Page 42 of King's Warrior

Niam rose, donned a robe, and entered the tasteful but sparsely furnished antechamber, where maids had laid out a bath, clothes, and a light repast. He’d fill his belly, bathe, shave, then dress. After all, he wasn’t some coddled noble who must wait for a valet’s attention, even if he was a king.

He’d no sooner put the finishing touches on combing the tangles out of his copper curls when a knock sounded at the door. “Enter.”

A guard opened the door, followed by Yarif. “Good morning, King Niam.” Making their familial connection public knowledge wasn't safe until all negotiations between their two kingdoms concluded.

“Good morning, King Consort Yarif,” Niam said formally, waiting until the guard took up his station on the other side of the door to grin and sweep his cousin into a hug. Oh, how glorious to see his cousin after so many seasons apart, to witness the amazing person he’d grown into.

“Have you eaten?” Yarif asked. He’d dressed in a heavily embroidered green tunic, darker green trousers that hugged his litheframe, and soft shoes, indicating he meant to stay indoors for a while.

“Yes, I’ve had a morning meal.” Niam waved a hand to indicate the table where crumbs adorned a plate. “Thank you.”

“I sent for more tea.”

The knock came with perfect timing, and a young maid swept in bearing a silver tea service. She deposited her burden on a side table and curtseyed her way from the room, making sure the door latched behind her with a rattle of the handle, far more discreet than many maids might be with a visiting king in residence.

Yarif perched on a brocaded chair, pouring two cups of tea and adding sugar and cream to his.

Niam took the other chair, lifting his cup to his lips with a wink. “Be sure to include this wonderful tea in any trade negotiations.”

“Already noted.” Yarif took a sip and set his cup on a side table, a slight frown on his lips. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

Niam’s heart plunged to his stomach along with the tea. “What news? Have you received word from Delletina? Are the boys okay? Mother?”

“Yes, but Lord Whreyn has been spotted near the castle. Draylon is briefing Rufe.”

Whreyn. The slippery eel who’d made attempts on Draylon and Yarif’s lives still evaded capture and had taken advantage of Niam’s young cousin for information. “I need to go home immediately.”

Yarif’s short locks swept over his forehead with his nod. “Preparations are being made for you to leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Why not today?” Niam couldn’t get home soon enough.

“Because of the threat, we have to provide additional security. Since most of the troops you brought with you have returned home and many Delletinians hate all things Cormiran, we’re sending Glendoran soldiers as your guard. Glendor is a newer part of the empire and less despised than Cormira, correct?”

Niam hated to admit the truth. “Yes.” He also hated to suggest, “Is Rufe staying here? He’s still recovering from his injuries.”

Yarif’s laugh held a light, musical quality. “Do you think he’d stay? Once he’s had time to think things over, he’ll be determined to protect you, and Draylon trusts him to do so. I’m also concerned about his healing, but Draylon assures me Rufe has survived far worse.”

The many scars on Rufe’s body bore testament to how much he’d endured. “I’m sure he has, but I didn’t know him then.”

Yarif smiled, lighting his delicate features. “I’m glad Rufe has found someone besides myself and Draylon to appreciate him and not listen to his rantings about being unworthy. Draylon wouldn’t tolerate him as a friend if he weren’t a decent man. And he’s renown for his use of a sword.”

“You’re pretty good with a blade, too, I’m told.” When not covered with welts and bruises.

Yarif winced, flexing his back where those welts still healed. “Yes, but not a broadsword. I prefer a rapier or daggers.”

“Daggers? Mother uses daggers and taught me a bit.”

“I believe our mothers learned from their father.” He smirked. “Draylon’s soldiers originally underestimated me, but not for long.”

“I can only imagine. I wish my father had allowed me to train with the guards or learn more from my mother, then I wouldn’t feel so inadequate sometimes.” His father had looked down on the warrior kings of old and felt royalty didn’t need to know such skills. Oh, how wrong he’d been.

“You didn’t grow up in a kingdom poised for war at any moment. I wish you could stay here, as I’ve enjoyed having family around once more. Perhaps I could visit when you’ve calmed your troublesome nobles. I’d love to meet your boys and see Aunt Nera again.”

“Quillan and Uri would adore you and your siblings. I hope someday soon I can bring them for a visit.”

Despite the Delletinian people's hatred of most lowlanders, they would undoubtedly shower beautiful Yarif with attention. His kind heart had led many to believe him incapable of ruthlessness when required. They’d soon learned. “I’ve enjoyed my visit and am glad we could help you and Draylon against the emperor, but I must go home.” He’d been gone too long already.

“We appreciate your help.” Yarif caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

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