Page 40 of King's Warrior

Rufe snorted. “A lowly….”

Draylon held up a hand. “Before you start in on your normal self-deprecation, I’d like to remind you that you’re now Commander Rufe.”

“Avestan really visited me last night? It wasn’t just a dream?”

“No, not a dream. Now, are you ready to return King Niam to Delletina?” Draylon grinned, waggling his brows suggestively. He’d never let Rufe live down having wound up in a king’s bed. Ah, the pull of redheads. Rufe’s biggest weakness.

“How can I be commander of Cormiran troops from Delletina? Avestan said you’d explain.” Especially since Avestan bestowed the honor, red-faced, after witnessing Rufe crawl over Niam to get out of bed.

Rufe kept his tone steady, betraying nothing. As much as he’d love to continue what he’d started with Niam, he should be here, doing his duty to the empire. After all, the empire had charged him with creating a garrison in Renvalle, and Renvalle had no shortage of attractive redheads for him to pursue, though, at the moment, none appealed to him except Niam.

It's only the novelty of bedding royalty,Rufe told himself. His inner voice screamed,“Liar!”

Draylon prepared a cup of tea, adding a generous helping of cream. “What’s really on your mind?”

“Your brother took leave of his senses and named me commander, and yet the two of you want me to play politics in Delletina, a role that, although I have many gifts, I’m totally unsuited for.” Of course, managing legions of soldiers wasn’t exactly his idea of happy times either. Rufe wouldn’t say that escorting King Niam back to the Delletinian capital, watching him be King Niam instead of simply Niam, being banned from the royal bed and having to face ostracism for his Cormiran ancestry, might be beyond Rufe’s ability to accept. Especially without getting roaringdrunk or telling some wealthy noble where they could shove their unwanted opinions.

Which wouldn’t work well for diplomacy, would it? Even so, to be with Niam, keeping him safe… Dare Rufe hope?

“My brother named me and Yarif emissaries to Delletina, but wants you included, as Yarif and I will be quite busy for a while. You have developed an affection for Niam. Who better to care for him? Can you imagine the furor we’d face if something happened to him while our guest? The position of commander gives you the authority you might need, though Avestan placed a Dragan commander over the physical forces.”

Care? Surely Draylon wasn’t suggesting Rufe cared about one of his conquests. And he heartily approved of the Dragan commander, despite the bitter memories the mere mention of Draige inspired. “Caring isn’t the issue. If his enemies found out about his relationship with me, they’d use the connection against him. I won’t be a weakness.” Another reason to make a clean break while the memories were still mostly good.

A knowing smile spread across Draylon’s familiar face. “You, dear Rufe, could never be a weakness. You’re too much of a soldier, one of the finest, if notthefinest, I’ve ever seen.”

One didn’t need legitimate birth, station, or dignity to take lives. “I’m but an instrument of the empire.” The words came out with far more sarcasm than Rufe intended.

“Even so, you’d make an excellent commander if you didn’t prefer the battlefield to all the behind-the-scenes drudgery that comes with the job. And you can belittle yourself all you’d like. Iknow the truth.” Draylon raised an imperious brow. “I am king. My word is law.”

Rufe snorted. “Keep telling yourself pretty lies. We both know you're a figurehead, and your beloved Yarif actually rules the kingdom.”

The retort did nothing to erase the smile from Draylon’s face. “Foolish is the man who changes a winning strategy. The people of Renvalle love Yarif as much for his heredity as for himself. They merely tolerate me. As long as he feeds me and strokes my ego occasionally, I can live with those terms.” Draylon might be king, but he’d been a soldier first and knew a thing or two about strategy.

Rufe guffawed and didn’t add,and as long as he warms your bed?“Is your ego all you want to have stroked by the lovely Yarif?”

They’d been friends for most of their lives—this was one of the few times Rufe ever witnessed Draylon blush. “Know that you’ll keep good company. Vihaan is also relieved of command while keeping his rank, as Avestan plans to use his expertise in other ways.”

Yes, good company indeed, for the Glendoran commander came to Rufe and Draylon’s aid when many others wouldn’t have.

“I wanted to talk to you about your brother,” Draylon said without preamble, taking on a somber tone.

Those words sucked any joy from the room. Uh-oh. What now? “What has the incompetent idiot done now? I’ve successfully avoided being in the same room with Ronwith for several seasons now. I love the boy dearly. Avoiding him helps.” Or rather, Rufe loved the brother Ronwith had once been.

Draylon exhaled a noisy breath. “He’s made enemies and has troubling gambling debts. Word has reached as far as the capital.”

“Father can’t reel him in?” Mother ignored her youngest son’s exploits, but surely Father would put his foot down. Then again, putting his foot down hadn’t helped much with Rufe.

“No. He’s tried. Even tightened the purse strings. Ronwith merely borrows money in your father’s name, forcing him to either pay the bills or lose face.”

Rufe winced inwardly, refusing to show embarrassment for his sire. Though his father controlled great wealth, he hadn’t amassed his current fortune by being frivolous. Rufe gave the rehearsed answer he always used when someone complained about his brother. “Ronnie’s young. I’m sure he’ll grow out of this rebellious phase.” Why tell Rufe at all? He held no sway over his brother, and he’d been young and irresponsible himself at Ronnie’s age—two summers ago—still was, actually. A lack of family obligations left Rufe free to chase his own pursuits without further sullying the family name. People expected bastards to be bastards, after all.

Draylon heaved out a sigh. “I wanted you to hear the truth before rumors reached your ears.”

Too late. Rumors started swirling about Ronwith Ferund when he tried to corner a young maid in the pantry at age thirteen, and Rufe saved her. Another thing Ronnie held against Rufe. “How kind of you, but Ronnie barely tolerates my existence. There’s nothing I can do or say.”

“Very true.” Draylon stared into his teacup. “Gods know, I had little control over Soland’s actions.”

“Soland,” not “Father.” Telling. “He was your sire, not your brother. Old and well-educated enough to have obtained a modicum of wisdom.” Rufe sipped his tea. King Draylon provided the good stuff. Nothing bested Renvallian tea.

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