Page 136 of The Sun King's Noon

“There is also, Mother,” he said quietly, “the matter—the matter of bodily desire. I have never had it. For anyone. I wish for Kaelen to belong to me. I wish to belong to him. But the rest that other men want. The rest that he shall doubtless want—” His voice cracked, and he paused to recover his composure. “I cannot give such things. And it does not feel fair to ask him to commit to only half a portion when he might have a full one with someone else.”

For an instant, Aralynn’s eyes looked terribly sad. She squeezed his cheek. “There needs only to be love, understanding, and the willingness to make of it what suits both of you. Whatever shape your love takes, it shall be enough.”

“But—”

“My son is not a bargain to be struck in flesh,” she said sharply. “He does not beg for scraps at a table, for he is a person, a full person, to be loved entirely.” She tiptoed to gently thud their foreheads together. “All will go well tonight. I promise you.”

Richard’s throat ached, but he managed a nod. Aralynn released him with a reassuring smile, and as she turned to go, the mirror’s surface shimmered. It warped into a milky white, once more becoming a door.

Richard reared back with a gasp, almost tripping over a stray belt. “Mother?—”

But she was already gone. And the mirror, when he glanced at it, was glass again, reflecting only his pale, startled face.

CHAPTER 50

The Great Hall blazed with music and motion. Garlands of roses and sunflowers wreathed the ceiling, and the musicians played splendidly.

Richard tried very hard to look as if he were enjoying himself, though he had not been granted a moment’s peace. Noble after noble had requested his hand for a dance, and he’d had no choice but to accept. Through the numerous waltzes, he saw with some amusement that Corwin had danced only with Dianara, turning the colour of a boiled lobster every time the Chief Mage’s hand cupped his waist. Elara was on the floor too, twirling Penelope around and wearing the look of a cat who had been handed a bowl of cream.

At the dais, Haldric and Aralynn beamed when Elara dipped Penelope into a deep kiss. The hall thundered with cheers.

Richard did not clap. Unease prickled the back of his neck. Penelope. This sweet young lady clearly besotted with his sister was—Richard was certain—no friend of Ardenia. But the‘why’refused to take form. Marius. Penelope’s father. There was something to do with Marius. Something about?—

The music swelled, and Richard was swept into another dance—this time by Duke Quiggley, who simpered and made small talk. Bored, Richard searched for Kaelen.

He found the knight at the far end of the Great Hall, where the generals had drawn up a cluster of chairs around a decanter of brandy. Kaelen was in the midst of them, a boot hooked on the chair’s rail, his head tipped back in a laugh.

By the gods, was he a vision. The sun pendant gleamed at his neck. He had a glass in one hand, and he was using the other to gesture broadly—telling some story, no doubt—and the generals were roaring with laughter. Sir Joffrey was there too. He ruffled Kaelen’s hair with a thick hand and pinched Kaelen’s ear when the young knight batted him away.

Somehow aware of Richard’s stare, Kaelen turned. He took in the sight of Lord Quiggley nosing at Richard’s collar, and the line of his mouth went flat and unhappy.

Oh, he minds,sang a giddy voice in Richard’s mind.Look. He minds.

That was a good sign, surely.

After the next dance, Kaelen was nowhere to be seen, and Richard fled the hall. It was not, he reflected as he slipped through the side door, an especially princely thing to do. But the hallway beyond was cooler and quieter, the music having dulled to a muffled thrum through the stone. Richard pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, and set off in the direction of the eastern stair. Perhaps Kaelen lingered there?—

Footsteps came from further down the corridor.

“—the prince cannot have vanished. The point of this ball is to?—”

“—saw him not a quarter of an hour past, by the dais?—”

Richard spun on his heel and turned the corner briskly, only to hear, with a sinking horror, the unmistakable bray of Duke Quiggley’s voice.

“—the prince does this every year, but I shall find him this time, for I have already decided to grant him my undying affection?—”

He was bracketed in. The two corridors bore two oncoming tides of courtly pursuers, with nothing between them but a small servants’ door?—

A hand shot out of that door, closed about his wrist and yanked. Richard had no time to register what was happening before he was inside what appeared to be a broom closet, the door at his back, and a finger pressed against his mouth.

“Shh.”

Richard stilled. Enough light seeped in under the door to illuminate the dusty shelves of linen, the moths fluttering overhead, and?—

Kaelen.

The knight was flushed from drink, his tunic’s laces undone, revealing his collarbones. Kaelen withdrew his finger, eyes bright, hair tousled where Sir Joffrey’s hand had been.