Page 38 of The Night Prince 2

“Such fights are cleaner on the battlefield. In this case, words will be the weapons,” Declan agreed. “You will cause people to bleed, but the wounds will be hidden and perhaps nursed for later revenge.”

“Yes.” He smiled softly. “You do not speak much, but when you do, Declan, you show a wisdom that few do who are thousands of years older than yourself.”

Declan said nothing. He just accepted the observation. Whether he agreed with it or not, Aquilan did not know. Again, Declan acted instead of spoke. The young man reached for the books he carried, but Aquilan caught his hand lightly.

“You do not need to carry these for me. In truth, I should take the ones you have,” Aquilan said.

Declan was silent for a moment, not reaching for his books, but not moving his hand back either. As if each word were a struggle, he said, “But I… I wish to carry them.”

Aquilan blinked. He actually felt the burn of what might have been tears behind his eyes. He wasn’t sure why. Many people wanted to take care of him because of what he was: the Sun King. But Declan seemed to not notice his position at all. He found himself releasing Declan’s hand. The young man gently took the books from him.

“In truth, if we were anywhere but Tyrael and the palace grounds, I would want my hands free,” Declan said in that quiet, deliberate way of his.

“Because you are afraid of being attacked by the Leviathan?” Aquilan’s heart twisted as he remembered that poor, broken-tipped kitchen knife from the day before that Declan had clutched onto so very hard.

“No,” Declan said with a faint frown, “I worry that they would attack you. I would need my hands free to keep you safe. Even a moment’s hesitation–to drop the books–might give them the opportunity to reach you.”

Aquilan’s lips parted. He was deeply touched by Declan’s statement. Many would say such a thing to impress their king, but he knew that Declan would have said this if Aquilan had no rank whatsoever and was a beggar in the street.

“But we are safe enough here,” Declan continued as he adjusted the books so that he carried a few under one arm and a few under the other. “For now at least.”

Aquilan could have said that he was quite capable of defending them both. That it was his duty to defend them both. That a human–no matter how skilled–could not do more against the Leviathan–or any foe–than him. But he didn’t. Not only would it have insulted Declan unnecessarily, Aquilan sensed that it was not altogether true. Declan had power. There was simply something about him that spoke of a warrior.

“Thank you, Declan,” he said simply. “I am honored that you would protect me.”

“I know how that sounds. A human protecting the Sun King,” Declan said quietly, “but I swear to you that I… that I would let nothing happen to you.”

“Just like you did with Finley and Gemma?” Aquilan asked, wondering what horrors the three of them had gone through to survive that night while waiting for him and the Protectors to arrive.

A simple nod. Not that he was expecting an explanation. Declan wasn’t chatty as he had noted before, but what happened during the beginning of the war was clearly still raw and bleeding for his Shadow. He would let it be. Perhaps someday, Declan would honor him with the tale.

The two of them began to drift down the avenue of flowers towards the front doors. Pools of color–pinks, yellows, oranges, purples and reds–flowed out from the avenue of white stone. The sweet, delicious scent of them filled his nostrils. The low drone of bees could be heard over the wind. He caught sight of many of the big-bodied, soft bumble bees as they flew from one flower to the next, collecting pollen for their hives. He noted that Declan would glance out at the flowers and then quickly look back towards the white stone road as if the colors were blinding.

“What is Efenalune like?” Declan suddenly asked.

“It is…” Aquilan searched for a kind description of the rather abundanza palace, “very… ah… filled with… uhm… history.”

He saw Declan’s right eyebrow lift over the top of his sunglasses.

Aquilan let out a laugh. “All right, all right, it is gaudy and filled with junk.”

“Junk?”

“I shouldn’t say junk. But the Sun King and Queen who built it–King Sontar and Queen Eroan–were very fond of commemorating all of the Aravae’s alleged triumphs even if they were not all that triumphant. There is no wall without an etching of some battle or another. And most of it is gilded with gold,” Aquilan admitted. “Lots of gold.”

Declan nodded. “And Kyrion? What do you like about it?”

“I think you described it rather well earlier. Kyrion is simple, pure white stone with clean walls and graceful domes and arches. Not a touch of gilt to be found. But one can tell that it has been diminished in some way. There is a sense that it is a shell of what it once was. A ruin really. No Sun King or Queen has lived there since Ailduin’s time.”

“Did you consider making your home there?” Declan asked as they reached the broad, graceful steps that led up to the front doors of the palace.

Two Protectors immediately crossed their arms over their chests and bowed low to Aquilan. He waved a hand to indicate that they could relax. The doors were already being opened by staff inside as they walked up the steps.

“I did,” Aquilan admitted. “But it felt like disturbing a tomb. And that felt wrong. But I intend to make sure that the palace is preserved and, perhaps, in time, it may not feel like a violation to live there for at least some part of the year.”

Declan went still again beside him and Aquilan quickly looked over at his Shadow to see what the matter was. Declan’s lips were open in almost distress and that distress became clearer with his words.

“So you will… will leave Earth?” Declan got out.

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