Chapter Twelve #3
At last, Ferrin led him into a study lined with green curtains and dark oak panels.
There were cushions on the floor for submissives who preferred to kneel, a couch along the wall, and shelves of books with thick yellow paper.
A map listed every noble family, taking up an entire wall with tiny nameplates and lines of succession.
The section for the royal family had two new marks under King Adrien and Isiodore de Mortain, his consort.
There weren’t names there, but it looked like someone had set aside space to write them.
“Don’t touch anything,” Ferrin said, pointing Wes to a chair. “I need to prepare for King Adrien to arrive. He’ll want to be here for this.”
“And there’s no chance of delaying him until it’s over?”
Ferrin gave Wes a long-suffering look. “I’ve learned by now that when it comes to the de Guillories, trying to keep them away from the latest scandal is like trying to keep a cat off the counter. In the end, the best you can do is try to contain the mess.”
Wes narrowed his eyes. “Spoken like a man who has a cat.”
“We have three,” Ferrin said. He left before Wes could point out that Ferrin had been infamously allergic to cats as a boy, closing the door firmly shut after him.
***
“HOME AT LAST!”
King Adrien hopped out of the royal carriage with all the good cheer of someone whose lover hadn’t been abducted by his parents and his best friend’s husband, basking in the sunrise creeping over the palace walls.
He had the gall to look almost peaceful, all while Delauney oozed miserably onto the plaza and tried not to behave like a wilting violet.
“Don’t fret, Delauney,” Adrien said, adjusting his gloves as he strode up to a line of anxious servants. “Sabre and Ferrin have the situation well in hand. Ah, Lilian! Did your daughter pass that exam she was so worried about?”
“Yes, your majesty,” a servant said, smiling wryly as Adrien breezed by.
“Great!” Adrien said, hopping up the steps to the palace. “I’ll send her flowers. What color does she like?”
“Yellow!” the servant cried.
As Adrien hurried up the steps, pausing only briefly to speak to a servant here and there, Delauney glumly noted the difference between his behavior with his servants and with the gentry at the ball.
Wes would be curious to know that the king of Staria seemed far more animated when speaking to his staff, who treated him less like a king and more like a distant relation.
One of the footmen even chided him for arriving too early.
It would have probably been an unforgivable offense with another monarch, but Adrien just shrugged and said he’d try and cause less of a fuss next time.
“You always say that,” a maid said. Adrien winked at her and swept past, leaving her shaking her head with a smile.
Delauney wondered what Wes would say. He’d probably point out that an agreeable king was only agreeable when it benefited him.
Delauney had never heard of Adrien’s father being remotely pleasant, but perhaps he, too, had started out as a bright-eyed young king.
His reign had been marred by rumors of paranoia, death, and upheaval, and despite some reforms he’d passed before he’d abdicated, he would not be remembered as a particularly kind monarch.
It only struck Delauney now how dangerous it was to base the fate of a kingdom on the whims of one person.
Adrien smiled back at Delauney. “Hurry up, now. You don’t want to leave your man waiting, do you?”
Delauney looked up, unnerved by these new, almost seditious thoughts. “What?”
“You didn’t hear my steward?” Adrien asked. “Wes is waiting for you in the Green Study. Your parents should be along shortly, and a representative from Captain—”
“Where?” Delauney asked, unable to contain the twisting, knotted mess of nerves in his stomach. “The Green Study?”
“Upstairs,” Adrien said. “Second floor, fifth door on your—I’m coming with you, you know!”
Delauney didn’t bother to wait. He raced up the stairs, breathing hard.
Years of sedately walking the decks of the Manatee hadn’t prepared him for running up narrow palace stairs meant to deter invading armies.
He was red-faced and panting by the time he made it to the second floor, and he burst through the door with the desperate frenzy of a small dog trying to keep up with a wolf pack.
Wes turned from where he was holding a book open, disheveled and tired but whole. He dropped the book as Delauney clasped him in his arms, knocking several other books off the shelf in his enthusiasm.
“We’re leaving Staria immediately,” Delauney said, kissing Wes frantically.
Wes held him back, struggling to speak through his kisses. “Might be difficult. Still contracted with the navy, Delauney.”
Delauney kissed him again. “I don’t give a damn. I want you as far from my parents as possible.”
“Well, that’ll be awkward,” King Adrien said from the door. He smiled as Delauney and Wes broke apart, half stumbling over the fallen books. “Your parents should be here soon enough. They won’t have the luxury of a relaxing tea, though. Do you like honey in yours?”
Delauney watched Wes turn his bewildered stare on the king as Adrien set a tea tray on the desk. Being served by the king was probably unnerving to a commoner, but Wes silently took the offered cup of tea.
“Sit,” Adrien said, “before chaos descends. I’ve come to appreciate what quiet moments I can find these days. You’ll be amazed how often cups of tea go cold in this palace.” He sighed and gazed into his tea. “What’s this about a contract in the navy?”
Delauney caught Wes’ anxious look. “Wes has a while yet before his time is up, but he’s been accepted into next season’s studies at the Aviary in Gerakia.”
“That is a conundrum,” Adrien said. “As you know, I’ve been trying to establish schools of my own in Staria. If you think you might return to teach one day—”
“Papa!”
Adrien froze, teacup raised to his lips, as a young boy of around two or three raced into the room.
He had bright red hair and strikingly blue eyes, and he was undeniably a de Guillory by the mischievous look on his face.
Adrien managed to put his cup on the desk before the boy slammed into his legs.
“Excuse me,” Adrien said. He picked up the boy, flipping him upside down in his arms. The boy shrieked with laughter. “Who is this?” Adrien asked, carrying the boy out the door. “An escaped convict? A ghost? A spirit?”
“It’s Blaise!” the boy cried, still giggling.
“But Blaise is a good boy who doesn’t run through the palace at the ass-crack of morning,” Adrien said.
The boy laughed again. Delauney peered around the corner of the office just in time to see Adrien slinging Blaise over his shoulder.
Blaise kicked his feet, grinning, as Adrien approached a tall, exhausted figure at the end of the hall.
“Hello, darling,” Adrien said. “Did they sleep at all?”
“Did you?”
“Not a whit. Here’s the wiggle-worm.”
Blaise reached out to hug Adrien as he was passed over. Delauney slipped back into the room, eyeing Wes.
“Does the king have a son?” Wes whispered.
“Possibly?” Delauney whispered back. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for a monarch to hide their heir before they were old enough to be announced to the kingdom.
With King Adrien’s unpopular tax policies toward his wealthier nobles, it made sense to be a little protective.
Still, Delauney should have heard something.
“I suppose I truly haven’t spent long in Staria, lately. ”
King Adrien reappeared a moment later, looking considerably more cheerful than he had only minutes before. “Well,” he said, retrieving his tea. “It’s only lukewarm, this time.”
Wes and Delauney glanced at each other, unsure what to say.
“The kingdom appreciates your discretion,” Adrien said, taking a sip.
“Discretion with what?” Delauney asked.
Wes shrugged. Delauney had a feeling that, charming as King Adrien was, he could make their lives very difficult if news of his son came out after this.
Adrien smiled. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Delauney. Other than how nice you’ve been to Sabre, of course. Ah, the chaos continues. Listen.”
Delauney sat up as he heard voices in the hall. They were distinctly familiar, from his father’s wheedling tone, his mother’s trembling questions, and Leo’s exhausted responses.
Ferrin and Sabre de Valois entered first, followed by Delauney’s family like a flock of bewildered ducks.
Ferrin moved to stand between Wes and Delauney’s family, a sentinel with a gleaming sword at his hip.
Delauney’s parents seemed caught between confusion and outrage, while his brother simply looked exhausted.
Leo perked up when he saw Delauney, breaking free of his parents to clasp him by the arm.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Leo said. He turned to Wes. “Are you all right? I sincerely apologize for my parents’ deplorable behavior. It was truly uncivilized.”
“Uncivilized?” Delauney’s mother cried.
“Leo!” his father said. “Not in front of the king.”
Leo moved behind Delauney and Wes, laying a hand on the back of Delauney’s chair. Their father went beet red at the sight.
“Wonderful,” Adrien said. “We’re all here. Except for Captain Lennox, it seems.”
“Captain Lennox is indisposed,” Sabre said, sitting behind the chair. “He seems to be struggling to recover from injuries sustained while he was...” Sabre paused as though lost in thought. “...breaking the king’s law protecting the rights of his enlisted sailors, I believe.”
Wes frowned slightly, but he kept his gaze fixed on Delauney’s father. Delauney knew that it had to be uncomfortable to hold a dominant’s gaze as a submissive, but Wes didn’t look away, holding him down like a pinned insect. Delauney’s father shifted in his seat, clearly unnerved.
“I don’t see why we’ve been summoned here,” Delauney’s father said. “There’s obviously been a misunderstanding on the part of my son and this... man.”