Page 92 of King's Warrior

So, at least they’d expected him. “No. It’s late. I’ll find bunks in the barracks tonight for me and my men.”

The gate swung open, but the other guard stood in the way. “I’m sorry, Commander, but King Draylon said to send you to him immediately when you arrived.”

So much for getting rest first. As much as he’d love to find out about Niam, Rufe needed sleep and a clear head, or he might go haring off to Delletina unprepared. However, when Draylon called, Rufe answered, like a million times before.

He followed the guard across a courtyard he’d first seen strewn with dead Renvallians mere seasons ago, after Yarif’s father’s planned rebellion, and entered Renvalle castle. At least he didn’t have to step over bodies this time.

Rufe sat in the antechamber of the rooms Draylon shared with Yarif, rumored to have once been the domain of Yarif’s grandfather, sipping tea and waiting.

He’d barely set the cup down when the door opened. Draylon stepped out, yanking Rufe out of the chair and crushing him in an embrace.

“Oi! Go easy, Dray! I’ve had a rough few days!”

Draylon stepped back, chuckling. “My apologies. It’s so good to see you.” His smile broadened. “Lord Rufe.”

Rufe snorted, nearly falling into the chair. “I’m just Rufe, the same as ever. I didn’t even wantthe title.”

Draylon’s smile fell. “I know. And I’m sorry about your brother.”

“So am I. Now, enough small talk. What’s going on with Niam? Where is he? Is he all right? Is he safe?” Rufe’s heart hammered.

“He’s fine, currently asleep in guest quarters.”

Rufe shot to his feet. “Where? Take me to him!”

Draylon placed his big hands on Rufe’s biceps, holding him in place. “Hold up. He’s resting. He’s had some rough days, too. I need to talk to you before you see him.”

Oh. This again. Rufe sighed. “I know. As a lowly soldier and a bastard, I have no right—”

Draylon’s hand over his mouth stopped Rufe’s tirade. “First off, my brother named you a commander, a position I used to hold, and now you’re an emissary, a position for which I’m uniquely unqualified. Second, I know my brother legitimized you; third, you’re now a duke’s heir, so you’re titled nobility. Get used to it. I had to.”

Rufe rolled his eyes upward, glowering at Draylon, and licked his palm.

Draylon yanked his hand back. “Ewww… you little…” They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Draylon bent and embraced Rufe again. “Damn, but I missed you.”

“Likewise,” Rufe managed enough air to say while squirming from Draylon’s crushing embrace. “Being an emissary doesn’t really suit me.”

Draylon finally released his hold. “Why not?”

“I kept wanting to stab people, and I’ve been told that’s not a successful diplomatic strategy.”

“I’d save drastic measures for a last resort.”

“When can I see Niam?”

“Soon. Avestan is on his way.”

“Really? Why?” The situation must be worse than Rufe originally thought.

“We need to make our support official. Whreyn fears a treaty, but his highhanded assholery guaranteed the outcome. Avestan is coming to complete negotiations, and we’ll sign treaties with Delletina. Then, the Cormiran forces will back King Niam against the coup attempt.”

Rufe’s heart hammered. Desperate men acted without thinking. “What about his sons? Whreyn could kill them out of spite.”

“We already have a team in place for a rescue effort.”

Of course, Draylon did. “Who are they? Do you trust them?”

“I only need to say one word to calm all your fears, so here goes. Exa.”

---