Page 88 of King's Warrior

Yarif likely regretted the hug, due to Niam’s current smell.

Niam managed a smile. “Thank you, King Draylon, King Consort Yarif.” His bow didn’t make him topple over by some miracle. “Can you provide provisions for my escort? And would you have a healer see to my secretary, Willem? The ride took a toll on him.”

“Certainly.” Draylon motioned over a young woman wearing a lieutenant’s insignia. “Lieutenant Lutrell. Please see King Niam’s escort and their mounts properly cared for. Also, send for a healer to check for any injuries.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lutrell saluted with an arm across her heart. She turned and addressed Casseign. After several moments, they appeared to have broken the language barrier with a series of short phrases and gestures.

Niam would check on Willem later.

“It’s always good to see you,” Draylon began, leading Niam away, “though I hardly think this is a social call.”

“I wish it was.” Niam trudged after Draylon to the Renvallian king’s office, every stair an insult to his pounding head.

Yarif said, “I’ll arrange food, drink, and a room,” and departed down the hall. Draylon watched him go, affection in his eyes. Would that Niam had someone who valued him so highly. An image of Rufe momentarily appeared in his mind.

Instead of sitting behind the desk, Draylon motioned to a pair of chairs by a window. Niam didn’t so much sit as collapse. “King Draylon—”

Draylon held up a staying hand. “In private, call me Draylon. You look exhausted. Let’s table our discussion for when you’ve eaten.”

Niam’s stomach rumbled on cue.

Draylon chuckled. “I see something agrees with me.”

A tap sounded on the door.

“Enter!” Draylon called.

Two young women entered, placing trays on the low table in front of Draylon and Niam, one casting curious glances Niam’s way while the other poured two cups of tea. The pair departed as silently as they’d come.

Niam sipped the tea. He’d forgotten the high quality of Renvallian tea. “That’s so good.”

Draylon placed bits of cheese, meat, and bread on a plate he passed to Niam. “Eat and then tell me what brings you here.”

Niam managed but a few bites with his roiling stomach. “You remember the issues we had with Lord Whreyn?”

“How could I forget the bastard? He tried to kill my Yarif.”

Niam would have been scurrying for safety if Draylon had directed that growl his way. “He has systematically been removing my loyal guards for weeks and has had my sons kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Draylon rose, dragging callused fingers through his close-cropped hair. “We should’ve killed him when we had the chance.”

“I agree, though we didn’t have enough solid evidence then.” Not without witnesses willing to come forward. He held little hope for Cousin Berthan’s continued existence.

“I suppose he’s using them against you. What does he want?” Draylon paced to the hearth and propped an elbow on the mantel.

“He wants me to marry his niece, renounce my sons, and name any son she and I have as my heir.” Niam snorted. Lady Olivia, having his son, wasn’t likely.

“Let me guess. Afterward, you’ll be locked away, declared insane, and dear old Uncle Whreyn steps in as regent.”

“That’s one option. He’s swayed other nobles to his side by convincing them a treaty with the Cormiran Empire isn’t in their best interests.”

“The fact you’re still entertaining the idea tells me it is.” Draylon sat again, picking at his own portion of meat and cheese offhandedly, attention riveted to Niam.

Niam nodded. “I won’t go into details, but if we don’t start organized trade with other kingdoms, we’ll soon be unable to keep our people fed. We have gold, but you can’t eat gold or plant nuggets for crops.”

“I see. Yarif has studied and presented ideas for new crops suited for Renvalle’s environment. Perhaps he can do the same for you.”

“I’d be most grateful for any suggestions.” Maybe a change in the old methods would yield better results.

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