This was to say naught of Asalle’s reputation, but as they’d already spoken of its Light, Tolvar said no more. But to him, Asalle’s Light meant the security of any lone citizen walking the streets. It meant those who could not find work or had not the ability to earn their keep could be housed in one of the multiple shelters the sovereign’s great-great-grandfather had established long ago. Asalle was a capital for the people—a haven where those of the Capella Realm felt protected and cared for by their sovereign. Tolvar’s father had erected a shelter in Thorindale to mimic the sovereign’s system of care for his people. People taken care of were people who took care of others.
Tolvar had made this seven-day trip from Thorin Court to Asalle many times in his life, and he enjoyed Hux’s words being knocked from him as they rode deeper into the city.
“Your sovereign certainly makes a show,” Hux finally said, his head swiveling.
“Aye.” Tolvar almost smiled. “That is an understatement."
If Tolvar had beena man who wagered, which he wasn’t, he could have won a great deal of coin on how swiftly King Rian’s entourage greeted them when they entered Castle Sidra’s outer bailey.
Tolvar was ushered into the castle's inner keep; the others were escorted to where the sovereign’s higher retainers were served.
Chancellor Griffith, shorter than Tolvar remembered, guided him through the snake of corridors and stuttered awkward compliments about the Wolf as they walked. Tolvar had half a mind to rat him out to King Rian but chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. It’d been years since he’d seen the chancellor, and mayhap with other guests, he was the pinnacle of prestige. Forbearance. He’d promised himself forbearance.
He was surprised when, instead of Chancellor Griffith escorting him to the throne room, they entered the Royal Solar. King Rian paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Obviously taken by surprise when the doors opened, the sovereign regally transformed his posture, standing straight as a scepter. He was a tall man, not as tall as Tolvar—few were—with a broad nose and an angular, squared chin. Despite ruling an empire, his eyes were not permanently hardened, although Tolvar had certainly witnessed them at their most brutal. At this moment, they appeared overly concerned. One did not become the Wolf by missing minor details.
“Your Majesty.” Tolvar bowed as the chancellor scurried from the room, shutting the double doors behind him.
“The hero of the hour,” King Rian said, his arms raised. “Back in the Capella Realm where you belong.”
Tolvar was not one for kowtowing. “Which I ne’er would have left if not for Your Majesty’s—suggestion.”
King Rian sighed. “This is why I knew to greet you in private, so you could get out all your grousing.” He wagged a finger. “You’re fortunate that I forgave you and lifted your banishment.”
Tolvar snorted. “I would have enjoyed your explanation to the realm as to why your most famed knight is still banned after defeating an abominable force of death and saving an entire kingdom!” His voice rose as he finished.
The two locked themselves in a staring match. So much of King Rian reminded Tolvar of his father. His firm frown, his obstinate need for being right. The love he had for his family. Tolvar’s fatherhad been King Rian’s most trusted confidant. ’Twas the reason Tolvar had been bestowed the honor of being betrothed to King Rian’s cousin years ago.
It occurred to him that they both mourned. King Rian’s declaration of banishment four years ago had been one of grief. Mayhap one made in haste and swiftly regretted. But as sovereign, King Rian would have faced difficulty reneging his declaration. Tolvar’s quest was the means needed to justify the end of the banishment.
If Tolvar had only known how much the quest would change him. How it served to put an end to so much self-loathing.
“My apologies, Your Majesty. Glad I am to be welcomed home and, more importantly, to be Your Majesty’s guest.”
King Rian softened his regard. “You’ll never hear a sovereign apologize, Tolvar, but if you did, you would understand that some decrees are happily broken.”
Tolvar nodded.
“I have already heard a barrage of tales about Sloane the Unsung and her defeat of the Befallen, but I would hear it all from your mouth. Especially as I hear that some of the tale concerns the Curse of Adrienne and your brother? Have I heard correctly?” Both men flinched at the word “Adrienne,” but sovereigns did not flit around words, even cursed ones.
Tolvar knew these questions were coming but hadn’t expected them in the first five minutes of his audience with King Rian.
“Aye, Your Majesty. You’ve heard correctly.”
“Pray, sit.” The sovereign sat and gestured for Tolvar to do the same.
Tolvar had reached the part of the story where, on the battlefield, the leader of the villainous Brones had been revealed to be Crevan when the doors opened.
“Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty. You have ten minutes.”
King Rian nodded as the chancellor closed the doors.
“Stars almighty. That is quite the tale. I’m afraid the ending will have to wait until this evening.” They both stood.
“The rest, I’m certain, you’ve already heard,” Tolvar said. “Iassume you have a myriad of loathsome festivities planned in which you intend to parade the Wolf around.”
King Rian widened his stance. “I must be allowed to show off when I can. I hold court in one hour’s time. You’ll be presented there and meet with me for the first time.” King Rian winked and left the room.
Thisaudience was not common knowledge then. The sovereign had been careful to test out his welcome with the Wolf first.