Page 55 of The Moon Blessed King
‘I wouldn’t expect you to. I hardly remember my youth, and I did not spend my time in the cells.’ At this, Partho’s voice gains an edge to it. He leans back from the fire, letting his arms rest on his knees as he turns ever so slightly to face Cat properly.
‘You were my father’s closest friend,’ Cat says.
‘Yes.’
‘I killed him.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why are you here, my lord?’
‘Because I am the Steward of the Blue Palace, Stello, and when you wrote me your letter, you called for my aid. You are the Blue Palace’s master. I too am yours to command, and I have brought all the Blue Guard here to help you find your way home.’ Cat does not know how to respond. He strains for the right words: a show of thanks, a familial oath, a proclamation. Nothing comes to him. Since the day his father died, the Blue Lands have been closed, icily silent, unwilling to show any great sign of support to the crown beyond the bare minimum of duty. But here, for him, Partho has brought their standing guard. ‘I have something for you,’ Partho says.
Even crouched down as he is, his balance remains perfect on the balls of his feet. He reaches his hands to the back of his neck and fiddles with something beneath the neckline of his cuirass, pulling it free with only some resistance. Cat’s breath leaves him as he scrambles indelicately to meet Partho halfway.
Dangling from Partho’s fingers is a black cord, and from it hangs a blue stone in the shape of a crescent moon. It glows bright and perfect in the dim dark of night. Cat’s fingers wrap around the stone. Heat radiates through it, travelling through his hand, his arm, his core. He shivers at the change in temperature but does not dare let it go, cradling the pendant to his chest like the treasure it is. ‘I thought I lost it.’
‘When we learned how you died, your father asked that I do what I could to find it. And so I did,’ Partho responds. ‘The boy who threw it in the Schism was punished.’
Cat hears the echoes of the water rushing around his head as the water from Alelune’s greatest tributary into the Bask River held him down. ‘He didn’t know better.’
‘He did.’
It is not an argument worth having. It is far too late to change what happened now. ‘Thank you,’ he says at long last. It is woefully insufficient. ‘Thank you for finding it.’
‘It belongs to you and only you,’ Partho replies. ‘As do the Blue Lands…and that crown.’ He pauses then, glancing over Cat’s shoulder to peer at Elician. The Soleben king breathes deeply and has not moved while they’ve talked. ‘Your marriage…tell me, was it forced?’
He says the words as if they pain him, as if the notion of it is too uncomfortable to bear. His hand twitches back to his sword hilt. For a moment, Cat sits with that knowledge, lets it course through him. Partho isconcernedfor him. He cannot remember the last time someone, other than a Reaper, had shown such concern for him in Alelune. His mother, probably, but her concern was a nuanced, fragmented thing. Beyond her…perhaps it truly had been his father or indeed Partho himself. He wishes he could remember more of the man; he wishes he knew what else there is to recall. ‘No,’ Cat murmurs. ‘No, it was not forced.’
‘You must understand what it looks like,’ Partho continues. ‘Him, an Alelunen prisoner for over a year, his uncle murdering our queen, then returning home to gain a crown and our queen’s heir as his husband.’
‘It was my choice,’ Cat says. ‘I suggested it.’
‘To make amends?’
‘To stop this war.’
‘You needn’t share his bed for that.’
‘I wanted to…share his bed. I wanted this.’ Cat glances back atElician, then to Partho. ‘Please understand that,’ he entreats as best he can. ‘He…he makes me happy. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise.’
Captain Partho, Steward of the Blue Palace and his father’s best friend, nods only once. ‘Should that ever change,’ he swears quietly, ‘you will not be forced to continue such an alliance. You will not be trapped against your will again, Your Grace.’ The threat and promise are both utterly without compromise.
‘And should I do anything to elicit that wrath, my lord,’ Elician says, voice croaking even as his eyes crack open to peer at Partho, ‘then I thank you in advance for ensuring his well-being.’
‘Careful, Your Majesty,’ Partho growls out, temperate tone freezing over. ‘Considering you brought him here in these circumstances, your platitudes may well earn you early recompense.’ Cat shifts, helping Elician sit up properly now that there is no need for him to feign sleep. He adjusts against the solid tree trunk at his back. His eyes fall to the blue stone in Cat’s hand, lips pursing. ‘Tell me why you’re here,’ Partho demands. ‘I presume your spy informed you of the current state of our country.’
‘You knew of Cieli?’
‘Nothing happens in the Blue Lands without my knowledge,’ Partho replies. ‘Your people are loyal.’
Elician’s lips quirk at that. ‘Is that a fact?’
‘We came to help,’ Cat says, trying hard not to squirm at the fond expression on his husband’s face.
Partho shakes his head. ‘Your Grace, I will do anything I can to ensure you find your way back to your throne, but being a Reaper inthisclimate…will not be a boon. I was coming to the border to ensure you were safe…and if you were, to tell you to stay as far away from Alelune as you could, for now.’
He says it gently. Kindly, even. Like a candle in the dark, or a blanket to stave off the chill. It changes nothing about the world around them, but he offers comfort where he is able. It is only atemporary form of comfort, one that will inevitably grow stale. ‘How bad is it?’ Cat asks instead.
