Chapter 15
After sleeping terribly, which he blamed on Dawson, Ul was tempted to hand over the learning of the language to his secretary, so he didn’t need to spend more time around the dark-haired human.
Not that distance would change anything.
There was no denying that Dawson was very compatible with him, and that was key when seeking a mate.
And if the island was now in the wrong world, then none of his trading partners and allies would be offended. Were they wondering where Felloi had gone?
It made no sense to worry about those things when he hadn’t confirmed the island was in the wrong world, even though that seemingly impossible explanation was also the most logical, given the changes to the ocean, the sea floor, and the weather.
He had considered sending Dawson to the library again, but there was nothing further to be found there until the languages had been learned. Which meant he was stuck with his human shadow. And Dawson was very distracting.
Ul wasn’t even sure why he was allowing himself to be distracted. He had put off remarrying for so long, in part because he didn’t want to go through the process of getting to know someone after establishing compatibility, only to have them die.
He’d had twelve years with his husband before the ship he’d been on had sunk in a storm.
If he remembered correctly, his husband had also arrived on the island during a storm.
That should’ve been an omen about their relationship.
It had been tumultuous and ultimately unproductive despite their compatibility.
Despite the calm of the last three years on his own, Ul was lonely.
At first, he thought it was because he missed him, but in truth, he simply missed having someone in his bed.
And while there were plenty of people who would leap at the chance, and lords had offered their of-age sons for his entertainment if not marriage, he couldn’t be bothered entertaining something so fruitless. Or being beholden to the lord.
Even when he’d been the heir to the throne, his relationships had been political. No matter who was in his bed, there were always dangers and favors, and it was exhausting. At least on his own, there was no one but himself to worry about.
And no one to worry about him.
Though he wasn’t sure if any of his lovers had ever cared about him beyond what the affair promised them and their families.
“Sire, is there more to the letter?” Ifer asked.
It seemed as though he’d been drafting letters to the various districts every cursed day. And every day, he received letters back or runners bearing news.
Never any good news.
Meetings with councilors from the various districts were held daily.
Everyone wanted answers, and all he could say was that he was working on them.
The councilor for the farming district where the oil platform sat demanded that it be taken down and the people on board arrested for invading the island.
There were complaints because they’d built a pipe to the river.
He’d sent someone to inspect, but their pipe was not harming anyone, aside from the ogres whose land it crossed, and Ul had already paid them a compensation fee to keep the peace.
“I’m only writing the letter because they want answers. But I have nothing new to say.” And he’d spent half a page saying that there was nothing more to add to the situation, and it would be several days before anyone spoke the language.
“Perhaps we should end the letter with something along the lines of when communication has been established, you will hold a meeting with the councilors so that all the questions may be answered in the most efficient manner?” Ifer inclined his head.
“Excellent, write something like that, make copies, and then I will sign them.” And perhaps he’d get a few days of peace.
“You have been working since the oil platform arrived. Have you considered working less over the next couple of days, both for your own recovery and for the learning of the language?” Ifer glanced at Dawson, who was sitting in the corner studying the map of Felloi, with the guard standing at his side.
Ul was almost sure Dawson did not need to be followed by the guard, as he appeared to have no intention of running away.
Tomorrow he could wear his shoes and socks.
He was also sure the guards had noticed the change in his markings on the beach.
He shouldn’t have touched Dawson. However, he’d been so frustrated by the lack of progress and the need to understand who this man was that it felt inevitable, in much the same way as the tides would always lick the shore.
He trusted his guards to keep their mouths shut, but the three who witnessed it might talk amongst themselves. Dawson had noticed, and Ul was sure he’d asked what it meant. He asked a lot of questions.
“I’m fine. My arm barely pains me.” Except for when he tried to sleep, and then every movement made it ache. Or when he felt his missing fingers move, or the crushing pain ran along cartilage that no longer existed.
“I merely meant that it might be faster to learn the language if you dedicated more time to it.”
“Well, if the councilors stopped demanding my attention…”
“And that is my point. The more time you spend listening to their complaints, the less time you spend listening to Dawson.”
Dawson glanced over at the use of his name.
Ul smiled and nodded.
Ifer was right, of course. There was a reason Ul had promoted him to secretary, and it wasn’t to flatter him.
It was to ask the questions no one else dared.
That was something his father had always warned him about.
It was easy to surround oneself with praise, but that was never the full story, and a leader who only listened to half-truths was easily misguided by lies.
Yet, if he spent more time with Dawson, he might be forced to admit that he was not enjoying his solitude, and that he didn’t want to hand his kingdom over to his nephew.
Had his father or grandfather ever dreamed of walking into the ocean and swimming away from it all? Perhaps that was part of his problem. He hadn’t been able to swim for too long.
Standing in the ocean had only reinforced the craving in his blood. If he visited the rock pools. He could keep his arm dry while bathing in saltwater.
“Summon the healer. Perhaps we can convince everyone that I am in need of a daily saltwater bath to promote healing and need.”
Ifer smiled. “Is this the longest you’ve ever gone without swimming?”
“It is.” And while the healer claimed he was healing much faster than an ogre, satyr, or human because he did not have bones like them, that didn’t make it any easier.
The healer didn’t take long to come, trailed by the other human, who saw Dawson and seemed glad to exchange news. Ul trusted his soldiers not to speak; however, Dawson may have told Katrina about the change in his markings. Would Katrina then ask the healer what it meant?
How long until gossip spread?
The healer didn’t need to examine his arm to agree that taking the afternoons off to sit in seawater would do him good.
For the moment, the time he spent with Dawson could be put down to learning the language. But once he spoke the invader’s language and Dawson spoke Fellish, what excuses remained? How would it look to all his councilors if one of the oil platform humans was his mate?
Would they call it betrayal or bridge building?
He didn’t need to go searching for more trouble when it was so freely available.
Ifer announced he was clearing the king’s schedule for the afternoon, following the advice of the healer, leaving him free to take Dawson to the rock pools. Which created another dilemma: Did he take Dawson to the ones where the hatchlings swam, or to the private rock pools used only by the family?
The former risked showing the strangers where their young were protected, while the latter left him all but alone with Dawson.
Ifer gathered up the papers. “Will I find you in the private pools if I need you?”
It was as if his secretary sensed the thoughts churning in his mind. That was the safe option for his people, even if it wasn’t the safe option for him. “You will.”