Page 17 of King's Warrior

Rufe thought Niam beautiful? Sure, he’d heard compliments before, from people who wanted to flatter a king, not flirt with a servant. No time to dwell on such now.

Niam paused outside of the next door. So much could go right in the next few hours, but much could go wrong, too. He nodded to the guards by the door, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. Both guards followed him.

The man lying in the canopied bed appeared as large as Mother had said, arms and bare chest covered in dark fur, much denser than Rufe’s. Wrappings secured the wound on his shoulder. He appeared a few years younger than Niam.

His Majesty, King Draylon Aravaid of Renvalle. Yarif’s husband. Niam regarded Draylon from across the room before stepping closer. He’d been raised in diplomacy from youth, though he usually conducted business in an office, not a bedroom.

Niam settled into a chair by the bed, his guards taking up position behind him.

Draylon let out a long snore, then jerked awake.

Niam pasted on his best courtly smile. “Good morning, Your Majesty. Or are you still pretending to be a lowly merchant?” Headdressed Draylon in Renvallian. He’d keep his other languages to himself for now.

“Depends on who’s asking.” The growl in the man’s words sounded to be more from lack of sleep than animosity.

“Ah, where are my manners?” Niam stood, performing a sweeping bow. “King Niam of Delletina, at your service.”

“King… King Niam?” Draylon blinked hard a few times, then shook his head, as though dislodging the remnants of sleep.

“Niam, please, whenever I’m not at court. I escape to my country estate when I simply want to be Niam. Imagine my surprise when my guards discovered you in a deserted village nearby.”

“You know who I am?”

Niam gave a rueful head tilt, returning to his chair. “I’m afraid your consort talks in his sleep while delirious from fever.” At least, that was the story Niam used for now. He’d not volunteer too much, allowing Draylon to contradict Rufe if needed. Why did the thought of Rufe lying twist Niam’s insides?

Niam added a touch of steel to his voice. “Don’t worry. I’ve never been one to act without thinking. I’m certain you have good reasons for trespassing, and as soon as you’re ready, I’ll hear your confession.” He threaded his fingers together in his lap.

“My consort was kidnapped. I came after him.”

Truth. “Why not bring a retinue? I’m told there was only a handful in your party and even fewer now.”

Draylon winced, the expression barely perceptible. “I’d hoped to slip in, get him, and get out. I don’t wantany territorial disputes. I only want my consort. Besides, we weren't sure you hadn't ordered his abduction.”

No one who really knew Niam would suspect him of such cruelty. Would they? Niam pursed his lips, bringing his fingertips to his mouth. “You love your consort.” Not a necessary line of questioning, but it was something he wanted to know. Yarif deserved to be happy.

“I promised to protect him.”

“You were certainly thorough in getting him back. My men found around a dozen bodies, all wearing uniforms of the Delletina forces, and a few wounded. Not a single survivor spoke our language. Curious.”

“Not so curious when I believe they intended to kill Yarif, blame Delletina, and start a war.” This time, the growl sounded full of anger.

“A war. Oh, my.” It took a lot of willpower to sound casual.

“You said there were survivors.”

“Yes, there were. They didn’t survive long after being found. No, my men didn’t kill them. They succumbed to their injuries.” No need to mention how they became injured, or how the last two died.

“I could have questioned them.”

“Perhaps we’ll find another survivor yet. I have my men searching the area. While we wait, we should get to know each other since we represent neighboring countries.” Now, to get down to business. “Unlike others, I seek no wars, particularly not whenpeaceful negotiations accomplish far more, with less loss of life. Unless one dies of boredom reading over contracts.”

Draylon folded his arms over his chest, grimacing slightly from his shoulder wound. “I want to see Yarif.”

“After our chat.”Not until Mother says soremained unsaid. “Even if your consort backs your story, how can I trust you? Our countries have long considered each other enemies.”

“If you didn’t trust me, I’d be in a cell.”

Niam laughed, pulling back the edge of his tunic to reveal his sword, though he couldn’t hope to win a sword fight with the man lying before him—even with his injuries. “I don’t think you’re a match for me at the moment,” Niam lied. “I’m not keeping you from him, but my very life is in peril if I dare to disturb him while he’s resting.” He tipped his head to the side in a thoughtful gesture. “Besides, we have no cells here at the keep. Mother turned them into storage rooms long ago, and it’s simply not worth the trouble to clear them out. You’re not saying you need to be kept in a cell, are you?”

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