Page 41 of King's Warrior

Draylon ignored the comment about his father—not his favorite conversational topic. “Each additional scandal reduces Ronwith's chances of finding a suitable spouse—or rather, someone suitable for his inheritance.”

“I see nothing I can do, particularly as I’m indefinitely bound out of the empire.” Rufe avoided Draylon’s gaze.Which is your doingremained unsaid.

“If things continue, he might find himself chatting with my brother.”

“Why would Avestan intervene?” Emperor Soland used to control nobility with an iron hand. He’d taken the lives of at least three kings, countless dukes, and who knew who else. Suspicious accidents were commonplace. But he’d never interfered with heirs until they received a title, possibly hoping the foolish ones would die first of their own bad choices, saving him the effort. Avestan was less likely, not more, to step in against an heir.

“Because you’re important to me, and therefore important to Avestan. He’ll not take kindly to having your family name ruined.”

Rufe snorted. “As if having a traitor bastard son isn’t enough to cause gossip.” He lifted the cup to his lips, such delicate porcelain against his callused fingertips.

Draylon snatched the cup away. “You’re one of the most honorable men I know, bedroom habits notwithstanding, and yourose through the ranks to commander on your own merit. You’re also my friend. I’d gut any other man who spoke of you in such a manner.” The fire in his eyes would’ve scared lesser men.

Draylon would never know how much his fiery defense soothed Rufe’s soul. Few people’s opinion mattered—Draylon’s did. “My apologies, Your Royal Drayness. While I personally don’t care what people think of me, even I can only take so much of having my status thrown in my face. I couldn’t leave home fast enough.” He’d been twelve when he’d left for a military school where he’d met Draylon. Draylon had been a couple of years older, but he’d taken Rufe under his wing.

“I remember. But know if there were a fight, I’d rather have you at my back than anyone else.” Draylon tipped his head to the side. “Except maybe for Yarif.”

“Yeah, you’d want himat your backfor sure.” Rufe chuckled. His and Draylon’s previous physical involvement hadn’t changed their friendship, allowing him true happiness at Draylon’s good fortune in finding love.

And maybe a bit of jealousy. Not of Yarif, but of the love Draylon and Yarif shared.

The quip earned a lovely flush to Draylon’s cheeks—again. Ah, such a recent development. Embarrassment and Draylon seldom appeared in the same conversation.

"Putting aside his bedroom talents," Rufe continued with a smirk trying to break through, "Yarif might be slightly built, but he is lethal when necessary." He took his cup back from Draylon’sunresisting fingers. “I still want him to teach me some of the moves he learned from his mysterious teacher.”

“He’s tried with me. Some of his methods require a thinner, more flexible body. Like Yarif’s.” Draylon waved a hand, indicating his bulky form.

Though a few inches shorter than Yarif, Niam had a similar physique. As king of a predominantly peaceful kingdom, Niam’s early development included little in the way of swordsmanship, save for a few basic knife skills, Nera had said. Knife skills she’d taught him herself. Niam shouldn’t be left defenseless now, especially not in these troubled times, with enemies closing in. Niam might have been gone from his kingdom for too long already, regardless of his mother’s excellent abilities to rule in his stead. If only Rufe could arrange for Yarif to train Niam. Or maybe find another teacher of a similar build who could adapt fighting skills to his stature.

“Regardless,” Draylon said, “you rest today. Tomorrow, you must leave for Delletina while Telaga Pass is clear.”

“Have I overstayed my welcome?” Rufe couldn’t help teasing, though panic gripped his heart. He’d faced many new situations over time, but usually with Draylon at his side. Venturing out on his own felt foreign. And while he had no problem being a commander in name only, he had no desire to be a diplomat. But his emperor had spoken. Rufe would obey to the best of his ability.

The Draylon who’d overseen numerous military campaigns and witnessed the resulting carnage, replaced Draylon, the friend. “The sooner the king returns, the better. I trust you to deliver him safely to his kingdom.” A muscle jumped in Draylon’s jaw.

What wasn’t he saying? “I understand.”

“There’s one more thing you need to know. Niam’s most insidious enemy, Lord Whreyn, has been reported near Dellamar Castle. His cousin, the boy who divulged information to Whreyn, has disappeared, as have any others who can testify against him. I’d have you leave today if the delay wasn’t for necessary preparations. Avestan is sending Vihaan with you.”

Vihaan, Commander of the Glendoran forces and a friend of Draylon’s, was a veritable mountain of a man. At least Rufe would have a seasoned, friendly warrior at his side. One whose size alone sent many foes running.

Because regardless of any planning, trouble always found Rufe.

Chapter Sixteen

Niam reached across the bed to find cool sheets. The sun's first rays now peeked in the windows, adding to his heart's heaviness. Another day closer to his and Rufe’s parting.

He needed to return home. He’d brought soldiers to help Draylon defeat his corrupt father, but Emperor Soland had now died. Why had Niam dawdled instead of turning immediately back toward Delletina?

Oh, to negotiate the details of a treaty between Delletina and the Cormiran Empire. It had nothing to do with spending timein Rufe’s company. Nothing at all.

Hah. Niam had never been a convincing liar. The Rufe situation increased Niam’s worry. Since when had he put a lover before his people, his kingdom?

He sat on the side of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face, fingers catching on light stubble. If he'd been home, his manservant would have entered soon to prepare him for the day. Here, he’d have to rely on the valet his cousin Yarif had loaned him or take care of matters himself.

Would Rufe come too? When he’d been in Delletina before, he’d been recovering from injuries. He’d be a hated Cormiran in theeyes of many of Niam’s people. How much more hatred would he receive coming back in an official capacity? What if Niam couldn’t keep him safe?

He snorted. Imagine him trying to keep a career soldier safe—and not simply any soldier, but the commander of the Cormiran forces. Still, while Rufe might know the battlefield, he didn’t know the ruthless battles fought in ornate parlors.

---