Page 57 of Boundless
"Sir Fenris, I kn-knight you in service to the realm, as protector of both m-my royal family and the s-sanctity of the treaty that brings our people in union with our former enemies and current a-allies, the Istarii Drakan." The two elves watched each other, grim, eyes weighted with whatever it was they were doing here in the dead of night. "D-do you accept this responsibility?"
Fenris bowed his dark head briefly, his fist over his heart and his eyes blazing into Len's when he lifted his chin and replied, "I do. I...I am honored, my prince. What will you have me do?"
Len's shoulders relaxed a fraction and he rejoined her on the bed. "For now, n-nothing. Would you be c-comfortable returning to Llyvelli, though? P-perhaps in a week or two?"
Fenris blinked. "You would give me a choice?"
Len nodded, and Fenris swore, shaking his head in disbelief.
Daega chuckled, somehow understanding, and leaned over to press a kiss to Len's smooth, pale cheek. "I know, he's so saccharine it’s disgusting, isn't it? But he really does care, lad. You can say no and it'll be no hard feelings."
Fenris cocked an eyebrow. "Even for you?"
She shrugged. "Aye. It may take a little time, but I'll manage to get over it. I'd like to know what limey bastard wants to hurt my dears and destroy the peace my kin have given so much to bring, but there's bound to be other ways to get it. It will be harder for them to strike at us tucked away like this at the heart of the horde. Assuming it was the elves and not a third party." That made her pause and consider. "Couldit be someone else, love? A neighbor who found our tussles useful or profitable?"
Len's brow was already wrinkled in thought when she glanced over, his full lips tugged down in a frown. "Not that I can th-think of...but it's always possible. The weapons Kesterin produces for us would likely just go elsewhere, probably south to B-Ba'Thell or Sabbarath. And Aggo benefits from less risky inland t-travel. But I could be missing information." He shook his head, his green gaze fixed somewhere far off. “I think it most l-likely that it’s coming from us. F-from the elvish court.”
Fenris nodded, looking nervous but determination gleamed in his dark eyes. "The Court has long spun stories of the superiority of the elves, my prince," he said, though with surprising gentleness for the man. Her uncle was his usual silent self, keeping quiet and taking everything in. "I can imagine well a scenario in which they feel compelled to accept an offering of peace because they do not want to seem less magnanimous, all while intending to force the other side to renege on the terms as soon as they can in the quest to prove their strength. To prove they are better." His pale face flushed, his eyes darting around the tent uncomfortably. “Up until recently I listened to them. They can be very…persuasive. Compelling.”
Silence fell, the only sounds in the tent the varied rhythms of their breathing.
Len sighed loudly, startling the rest of them. "Fuck," he spat, burying his face in his hands. "My father reallyistrying t-to kill me."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Betrayal of Kings
LEN
HE’D SUSPECTEDit for some time now that his father wanted him dead, but he was still having a difficult time reckoning with it proving true. It was meant to be a paranoid suspicion, something he thought because he was so prone to nerves and catastrophizing—not for it to bereal.
But it seemed more and more like it was, and when he thought about it, Len realized his father might be using this as an opportunity to restart his line of succession. Haedelon would find a new wife and produce new heirs who wouldn't disappoint him at every turn.
The king had never been shy about how he'd wished that Len had been different: that he'd been stronger, smarter, had different interests, clearer speech, calmer emotions. Once, drunk on goldenwine after a summer ball, Haedelon had even told his son that he sometimes wished that they hadn't been able to save him when he got sick, that his weak heart had killed him then. Len was fairly certain his father didn't remember that conversation or most of the rest of that night, but it was seared into Len's memory, and any time Haedelon's criticisms bit a little harder it rolled around in his skull, uprooting his sense of self and making him feel especially low about himself.
This was all, of course, before he'd wed Daega. Now it was becoming clear that Haedelon was never the family he'd been meant for, that if the elf king didn't see his worth then it wasn't because Lenlethael Felthenethor was lacking, it was becauseHaedelonFelthenethor was blind. Everyone in this tent and many of the people beyond it saw his value—slim, stunted frame and incurable stammer and all—and it shouldn't still hurt that his father saw him as refuse.
But of course, it did.
Daega's hand was warm and soothing on his back, her voice fire and fury as she struggled to keep literal venom from her tongue. "I've said it before and I'll say it again—I'm going tokillthat fucking elf. Your father is one of the biggest bastards I've ever had the misfortune to meet and if I ever lock eyes on him again he will not live to see anything else but my face—"
"Please, Dae, it's alright. In a w-way...I saw this coming."
"You see, you think that helps, love, but it actually makes the situation quite a lot worse for your father—"
"Daega, niece, please...find some calm. If not for yourself, then for the babe you carry," his wife's uncle said from his seat on his pouf, still close beside Fenris. He hadn't formally met Kevothaen’s younger brother yet, but he seemed nice enough—and it was amusing that a flair for the dramatic clearly ran in that family. Though Daega’s uncle was smaller than any of the Istarii Drakan men he'd met thus far, he was still plenty large, his face heavily scarred on one side and the eye and most of a horn missing on that same side, broken off near the sensitive base.
Len smiled in thanks. "I-it's good to meet more of the f-family. In the ch-chaos I don't believe I caught your f-full name..."
"Ravost, nephew," he said, inclining his gray head. He wore his hair shorter than most Istariin, only about as long as Len’s, but still the pin-straight tresses common to their people. "I apologize for my earlier rudeness. I had hoped to meet the elf responsible for bringing an end to war under better circumstances but, well—Fenris made some bold choices tonight, aye?"
Fenris blushed—actuallyblushed—and crossed his arms, but had to fight off a smile.
"You'd better be fixing my door, Ravs," Daega groused, shimmying further back onto the bed and propping herself up onto her mountain of pillows. Her lovely face looked drawn, her under eyes heavy and lined with fatigue. She was getting tired so easily these days, and if it weren’t for the seriousness of their conversation he'd shoo out their visitors right that minute. "Kind ofneedthat. Especially if there's a conspiracy brewing."
"If I'm not to be executed for my crimes, then I'll be happy to stand guard," Fenris offered, still a little tense despite being knighted and assured his life was safe—so long as he didn't enact any further deception.
"But you'll have to sleep sometime," Daega argued, arching an eyebrow. "And do you really want to be able to hear me and the prince fucking at all hours?"
