Page 67 of The Concubine King
“Leave us,” Lyrian ordered.
Ethyr’s eyes darted between Lyrian and the attendants.They looked just as taken aback, but after a few seconds of surprise, they dipped low again and slipped out of the room, Gionan casting Ethyr an unreadable glance.
Ethyr gawked.“How did you do that?”The attendants had always been inescapable.Nothing he said or did got them off his tail.
Lyrian looked over, calmly tweaking the fingers of his leather gloves one at a time until he slipped them off.“Do what?”Under that unyielding brown gaze, Ethyr found himself feeling inferior.He tried not to shrink.
“Get them to leave,” he murmured.
Lyrian’s lips quirked, and Ethyr was reminded again of how similar the man looked to Mikel.How many smirks had Mikel directed at him over the years?Too many to count.He was glad Lyrian could not hear how fiercely his heart beat against his chest.
“It’s about confidence, Your Divinity,” he said.“If you give orders with the unwavering belief that they will be followed, those beneath you will have no choice.”
“I don’t know that I can do that,” Ethyr sighed.
“Of course you can.”Lyrian tucked the gloves into his leather belt.“Yorith has done quite a number on you, hasn’t he?Where’s that feisty boy who marched into my office weeks ago?”
Ethyr's cheeks prickled with heat that he hoped wasn’t visible.
“That’s your problem, Your Divinity,” Lyrian continued.“You are too focused on fighting back against Yorith, when you should be gaining the respect and obedience of those below you.You actually have a chance of getting them on your side.”
“I don’t belong here,” Ethyr reminded him.“Everyone knows that.”
“No.Everyone thinks that because you think it.You do belong here, Your Divinity; you were placed here by the gods and that gives you more of a right to be here than anyone else.”
The words, spoken so surely, bloomed in his chest.
“You’re the king, Ethyr,” Lyrian continued forcefully.“Everyone in the palace is here to serve you, not the other way around.Don’t forget that.”He looked like he was waiting for a response, but he had stopped Ethyr’s words on his tongue.Lyrian made it sound so easy, but he could not dream of being as confident and elegant as that.
He shook his head with a sudden start.“Wait—why—how—are you here?”
“Yorith is on the other side of the city for business.It’s given me the opportunity to speak to you without his interference.”Lyrian pulled a small, rolled paper from his pocket and held it out.Ethyr took it and opened it to one word: Sabatus.He looked back up in confusion.Lyrian plucked it from his hand and went to a lantern on the wall, setting its edge alight.He watched the flame eat across the paper until it was mostly ash, then dropped it and stomped it out.
He turned back to Ethyr’s bewilderment.“That is one of the guards here,” he told him.“He is loyal to me.If you get a message to him, he will get it to me.Nothing written.If Yorith finds out, he’ll be expunged from the palace, so you must not let it be discovered.”
“W-why?”Ethyr didn’t even know what kind of message he would send Lyrian.
“Yorith is planning something malicious, I just don’t know what yet.I’ll do everything I can to protect you, but I’ll need your cooperation.If you hear anything, or notice anything suspicious, let me know.”
“I will,” Ethyr said, more confidently.It was nice to have someone on his side, especially someone with Lyrian’s status and influence.He couldn’t let that slip away.It gave him renewed hope that he could gain a semblance of independence, when he had almost given up on any chance of that.“Thank you.”
Lyrian offered a smile that tempered his fierce gaze to a comforting gentleness.“Of course, Your Divinity.I hope you take my words to heart.I know you have a fire inside of you, you just need to let it out.”He bowed, then strode out of the room.
Ethyr was still standing there when Gionan came back inside.
“What did Master Lyrian want to speak to you about?”he asked lightly.
“King stuff,” Ethyr said.He looked up from where his gaze had fixed onto the floor.“I’m done eating.Call the carriage to take me to the temple.”
Gionan dipped his head hesitantly.“I will do so, Your Divinity.”
They weren’t ready for the storm after all.The first crack of thunder made Dessin jump out of his slippers and the onslaught of rain hitting the roof turned his face up.
“There hasn’t been a thunderstorm here for years,” he marveled.
“Can I—” Ethyr stopped himself.He thought for a second, then stood from his desk.“I’m going outside to see.”He started out before Dessin could stop him.
“What?Wait—Your Divinity—” Dessin scrambled after him and as he strode past Poyut, she met his determined glance with confusion and followed too.
