Page 21 of King's Warrior

Chapter Seven

Rufe slept for much of the time, no doubt due to the herbs he’d tasted in his tea. And now he lay on the bed, resigning himself to another lonely night. How many days had passed? While he resented being forced to rest, he’d have to find out about those herbs. Battlefield healers would be far better for the discovery. What else could Cormirans learn from the mountain folks?

The healer visited several times, but each time the door opened and Ned didn’t appear, Rufe’s disappointment grew. Ned, with his red hair and brilliant green eyes, was precisely the type of man Rufe preferred—at least physically. Though a keen mind wasn’t necessary for a few brief moments of shared relief, he loved someone who could challenge his intellect.

However, Ned wasn’t who he seemed to be. He didn’t speak like a servant or lower his eyes. He didn’t flinch at the reminders of Rufe’s occupation on his skin. He also didn’t ask too many questions, leading Rufe to believe he already knew the answers. Yet he didn’t mention the repercussions of a Cormiran soldier on Delletinian lands, nor had he mentioned Draylon or Yarif by name or eye Rufe with suspicion.

Ned was beautiful, the dusting of freckles across his nose adding to his youthful appearance, though he must have a few years on Rufe. He had a way of focusing on a person, asking questions, appearing genuinely interested in the answers, unlike so many people of Rufe’s acquaintance, primarily nobles. Although he’d grown up in a noble house with noble parents, he’d been born a bastard. Who paid any attention to those? Would Ned’s attention turn away if he learned the truth?

Then again, how much did Rufe know about the man? Captain Casseign mentioned taking them to see King Niam. Was he somewhere here at the keep, or were Draylon, Yarif, and Rufe to be taken to the capital once they recovered? The healer wouldn’t waste effort healing them only to see them hang, would she?

Then again, Rufe had known some sadistic bastards in his day who liked to torture victims with false hope before striking the killing blow.

Ned entered the room, dressed casually in breeches, boots, and a loose tunic. Now that Rufe had recovered more, he saw the bearing marking this man as far more than a servant. If Ned wanted to play at being a nobody, who was Rufe to stop him? Pleasure coursed through Rufe at seeing his latest infatuation again. “Good evening, Ned.”

Ned’s eyes lit up at the greeting. “Good evening, Rufe. How are you?”

“Ready to be out of this room.” However, he wouldn’t object to Ned helping him warm the sheets, though any physical contactwould have to be careful. “I’m not used to lying about. I want to see my companions.”

“All in good time.” Ned sat in the chair at Rufe’s bedside, where he had often sat. Something kept his smile subdued, and wrinkles showed on his brow.

Still, Goddess, was he ever exquisite. How Rufe’s fingertips itched to run through the silken strands of Ned’s fiery hair.

“You’re staring,” Ned pointed out.

“You’re beautiful,” Rufe blurted.

Ned chuckled. “I believe you’re still under the influence of the healer’s concoctions.” A hint of humor in his eyes belied his words.

Before Rufe could stop himself, he placed a hand behind Ned’s head and pulled him in for a kiss. For a moment, Ned stiffened before his lips went pliant against Rufe’s. Rufe hadn’t known what to expect. Ned might be an enemy, after all, but swiping his tongue-tip over the seam of Ned’s lips had him opening to allow Rufe access.

He buried his fingers in Ned’s hair, held him in place without forcing, and devoured that sweet mouth with lips and tongue. The man tasted of sweet wine and spices, making Rufe hungry, but only for Ned. He let out a low, throaty groan. What was he doing? Compromising a servant? He could get this man dismissed from his position. Where before he’d trusted others to make their own decisions about what they were willing to risk, goodness clung to Ned and brought out Rufe’s protective instincts.

If he truly was a servant.

Tremendous willpower forced Rufe to withdraw and rest his forehead against Ned’s. Their panted breaths mingled. “I’m sorry,” Rufe said on a whisper. “I don’t want to jeopardize your position.” No one knew better than Rufe how hard life became for someone no one would hire, be the shunning for an indiscretion or a tattoo.

“You’re not.” Ned rejoined their lips. He pulled back slowly, resting his forehead against Rufe’s once more. “I have a confession to make.”

What? Uh-oh.

Niam took a deep breath, cheeks puffing on the exhale. “Although I often use the name Ned, my given name is Niam. King Niam Fjell of Delletina.”

Chapter Eight

Rufe paced before the window, keeping his back to Niam, hiding any facial tells. He failed to keep the accusation from his voice—accusation Niam deserved. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Time to be truthful now if he ever expected Rufe to trust him. “I come to the keep to be myself for a while instead of King Niam. You’d have treated me differently if you knew, wouldn’t you?” They wouldn’t have gotten to know each other, laughed together, or shared a kiss that might be their last. The very thought put an ache in Niam’s heart.

“Yes. But you deceived me.”

Niam wrenched his hand through his hair—a habit Mother had tried to scold out of him. “I’ll admit that at first, I thought posing as a servant would gain me more information, but as I came to know and like you, I didn’t want anything to change. As a matter of fact, I’m amazed Draylon didn’t let something slip.”

Rufe turned then, fixing Niam with a dark-eyed gaze. “He mentioned King Niam but didn’t describe him. I thought I wasn’t important enough to gain an audience with the king.”

Niam stalked across the floor, stopping a few steps from Rufe. “You are important enough. I don’t know who made you feelunimportant in the past, but I got to observe you when you weren’t on your guard. You strike me as a good man, and I’m glad to know you.”

“Yet, I don’t know you.”

---