SHEY THRUDESH-VO
FOURTEEN
Shey couldn’t keep the frown from his lips as he marched into the palace through a secret entrance.
He would have preferred to bring Tyche in through the more glamorous main entrance with the grand staircase and elegant halls with the three-story ceilings and the sparkling crystal chandeliers glittering in the light, but dangerous assassins were lurking in the city, so they couldn’t take the chance of Shey being out in the open longer than necessary.
That meant secret hidden entrances and heavy security.
Who cared that he might be trying to impress a god with the wealth of his kingdom and the general grandeur of his long ancestry? If he thought about it, he’d realize it was laughable, but how else was he supposed to impress Tyche?
As they exited the main tunnel, one corner of Shey’s mouth rose to see Luca standing in the doorway, a tablet and a stack of papers tucked into one arm.
He was a tall, slender man in a perfectly tailored suit with thinning brown hair that he’d styled into a precise swoop to hide his growing bald spot.
Luca might be annoyingly fastidious, but he was an excellent assistant while Shey was in the palace.
He just didn’t do as well traveling. The poor man got every kind of motion sickness imaginable; all biting and stinging bugs were drawn to him as if he were made of sugar; and he had zero stamina, finding himself exhausted after walking a mile.
In short, he couldn’t keep up, so they’d agreed Luca would be Shey’s eyes and ears in the palace.
“Welcome home, Your Highness,” Luca greeted in mellow tones, falling into step with Shey so he and Tyche didn’t have to stop walking.
“Thank you, Luca. Where’s my mother?”
“She—” He stumbled for a second, as if his gaze had tripped on Tyche before jerking back to the prince. “She’s in her study awaiting your arrival.”
“Luca, this is Tyche. Tyche, this is my personal assistant, Luca Warner. He manages my affairs in the palace and keeps me abreast of things for meetings with diplomats and generals.” Shey looked over his shoulder at Tyche to see the god staring at the taller man with narrowed eyes, as if he were debating whether it was worth it to give him a burst of bad luck.
Luca nodded in Tyche’s direction with only a small wrinkle on his brow, as if he were trying to figure out how Tyche fit into the hierarchy of people in Shey’s life. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tyche.”
“How long have you worked for the prince?” Shey had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from grinning like an idiot.
There was no missing the hostile tone that infused that question.
He was beginning to think that maybe Tyche had a jealous, possessive streak, and it was coming out more prominently now that they’d kissed.
Luca made the mistake of tipping his head up and puffing out his chest. “I have been Prince Shey’s personal assistant for five years now. I feel that His Highness and I have grown quite close during our time together, enabling me to anticipate all his needs.”
He’d barely finished speaking when Luca tripped, stumbled, and almost caught himself, tripped again, and landed flat on his face. The tablet and papers slid out, spreading almost fanlike across the thick midnight-blue carpet.
“Oh, my goodness! Your Highness! I’m so sorry! I can’t believe…I’ve never…” Luca stammered as he climbed to his knees and gathered up the papers.
Shey turned to glare at Tyche, who gasped and pressed both of his hands to his chest. “I didn’t do that.”
Shey lifted an eyebrow in deep doubt.
“Seriously! I didn’t. I thought about it. But I didn’t actually do it.”
“No! No! Mr. Tyche isn’t at fault. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking and tripped.
Please forgive me.” At Luca’s words, Tyche’s expression grew smugger and more angelic, but Shey wasn’t buying it.
Maybe Luca was distracted. The man was clumsy.
It was just poor timing that he’d been unknowingly provoking the God of Luck, who was spending too much time with a possessive dragon who delighted in giving him wicked ideas.
“Behave yourself,” Shey growled before kneeling to help Luca pick up the scattered pieces of paper.
He handed them to Luca, and they stood at the same time.
“Luca, could you take Tyche to one of the guest rooms so he can get some rest and clean up from his journey? Also, see to it that he gets something to eat. I’ll go see Mother first. We can catch up afterward. ”
“No.”
Both Shey and Luca stared, dumbfounded, at Tyche. The little devil never lost his grin.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no. I’m going with you to meet with Queen Noemi.
” Tyche took a step closer, tilting his head up so that he was teasing Shey with those pouty lips.
“You will not tuck me away in some fancy room while you run off to save the world. I might not be all that handy with a sword or a gun, but you need me.”
Shey lifted a hand and gently grasped Tyche’s narrow jaw.
“Yes, I do need you.” He ran his thumb along Tyche’s cheek, marveling at the determined glitter in his bright-green eyes.
After a lifetime of being surrounded by shades of blue, he’d never realized that green had become his favorite color.
“You won’t let me keep you safe, will you? ”
Those precious eyes softened. “I’ve lived a very, very long time without your protection. I think I can manage without it a bit longer.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t have me dragging you into danger either.”
Tyche shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. Now, let’s go see Mommy.”
“Sadist.” Shey might have muttered it, but Tyche still heard him and cackled. He released Tyche’s jaw before he gave in to temptation to kiss the breath out of him. “Luca, let’s meet in my study after my chat with my mother.”
After snagging Tyche’s hand, he pulled the giggling god through the long halls. All thoughts of showing off the elegance of the palace were long gone. His primary concern was trying to keep Tyche out of trouble.
“Are you sure you’re not the God of Mischief?”
“Really, Shey, I didn’t do it. I might have wanted to, but I do have some self-restraint.”
They paused outside the double doors to his mother’s study and Shey turned to face Tyche, still holding his hand. “Well, try to use some of it with my mother. I doubt she’s likely to be amused by anything right now.”
Tyche’s playful expression smoothed out, and he became serious. “I will. I promise. No more fooling around.”
Shey leaned down and captured Tyche’s lips in what was supposed to be a quick kiss, but at that exact moment, the double doors opened, putting him and Tyche on full display for his mother, who sat behind her grand desk in the center of the room.
Fuck.
The only good thing was that there were none of the usual ministers, chancellors, or even generals meeting with her. Just her advisor, who had been the one to open the door.
“Your Highness,” Merriwether Dalton greeted crisply, her pencil-thin eyebrows leaping up to her steely gray hairline.
Shey straightened and smiled, but it was simply a baring of his teeth. “Ms. Dalton.” He tightened his grip on Tyche’s hand and pulled the God of Luck into the office. He’d planned to release Tyche’s hand prior to entering, but in for a penny…
Glancing over, he noticed that Tyche’s face wasn’t mischievous any longer, and he’d paled. At least it was obvious he hadn’t wanted to be introduced quite this way either.
“That will be all, Ms. Dalton. I would like to speak to my son…and his companion…alone.”
Ms. Dalton wiped her face of any expression and bobbed a curtsy to the queen before exiting the room.
By the time the doors shut behind her, the queen was out of her chair and crossing to her son.
Shey released Tyche’s hand so he could wrap his arms around his mother, squeezing her tight in reassurance.
“I’m okay. I swear, I’m okay.” His words were soft and muffled against her shoulder.
She was wearing a black blouse and a long black skirt.
It was the only color he’d seen her wear since the death of his father.
He had vague memories of her in soft pastels when he was younger.
He was certain his mother hadn’t owned a single item of clothing that was black prior to the king’s death.
“Shey, you scared me to death.” There was a slight tremor in her hands as she gripped him.
During his brief stop in Sirelis to change boats, he’d spent a couple of hours with his mother but hadn’t glimpsed his sister.
He’d explained what he could, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t enough to answer all his mother’s questions and chase her fears away.
She also hadn’t gotten the chance to meet Tyche.
“I’m okay,” he repeated, willing to say it a hundred times if it eased her worries. “I’m sorry for this mess with New Rosanthe, but the dragons were amazing. You’ve got to make the trip to the Isle of Stone.”
She scoffed and relaxed her grip. She took a small step back and lifted her head to look him in the eye. “If they’re all like Haru, I don’t think I’m prepared to meet the dragons.”
A choked laugh sounded behind Shey, followed by a rough throat-clearing. His mother raised a questioning eyebrow. That was all she needed to do. One little glance and it was like being hit with a thousand questions at once.
“No, not all dragons are like Haru. He’s very much one of a kind.
I think you would find Clan leader Omari Nori to be someone you could talk to and get along with.
” Shey pivoted on his right foot, shifting from his mother to extend a hand toward Tyche, who stepped away as if he intended to make a break for the door.
“Mother, this is Tyche, a very good friend.” His mother’s other brow lifted to join the first questioning one, but Shey pressed on.
“We met while we were imprisoned in Damardor. He helped me to escape and return home.”