Page 50 of The Sun King's Noon

“Blasted thing.” Dain tugged the fabric at his stomach. He sucked in his gut, held it and released it with a disgusted huff.“There was a time, lad, when this belly was as hard as reinforced steel. Your father used to make me lift my shirt at taverns to charm the barmaids into giving us free drinks.”

Richard smiled. “How silly.”

“Well.” Dain snorted. “Young things, we were. All four of us. Thought we could outfight anything the world threw at us. All manner of misadventure your father dragged me into, and Selwyn would glower, and Aralynn would call us fools.” He chuckled. “But those ladies landed their fair share of trouble. Twenty-four, they were, when they entered the Sylari Realm to find a dun cow. Its milk’s said to heal any ailment. Haldric and I raced after—found them three miles past the southern border, kidnapped by a Baba Yaga.”

“A Baba Yaga?” Richard had read of such a creature. Most stories reported her as an old witch, but in truth she was an ancient being of nature—a wild, primaeval crone who ruled life and death, luring children into her hut. “You and Father rescued them?”

Dain rubbed his nape. “Ah. Well. Already had matters under control, our ladies did. Tricked the crone into her own oven and roasted her to death. Quite unimpressed, they were, when your father and I charged in with our battle cries.”

Richard chuckled, but his smile slid off on catching sight of Kaelen at the base of the stairs. The man’s dark blond hair was combed to the side, and his tunic of midnight blue clung to his broad chest. As he laughed, one hand gesturing wildly, Richard’s heart pounded?—

then lurched as he saw who Kaelen spoke to. Ravi was hugging Kaelen’s arm and chatting merrily. He wore a high-collared gold tunic, fitted perfectly to his slender frame. A fresh stroke of red marked the centre of his brow, and black paint lined his eyes.

“Dain,” Richard said quietly. “Would you say—is there a chance—” He faltered, heat climbing his neck. “Might a man find me more...that is to say, between myself and King Vikram’s nephew, do you think a man could find me of…greater beauty?”

Dain squinted down at the pair below, then at Richard, then back again. He spluttered, “Since when have you cared for your looks, lad?”

Richard wondered if he should hurl himself from the balcony. “Never mind?—”

“Well, since you’ve mentioned it.” Dain stroked his moustache, studying Ravi. “The boy is much younger. And by the gods—” He shook his head. “Is there a man more beautiful in all the Seven Realms? I think not. The face on him. The hair?—”

“Thank you, Dain,” Richard muttered.

“—could weave a rope from those locks. And those eyes! Like a doe’s, they are?—”

“Yes, Dain. Thank you. Your point is noted.”

“You did ask, lad.” Dain bellowed down the stairs. “Hey! Son!”

Half the hall turned. Kaelen’s head snapped up towards the staircase, gaze landing straight on Richard. Kaelen’s smile vanished. His spine went rigid, shoulders drawing back, and his hands curled into fists.

Hollowness gnawed at Richard from the inside. Kaelen hated him. Whatever bond existed between them, Richard had clearly shattered it in that hallway, for now, Kaelen’s entire body was wound tight, the tendons in his neck standing taut, and a fierce intensity edged his stare, as though he was barely restraining himself from lunging.

Kaelen climbed the stairs, Ravi keeping pace beside him. Once near, Kaelen bowed stiffly.

“Your Majesty.” On turning to Dain, Kaelen’s face softened. “Father. You look distinguished.”

Dain harrumphed. “Distinguished is a word for old men. Say handsome. Say dashing.”

“Very well. You look adequately groomed for a man of your age and expanding girth.” Kaelen dodged the clout to his ear with a grin.

Dain gestured at Ravi. “And I see you’ve a vision on your arm, eh? By the gods, son, you are punching above your station.”

Kaelen’s ears went pink. “Father, this is Ravi. My new friend.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Commander.” Ravi smiled at Dain and ascended the last step to stand before Richard. Up close, he was even prettier—fine-boned, long lashes. He pressed his palms together and bowed.

“Your Majesty. I am Ravi Singam, the eldest nephew of King Vikram.” He straightened, dark eyes earnest. “I must thank you, Your Majesty. For your invitation, your kindness, this castle, this ball, all of it—” He hesitated. “My uncle said the western kingdoms would be cold and grey, but this is…beautiful. And everyone has been most kind. Especially—” His gaze flickered to Kaelen. “Especially your knight. He has made me feel most welcome when I have felt so far from the people I love.”

Shame prickled, and Richard stifled a sigh. This was who he had resented? A homesick boy, who smiled so sincerely?

“Ravi,” Richard said warmly. “Your performance at the procession was among the finest displays of skill I have ever witnessed. You are welcome in High Ardenia for as long as you wish to stay. Now, go on.” He nodded towards the hall. “The first dance will soon be called.”

“You are most kind, Your Majesty.” Ravi reached again for Kaelen’s arm. “Come, then, big man.”

Kaelen bowed once more, avoiding Richard’s eyes. “Your Majesty.”

The two of them descended into the candlelit hall. Richard watched them go, biting the inside of his cheek. They made a fine pair indeed.