Page 58 of King's Warrior

“Not publicly, no, but rumors are stirring about an alliance with the empire. Those you’ve already met with weren’t discreet. Many who wish to curry favor may soon approach you privately.”

Over the years, plenty of people had tried to win Rufe’s favor for access to the emperor’s son, which they mistakenly believed would lead to access to the emperor. Rufe had long ago become immune to flattery. “That doesn’t work on me.” The flattery always turned to insults when Rufe refused to do another’s bidding.

Nera’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I know. It shall be entertaining to watch.” She settled back into her chair, nibbling at her portion of roast pheasant.

Rufe kept a keen watch on those who glared at Niam and those who smiled, treating the experience as a reconnaissance mission, asking Nera for names when he noticed a particularly hostile-looking individual.

He’d love to chat with Casseign as the captain of the king’s personal guard, but he had to approach this setting as a diplomat, not rely on his military training. However, some of the Glendoran soldiers who’d come with them knew of his previous career, having accompanied Niam and Rufe to Renvalle to support Yarif and Draylon.

Worse, Zanial knew. Rufe couldn’t muster any trust for the man. Then again, Rufe trusted few people.

Rufe missed Draylon. Missed his fellow soldiers. Missed knowing his duties and his capabilities. Bedding who he would and generally living down to his reputation. Feeling lost didn’t come easy. Once more, he glanced at Niam, attentively listening to the man to his left, or pretending to.

Niam. Being together made Rufe feel needed, cherished… loved. But King Niam didn’t need Rufe. They shared little in common. In time, Niam would come to see their incompatibility. Besides, what could be the best possible outcome regarding the two of them? For Niam to marry Rufe, make him king consort?

No. What they shared must soon end, and Rufe would return to his former life—alone, but for whatever temporary lovers he found to fill his bed.

A messenger approached the guards standing behind Niam’s chair, rising on her toes to whisper something to Casseign. He followed the messenger, jaw visibly clenched.

Rufe nodded to Vihaan, who left his position by the wall shortly thereafter, trailing Cass. Whatever news he’d gotten couldn’t be good, and Rufe was safe enough at the table not to require a guard.

He sipped his wine, kept an eye out for danger, and brooded. Who could blame him if he occasionally sought the comfort of his boot dagger under the guise of adjusting a trouser leg?

Rufe waited for the king and his family to leave the room, followed by advisors and guards. No hopes of seeing Niam tonight, not with so many circling him like flies after honey. Still, he casually stood and trailed behind them.

The royals strolled from the room via their private entrance into the open courtyard, stepping from warmth to bracing cold. Only Zanial and another advisor followed the royal family now.

Rufe pulled out his boot knife and kept watch from a distance. Oh, to have his sword, but what need would a diplomat have of a sword at dinner?

“Goodnight, Father,” the boys said.

Niam bent, kissing Quillan on the head, then Uri. “Good night. Pleasant dreams.”

“Good night,” Nera said, disappearing into the darkness, a silent guard at her heels.

Niam chatted with the advisor, head down. What? Niam should pay attention to his surroundings. Where was Casseign? Why weren’t there guards closer?

The dimly lit courtyard, illuminated by torches, allowed plenty of places to hide. Rufe slipped into the shadows behind a massive pillar before scurrying to the next. Was that a flash of metal in the torchlight? Rufe blinked, staring in the direction he thought he’d seen something.

A figure hid in the shadows, watching Niam intently, to the exclusion of all else. Not a professional, then. Rufe crept closer, carefully placing his footfalls to avoid making a sound.

Niam approached the man’s hiding spot. The two other men fell back. The attacker sprang from the shadows, plunging a knife toward Niam’s chest.

Steel rang with steel as the knife met Rufe’s blade. The attacker’s knife clanged to the floor, and his eyes went wide. He turned and fled, but he wasn’t the dangerous one there. Rufe spun in time to catch Zanial charging, dagger in hand.

Rufe blocked the blow, sending the dagger spiraling into the dark, ringing against the flagstones. He aimed his dagger at Zanial’s chest.

Zanial lifted his hands, his eyes wild. Rufe kept his blade pointed at the bastard’s treacherous throat.

Four guards charged across the flagstones, swords at the ready, followed by a man Rufe hadn’t seen before dinner. Why hadn’t the guards already been here escorting their king? Who had lured Casseign away from his post?

Niam stood a few feet away, clutching the dagger he’d been threatened with in one hand, a bit of hay in the other. A lieutenant of the guard approached, motioning two others forward. “Please take King Niam to his quarters. Stay until Captain Casseign comes.”

“No.” Rufe glared at the lieutenant.

“What? How dare you override my authority?”

Niam’s voice cracked like a whip. “Lieutenant!”

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