plan to visit some of the closer villages in the coming days to communicate some recommendations we’ve received. We want to allay any fears. I trust you’ll welcome us into your home.”

Lord Toad appeared to have swallowed a fly. “Why, of course, Your Majesty.” He hurried off. Another fawning noble took his place. The parade of nobles moved slowly.

Uri fidgeted and kicked Quillan’s ankle. At the new tutor's exasperated motioning, Niam nodded, permitting the princes to leave. On and on, the well-wishers droned, Niam nodding when expected to, Rufe paying rapt attention, trying to absorb all they said with his vastly improved Delletinian.

The approaching noble asked, “May I see the mark?”

Rufe held back a sigh as he rolled up his sleeve.

“Oh!” the woman cried. “So it is true! The goddess blessed you!” The divine scar on his wrist discolored the skin, making the former tattoo nearly invisible.

When the room finally emptied but for Niam, Yarif, Draylon, and Avestan—along with their assorted guards—Niam rose, stretching until his back audibly cracked. He eyed Avestan. “However do you handle audiences every day?”

Avestan winked. “I don’t. My secretaries screen those who want an audience. Saves me a lot of time wasted on frivolous complaints.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I believe the kitchen staff arranged a private table for us in the dining room.”

Niam sat at a table upon a raised dais with his mother, sons, Rufe, Yarif, Draylon, a heavily guarded Avestan, Rufe's parents, and a few trusted courtiers, not to set themselves above others but that others might see the ruling family. Also, Casseign’s guards could keep better watch this way. In the coming days, Captain Casseign might well find himself Commander Casseign.

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