Max Dread
How I got stuck walking back with His Royal Highness, I had no idea.
He stayed silent mostly, though.
But eventually, he ran his mouth. “You never really understood what it meant, did you?”
I side-eyed him. “What what meant?”
“How many times you said no to my father that day.”
My body tensed at the reminder.
A memory I wanted to forget. I gritted my teeth, remembering how it felt to pick up the knife. Everything inside me screamed to say no, but I couldn’t.
It was my mother.
If Kingston didn’t get that, that was his problem. Not sure why he brought it up now, when it didn’t matter anyway. It hadn’t meant anything for either of us.
“Yeah, well, I still did what I did in the end.” I kicked the ground as we walked out of the trees.
Sunlight glared off the eleventh obstacle, and I couldn’t see Quinn from here.
“Fat load of good it did me anyway. Same as everything here. We’re all just puppets led by our strings, thinking we might just get somewhere, and ending up with nothing at all. ”
“Nothing?”
His quizzical gaze annoyed me. “Not from where I’m sitting. Last at the table, remember?”
Kingston chuckled softly.
“What’s so funny about that?” I growled, my ears burning as my anger grew. “You made your point.”
When his eyebrows rose, I got the feeling I’d missed something. I hated that. Hated how he never just spit it out.
We walked in silence a few paces before he did.
“I’ve always known that as a D’Arthur, I would be King my senior year and oversee The Quest, which meant I would have to choose twelve Knights. And though they wouldn’t be ranked, I would assign each of them a seat.”
My brow furrowed, and I glanced at him beside me before fixing my stare resolutely ahead.
“It was never a question of who would get the first and final seats at my Round Table. Not since that day at my father’s.”
“Yeah, your bestie got the top spot. No one saw that coming.” I snorted. “And another surprise, I got the last.”
“Yes, as my right hand, Landon was always going to be in the first seat.”
“The one on your left. Which makes no sense.”
“No?” Waiting until I frowned, he explained, “Traditionally, the right-hand man sits on the left, leaving the King’s dominant hand open for defense.”
“Of course.” I snorted. “So you put me there believing I was the most likely to attack you? I can’t say you’re wrong, but how is this making your point? Whatever the hell that is.”
He shook his head, an apology in his eyes.
“No, Max. The seat on a King’s right is also a seat of power.
The person who sits there is one he trusts will never betray him.
The person on the left, traditionally the non-dominant hand, is trusted as the one strong enough to defend the King’s weak side. ”
“Landon?” I scoffed.
Kingston shot me a pointed look. “I will disregard your tone there because no, not Landon. Max, I’m left-handed.”
My jaw worked as I unraveled his meaning.
He’d put us in the traditional spots. His right-hand man seated on his left the way tradition dictated, and he put me on his right.
But for him, his left side was dominant, and he’d placed Landon there because he trusted him to never betray him.
I narrowed my eyes on his face.
“Yes,” he said quietly, following my train of thought. “My right side is my weaker side, and I trusted you to defend it.”
“But you knew that I wouldn’t,” I snapped, annoyed with myself for getting worked up over the way he spoke in fucking riddles. “I’d already shown you that. If it came down to it, I’d stab you in the back.”
“Yes.” He unclasped his hands and ran his palm over his shirt.
“But you were the only person, aside from Landon, who I trusted would defend me as long as you possibly could. Who wouldn’t betray me unless it was absolutely necessary.
And if you did”—he stopped walking and put his hand on my arm, pulling me to stop—“it would be for love.”