Page 95 of The Concubine King
“Are you?”Mikel asked seriously.
“Stop saying that!”he burst out.“How can you say that?Deny me who I am, after telling me I’m not who I always thought I was?!”
“You can be whoever you want, Ethyr!”Mikel told him harshly.“Butthis?Is this really who you want to be?”
Ethyr stared at him, agape, speechless in the face of such an insult.Mikel looked back with open, raw honesty, but not an ounce of regret.Ethyr shoved past him to leave, and when Mikel did and said nothing to stop him, it compounded the hurt.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When Ethyr tried to find Mikel the next morning, he was already gone.Only one guard had any knowledge about it.They had seen him leaving shortly after his tunic was returned.Poyut sent guards into the city to find him, but to no avail.Not only had Ethyr run off his only friend, but Mikel had left before Ethyr could make up for any of the sacrifices he had made to come all this way.He didn’t know whether he was angry at himself or at Mikel.
He hadn’t done anything wrong.How could Mikel be upset that he wanted to be with him after being apart for so long?Ethyrshould have been the one upset that Mikel didn’t.Clearly he didn’t love him like he used to.He could have told Ethyr that instead of fleeing like a coward.It was a meaningless solace that Ethyr knew, deep down, was baseless and empty.And yet, it felt better to cling to empty reassurance than confront a painful truth.
The absence of Mikel’s company, however brief he’d had it, made the palace feel as big and empty as when Ethyr had first arrived.When Poyut wasn’t actively guarding him, she was busy with her duties as steward.Gionan rarely pestered him anymore, and everyone else was too nervous or too formal around him to be worth much in company.
He hadn’t seen Lyrian,reallyseen him and spoken to him, since before the council meeting.So Ethyr found himself knocking on the study door.
An unfamiliar face opened it.Ethyr blinked in surprise, not even vaguely recognizing the woman before him.He had been there long enough that he knew all the faces in the palace and most officials.She was dressed in the silk tunic and sandals that were typical capital fashion, but her bronze skin marked her as a far southerner.
“Who are you?”Ethyr asked.
The woman stepped aside, opening the door further to show Lyrian hurrying to stand from his desk.
“Your Divinity,” he greeted warmly.“My apologies, I would have gotten the door myself if I’d known it was you.”
“It’s… okay.”Ethyr stepped inside, still eying the stranger.
Lyrian gestured to her.“Your Divinity, this is Jessif, an old friend and one of my captains stationed in the city of Burgus.”Ethyr glanced reflexively at the carved map table, as though he could see any of the words from the doorway.“Southeast of here,” Lyrian graciously told him.“Near the coast.”
“Isn’t that far?”
“Quite far, Your Divinity,” Jessif said solemnly.Her voice was heavy but quiet, with a tinge of accent Ethyr had only heard from a merchant in Mahyria.“I believe as far from here as your own village.Though it may feel farther because we do not have the benefit of river travel to easily reach the capital.”
“Why have you come all this way?”
“Not for anything you need to worry about, Your Divinity,” Lyrian butt in.“Just some unrest in the southern territories.We’ll talk more on it later.”He directed the last sentence to Jessif, who gave him a nod, bowed to Ethyr, and walked out.
“I had an old friend visit from far away too,” Ethyr said as he watched Jessif leave.
“Oh, yes, I heard about that.Sounds like it was quite a reunion.”
“I wanted you to meet him but… he left rather abruptly yesterday.”
“That’s unfortunate, I would have liked to meet him, too.”
Ethyr looked at Lyrian again, standing tall in the middle of the study like Yorith used to.Well, except he had quite a bit more height and width than the withered old priest.Having seen Mikel again, he realized Lyrian didn’t look so much like him.His hair was darker blond without the same tinge of red, his freckles less prominent and more concentrated over his nose, his jaw more square.And yet, still, Ethyr’s heart ached.
He pulled his eyes from Lyrian and wandered to the table, brushing his fingers over the grooves chiseled into it.The border of mountains, stretching from the top of the continent and cascading down the western edge, petered off as it followed the Mahyria River to the capital.Ethyr shifted his fingers to the river, tracing it to the coastline.“Are you still very busy?”
“Less so, Your Divinity.I’m sorry I haven’t made time for you.”
He looked up in surprise.Lyrian was watching him.He curled his fingers and lifted his hand from the table, tucking it self-consciously behind his back.“What do you mean?”
“We should be meeting at least every week, so I can tell you what’s been happening.”
“Yorith never did that.”
Lyrian gave a slanted smile.“Yorith rarely did anything he was supposed to.”
