Chapter Twenty-Two
Ethyr lay on his bed, holding the spinner Poyut had given him and twirling it lazily to and fro.
Frantic knocking on his door bolted him upright. It didn’t stop or slow.
“What?” he snapped, sliding off the bed and jerking open the door. “What is it?”
The attendant standing there pulled their fist short of hitting him and threw themselves into a deep bow. “Your Divinity, I’m sorry to bother you—Poyut and the Guard Master are at each other’s throats. They’re going to kill each other.”
“What?”
“We didn’t know who else to get. Please come quickly.”
“Well where are they!?”
“The advisor’s study.”
Ethyr shoved past them and darted down the hall. Even on the stairs, he could hear the loud tangle of their voices, shouting over each other. He ran faster.
“Maybe stop pettily arraigning me and focus on your own job!”
“My job is to protect the king from threats, especially if they’ve wormed their way into the palace!”
Poyut and Lyrian stood chest-to-chest in the middle of the room. Though the latter had an extra head of height on Poyut, her bristling stance gave her a proportionate hostility. The hand on the hilt of her sword helped; Lyrian didn’t have his scabbard at all.
“What are you doing?” Ethyr demanded, and was glad his voice separated the two and turned them toward him.
Poyut threw a daggered glare at Lyrian before striding over to Ethyr. “He dismissed Gionan from service,” she told him sharply.
Ethyr blinked. Looked over her shoulder to Lyrian.
“He is the one who spread disparaging rumors about our relationship,” Lyrian said, his words holding the same cut as Poyut’s.
Poyut spun to face him. “You have no proof of that! You had no right to make that decision!”
“On the contrary, all domestic personnel within the palace are under the advisor’s authority. This has nothing to do with you. The only one I need to explain myself to is the king.” He raised his eyebrows, staring down his nose at her expectantly. She turned to Ethyr.
He shifted, looking away from her anger. “Let me speak to Lyrian first,” he said. “Then we’ll discuss it.”
“Discuss what?” Poyut asked angrily. “Gionan was the head attendant for twenty-five years! He would never do something so unprofessional. Don’t you see what he’s doing? The head cook, the head attendant…”
“The cook left of her own volition,” Ethyr reminded her.
“Yorith filled this palace with whoever he wanted and no one batted an eye,” Lyrian butt in. “I don’t appreciate being persecuted for doing the same under good reason.” Poyut glared.
“Poyut,” Ethyr said firmly. She closed her mouth, looking down at him in desperate exasperation. “Please. Let me talk to Lyrian.”
She clenched her jaw, the fingers on her sword tightening. Then she turned and stalked out.
Ethyr exhaled out his tension and quietly closed the door. He stared at the dark oak, humiliation creeping up his spine and digging its needle fingers into his gut. He couldn’t turn around and face Lyrian. He had to.
He swallowed and forced his shoulders to turn, detaching his feet from the floor to turn with them. He stared at Lyrian’s shoes rather than meet his gaze, which he knew was steadily on him.
“She acts on emotion, not intellect.” Lyrian said. “I know you’re fond of her, but someone like that shouldn’t be in a position of authority.”
“Why did you dismiss Gionan?” he asked quietly.
Lyrian sighed, long and weary. “I didn’t want to tell you… Like Poyut said, I thought he’d be more professional and it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Tell me what?”
“That day, during…”
Ethyr pressed a hand over his face. “Yes,” he interrupted before it could be said out loud.
“I saw Gionan walk by the room. He saw everything.”
Ethyr moved his fingers from his forehead to his eyes, squeezing them shut. He not only made advances, he did it with the door wide open. How stupid could he be? There was no world in which that wouldn’t have repercussions.
“But your attendant saw us too,” Ethyr pointed out. “How do you know it wasn’t her?”
“Because she wouldn’t sully my reputation. She practically raised me, she has no reason to do that. Gionan, on the other hand…”
Ethyr gnawed on his lip. Gionan wasn’t as vocal about his disdain as Poyut, but Ethyr had gotten the sense he didn’t like Lyrian. In fact, it seemed most everyone in the palace didn’t. The man hadn’t been exaggerating when he said Yorith filled it with people who hated him.
“I asked around and followed the trail of gossip, and it all led back to Gionan. I had no choice, Ethyr. Once I knew it was him I had to take decisive action, that kind of behavior cannot go unchecked. Even if he didn’t mean to spread a rumor and had only mentioned it to someone, it still got out.”
“I understand,” Ethyr sighed. “Though I wish you had informed me before doing it.”
“Do you? I had a feeling you would rather avoid my company. I didn’t want to force it on you.”
Embarrassment colored his face. He raised his shoulders, wondering how Lyrian could be so astute as to ascertain even that.
“Th… thank you.” He cleared his throat. “That’s very considerate of you.
But I would rather avoid situations like this.
In the future, discuss such decisions with me before taking it into your own hands. ”
The long pause finally brought Ethyr’s eyes up to Lyrian’s.
The man watched him with laid-back regard, and for some reason it echoed Ethyr’s own words back at him.
Taking it into your own hands. It was a good thing he was already flushed, because the rush of heat to his face would have been shamefully unambiguous.
“Of course, Your Divinity,” Lyrian finally replied with cool cordiality, dipping his head. “As I said, I value your opinion. Such actions won’t be taken again without your consent.”
Ethyr’s swallow was unfortunately not as inconspicuous as his blushing. “Good,” he said with as final an air as possible. “And Poyut is King’s Guard and the steward of palace guards. She deserves your respect, no matter your personal feelings about her.”
Lyrian gave no response to that. Ethyr left to find her and do what he could to mend her perceived offenses. Once again, Lyrian was taking her ire while only trying to protect him.
Poyut was pacing in the main hall, agitation written across her face. She hardly slowed when Ethyr approached.
“Poyut—”
“What possible justification does Lyrian have for this?” she interrupted before he could get a word out. “I know Gionan got on your nerves, but you know he would never spread such disgusting falsities. He has integrity.”
Ethyr bit his lips together.
She clenched her fists, still striding back and forth. “That’s why Lyrian needs to get rid of him.”
“Lyrian doesn’t need to get rid of anyone,” Ethyr said. “I know it’s a shame to lose someone like Gionan—”
Poyut whipped to face him. “It’s not a shame, Ethyr! It’s a ploy! How can you not see that? Now all he needs is to get rid of the servant steward and me, and he’ll have complete control over the palace and you.”
“I wouldn’t let him do that,” Ethyr assured her.
“You let him do this!” Poyut cried.
“Lyrian interrogated the staff and all trails led to Gionan,” he replied firmly.
Poyut scoffed. “Maybe you don’t want to believe Gionan is capable of something like this, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t.
He dislikes Lyrian as much as all the others.
He was very loyal to Yorith, you know that.
He’s perfectly capable of strategizing a way to undermine Lyrian’s authority—”
“Ethyr!” Poyut huffed, exasperated. “You’ve known Gionan for months now, and you take Lyrian at his word instead of considering that he may be lying?”
“He has no reason to lie,” Ethyr told her sharply.
“He has every reason!”
“Regardless,” Ethyr interjected loudly. “Lyrian has the authority to dismiss and hire whoever he wants without reason, doesn’t he? If he wanted to be rid of Gionan he could have done it weeks ago. Even if you don’t agree with his decision, that doesn’t mean he cannot make it.”
“Not if you disagree. What reason has he given you, other than his word, to possibly make you believe Gionan suddenly abandoned all his morals?”
Ethyr sighed, rubbing his temple. “He… it’s…” He closed his eyes. He couldn’t tell Poyut the truth, that Gionan hadn’t made it all up. Certainly not in the middle of the palace halls. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “You just have to trust me, he had good reason.”
“Why don’t you trust me?” Poyut demanded.
Ethyr looked up at her incredulously. “Seriously? You told Yorith everything I let you know in confidence!”
“I told you why I had to,” she replied sharply.
“You didn’t have to!” he exclaimed. “You made everything worse!”
“I made everything worse?” she scoffed. “I was trying to protect you. I’m trying to protect you!”
“I don’t need your protection,” Ethyr snapped. “I don’t need you treating me like a child. I’m your king, not your brother.”
She opened her mouth, but his last word closed it, and she looked at him with a hurt offense that went beyond their argument. Ethyr’s resolve quickly shattered.
“I’m sorry,” he exhaled, looking away from her. “I didn’t mean to…” He shook his head. “I’m just sick of being treated like a prop with no thoughts or knowledge of my own. I deserve trust, too. And respect.”
He dared a peek back at her. Offense had softened to sadness. She sighed and dragged a hand over her face.
“Come with me.” She turned and stalked out of the palace, not giving Ethyr any time for questions or doubt. He hurried after.
“To where?”
“You’ll see.”
Poyut saddled her own horse while a stable boy prepared one for Ethyr, and like before, Ethyr mostly had to sit and let his mount follow Poyut’s.
“Are you sure we should be going alone?” he asked nervously as they trekked down the mountainside towards the city.
“I can’t risk bringing anyone else.”