Page 96 of King's Warrior

Rufe stood tall. Good things didn’t happen to him, not like this. Any moment, he’d wake to find this day to be a dream. He’d enjoy the moment until then. “By my own free will, I enter into this union and make these vows, pledging myself to King Niam Fjell.”

The cleric shifted his attention to Niam. “Your Majesty King Niam Fjell, son of King Reed Fjell and Queen Nera Fjell of Delletina. Do you enter into this union of your own free will, and of your own free will do you make these vows?”

Rufe watched, hoping to catch Niam’s eye. Niam stared straight ahead. Did he have doubts? Was he thinking of the last time he took vows? Rufe fought the urge to rub his sweaty palms against his thighs.

Niam’s voice remained steady as he recited, “By my own free will, I enter into this union and make these vows, pledging myself to Commander Rufe Ferund.”

Draylon stepped forward, dropping a ring into Rufe’s outstretched hand. Thanks to its highly arched roof, Rufe’s voice sounded unnaturally loud in the nearly empty chapel. “I present this token as a symbol of our binding, letting all who see know we are as one.” He lifted Niam’s left hand and placed a plain gold band on the third finger. Niam deserved a better ring. Once the boys returned and all was right in Delletina again, Rufe would commission one, perhaps with emeralds to match Niam’s eyes. He’d certainly saved enough during his military career, not to mention the allowance he’d now receive as heir — an allowance he’d always returned before, wanting to earn his own way in life.

Yarif handed a ring to Niam. Niam acknowledged him with a nod. “I present this token as a symbol of our binding, letting all who see know we are as one.” He placed the ring on Rufe’s finger, holding Rufe’s hand a few moments longer, stroking a fingertip over the shining band.

Typical vows would now be over. Rufe borrowed from Draylon’s bonding, adding lines used by long-ago warrior kings. “I give my solemn vow to use my skills and position to protect you and yours, up to and with my dying breath.”

Niam must have consulted with Yarif, for he replied as Yarif had done: “What skills and knowledge I have, I will use for you. I am no warrior, but in matters where I can assist, I will.”

The cleric cleared his throat and said, “Go forth and celebrate the bond the two of you have forged. Blessings on you and your families.”

Rufe lost himself in Niam’s shimmering green eyes. “Are you happy?”

“Yes. Very. But I’ll be ecstatic in a moment.” Niam grinned and covered Rufe’s mouth with his own, sealing the bond with a kiss.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Niam, Rufe, Avestan, Yarif, Draylon, and two secretaries squeezed into Draylon’s office. Draylon and Yarif stood by the desk, with Avestan behind the sprawling wooden monstrosity. Rufe and Niam sat across from Avestan in two chairs. Willem and Avestan’s secretary stood nearby.

Niam sat with his leg pressed to Rufe’s, wishing for his mother. She’d been a de facto co-ruler during his father’s reign, but now he made the most important decisions about his country’s future alone.

No, not alone. With his consort by his side and input from people he trusted. Granted, they were men more used to war than treaties, but Rufe trusted Avestan and his advisors. A few of Niam’s advisors had offered valuable suggestions, though most only looked out for themselves. Some of his advisors had proved duplicitous. Sad that he trusted these foreigners more.

Niam read over the contract again. “This is very generous.” Far more generous than Rufe discussed with the nobles in Dellamar.

Avestan replied, “I’m adjusting the other kingdoms’ agreements if I find Father short-changed any. You're welcome to renegotiate if you find some detail later not to your liking.”

While Cormira would receive gold from Delletina, the empire wouldn’t claim land, making the nobles’ arguments about losing their homes moot. The lowlands yielded the foodstuffs Delletina desperately needed, and the abandoned villages, while not safe for habitation, could become a grazing ground for Herixian goats, which yielded wool, milk, and meat and could likely find sure footing on a dagger’s edge, opening grazing grounds most shepherds feared.

Avestan would provide troops until Niam stabilized the kingdom, and the nobles recognized Niam as the rightful king. Privately, Yarif had offered insight into alternate crops for a cooler climate and methods to determine where to build villages with minimal possibility of destruction by the elements. Nothing in the treaty would harm the people of Delletina; it merely used their otherwise useless gold stores and demanded a little labor to keep trade routes open. Niam signed the documents, as did Rufe. How strange to see Rufe’s name written as King Consort Rufe Fjell. Niam’s king consort. They’d have to determine later how this new development affected Rufe’s future dukedom. Draylon also included duke in his many titles; by all accounts, his duchy ran efficiently without its absentee leader.

So many matters to consider. All would have to wait until Niam returned home—with his sons.

His sons. He’d wasted time here, but understood the treaty as necessary to secure his kingdom. To gain official help in saving his boys. Now, Whreyn not only acted against Niam but also theempire.

Avestan signed last, handed one copy of the documents to his secretary, and gave the other to Willem. He smiled. “Now that we’ve concluded business, I understand a banquet awaits downstairs.” He waggled his brows. “And then someone needs to see to their bonding night.”

No time to contemplate the bonding night now. If given half a chance, Niam might take Rufe’s hand, dart up the stairs, and ignore anyone waiting to wish them well.

They left the office as a group, gathering before the great hall. Avestan, Draylon, and Yarif entered first to applause. Rufe gave Niam a tremulous smile, took his hand, and made their first public appearance as king and consort.

All eyes watched Niam and Rufe mount the dais at the front of the room, settling at a table with the emperor, their king, and his consort.

Niam couldn’t enjoy the banquet, the musicians playing too loudly, all the food scents blending into something unappetizing. He needed to be heading north, ready to take on Whreyn, free his boys, and ensure the safety of his mother instead of enjoying a party.

Rufe took his hand. “I long to be on the road as much as you, but sometimes court affairs are necessary for diplomacy. Trust me. Preparations are already in motion. Now, would you care to dance?”

“Not really.”

Rufe winked. “Humor me.”

Niam took Rufe’s offered hand, but instead of leading him to the area cleared for dancing, Rufe exited from a side entrance, pulling Niam along. He passed through an area where cooks stored laden trays to be taken to the guests and disappeared into a pantry.

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