Page 33 of The Sun King's Noon

Dain and Kaelen stayed by the doors, looking far more alert than Richard felt. With a sigh, Richard settled into the throne and willed his eyes not to shut. The servants had steeped the hallwith lavender oil in lieu of a proper cleaning, and it made sleep harder to resist.

A firm ally, Frostheim. The firmest Ardenia had, in truth, and the oldest, the bond predating Richard’s grandfather by generations. As a boy, Richard had studied the stories—the snow-lashed coasts, the black waters thick with monsters, the first frost-clans who carved longboats and rowed east to raid. But conquest had not remained simple, and eventually, the people they brought back had risen to overthrow and remake the realm. A joining of two heritages.

Now, Frostheim’s court observed a mix of rituals—tea ceremonies, elaborate calligraphy adorning their treaties, and ancestral shrines. Yet, they kept the longboats, the mead halls, and their ruling line, House Jeong, had married enough into the old blood that some royals bore blue eyes.

The doors slammed open. A dozen Frostheim soldiers marched in. They wore quilted black armour resembling fish scales and carried white banners. The ink strokes depicted a nykur rising from the surf—a fabled shape-shifting water-horse that lured victims to mount it before dragging them to the depths. Frostheim’s insignia.

Behind the soldiers came attendants in furred robes with sleeves past their hands. The men’s hair was long and braided back, and the women’s hair hung loose.

In front of them all, Crown Princess Seola swaggered in. She was in all white. A ribboned jacket and a high-waisted skirt that fell in a bell-like sweep to her ankles. As she turned to snap orders at the guards, her back revealed a red embroidery of a nine-tailed fox.

Richard smiled. She was as he remembered, if broader around the shoulders, as if she’d hauled the oars to cross the sea herself. Short black hair framed a pretty face fixed in a roguish grin.

“Princess Seola.” Richard descended the dais. “Frostheim’s early arrival is?—”

Seola closed the distance in three strides, seized him around the ribs, and lifted him clean off the floor. Air left Richard’s lungs in a wheeze as his boots dangled.

“Old friend!” Seola’s voice boomed. “Your eyebags have grown deeper. I had not thought that a possible thing.”

“Yes—friend—put—me—down,” Richard wheezed.

She set him on his feet and thumped his shoulders, beaming. Richard glowered at her and straightened his doublet.

“You are very early.”

“The winds were good.” Seola shrugged. “Would you have us circle the harbour until the correct hour?” She squinted at him. “You look tired.”

“I was in bed.”

“Ah.” Seola winked. “Not alone, I hope?”

“Princess.”

“Bah. You have not changed, you dreary creature.” She peered around him at the dais. “There they are! The little ones!”

Corwin jerked awake as Seola barrelled towards him. He managed half a bow before she caught him in a headlock and ruffled his hair.

“This tall you were when I left.” She gestured at her hip. “Now look at you, you handsome devil. Do the boys and girls weep?”

“The boys, mostly,” Corwin choked. “The girls throw sharp things at me instead.”

“Ha!” Seola released him and crouched in front of Briony. “And this one. Oh, by the Great Raven.”

Briony’s eyes widened. “What?”

“The dull bearing of a booklarva.” Seola sighed. “It is etched clear upon you exactly as your dour brother.” As the little girlspluttered, Seola turned to Elara. “Still angry with me, Sun Princess?”

“You bedded three of my ladies-in-waiting last time.” Elara’s grin was full of teeth. “On the same night.”

“A delightful time they had, no?”

Richard intervened before Elara could ignite something. “We have prepared quarters for your retinue, old friend. I trust you will find the chambers adequate.”

Seola snorted. “I trust you will not offer me your chamber tonight?”

“I trust you recall your marriage?”

She cackled. “Yes, yes. I only jest for old times’ sake.”