Chapter 7
Tobias
“Here are the servants’ chambers. Our staff is available throughout the day, but on the rare chance you’re unable to find assistance, you may seek them here.”
He walked paces ahead, hands locked behind his back.
Keene Joseon was the wealthiest noble in Thessen, proprietor of the Joseon stables, and their host. Servants could’ve guided the tour, but he had taken their stead for Leila’s benefit, as The Savior of Thessen deserved nothing less.
But since Tobias, his family, and Raphael had arrived at Her side, they were allowed his company as well.
Begrudgingly, perhaps. It was hard to tell, as Keene’s face had been a blank canvas, devoid of feeling, since their arrival.
“This is where we dine.” Keene stopped in front of another room as grandiose as the others. “Tonight’s meal is in preparation. The staff has been made aware of your presence and will alert you once dinner is served.”
His shoulders were rigid, each step slow and controlled.
He was roughly the same height as Tobias and not any broader, but his carriage was imposing, the sharpness of his jaw like a small blade to the gut.
His clothing spoke of care and attention, from the crispness of his bone white tunic and matching pants to the golden stitching and delicate placement of the orange drape wrapping his chest. He looked so much like his son—the same copper skin, though perhaps a shade deeper, and the same jet-black hair, straight and cropped short.
Even in his hooded brown eyes, Tobias could’ve sworn the man looking back at him wasn’t Keene at all.
It was Flynn.
“This is my son’s chamber,” Keene said. “He spends his time here when he’s not tending to business matters. If he’s not at the stables, you will find him studying scrolls on finance and trade. The stables will belong to him one day, and it’s imperative he take the responsibility seriously.”
Flynn. He was there again in the roundness of Keene’s cheekbones, the thickness of his brows.
Tobias’s hands were balled into fists at his side, and he looked away from the noble to the chamber instead.
The space around him boasted slate walls, a wooden desk with intricately carved filigree, and a framed painting of a black thoroughbred bolting through the desert.
The space was lavish, particularly the long, horizontal mirror hanging against the wall in perfect alignment with the bed.
“This way,” Keene said.
He continued down the corridor while Tobias eyed the garish mirror. He and Leila shared a knowing glance before following in the man’s footsteps.
“This will be Your chamber, Your Holiness.” Keene opened the double doors wide. “We have many guest quarters, but this one is our finest. Though I’m sure it’s quite modest compared to what You’re accustomed to, I hope You find the space agreeable.”
The chamber was similar to Flynn’s in breadth yet understated, with steel blue walls, a wooden wardrobe, and a desk and chair with vines carved into the legs and back.
A sofa in indigo linen sat beside an ebony-paned window with white curtains, the sheer fabric grazing the tiled floor.
No, nothing about the chamber was modest.
Especially the bed.
Heat swirled in Tobias’s face. A bed with white sheets, blue throws, and a mountain of plush pillows. He stole a glance at Leila, who quickly looked away, a hint of a smile playing at Her lips. “It’s lovely.” She nodded at Keene. “Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.”
“Like all within this realm, I live to serve The One True Savior,” he said.
Tobias bit back a grin. His mother was right behind him, but that thought was easy to dismiss. A big, inviting bed. Somewhere for them to lay their heads. Somewhere to rest.
Somewhere to not rest at all.
Keene turned on his heel. “Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you to Mr. Kaya’s chamber.”
Tobias started. “My chamber?”
“Yes,” Keene said. “It’s this way.”
Tobias glanced between the bed, then Leila, then the bed once more. Perhaps he’d been presumptuous, but Leila seemed just as bewildered—more so, even, Her lips parted and eyes wide. Flushing, She composed Herself. “Apologies, I believe there’s been some confusion. Tobias is My suitor.”
“My family carries their lineage from Qirina, a proud realm of the Outlands,” Keene said.
“While our devotion belongs to Thessen, our homeland’s traditions remain dear to us.
” He stared straight at Leila as if She were the only person in the corridor, the others around Her mere shadows.
“Qirinian culture dictates it would be inappropriate for a man and woman to share a chamber if they haven’t yet been bonded by marriage.
It’s simply a matter of decency. I’m sure you understand. ”
She didn’t, and it was written across Her face. “Of course,” She said.
Their tour persisted, though Tobias was deflated.
His room was just as lovely as Leila’s. Keene claimed it smaller, but nothing about the villa was small, and he still couldn’t fathom why he had his own room in the first place.
Flynn’s bedroom mirror flashed through Tobias’s thoughts, and he scowled. Decency my ass.
The remainder of the tour lost his already strained interest. The walls were the color of sand with none of the dullness, the floors made of buffed limestone tiles that reflected their visages.
They walked by countless glass windows polished to a shine, and if they weren’t passing windows, they were passing sculpted horses atop pedestals, swords mounted on the walls, or the occasional painting from a master of the craft.
Petros’s work hung amid the others, and Tobias wasn’t sure if he was proud or offended to see it in the Joseon home.
The corridors wound in confusing ways and at ridiculous lengths, boasting far more rooms than any family could ever need, especially a widower and his only son.
Flynn swept Tobias’s mind, and he shook him away.
It was, without a doubt, the largest home he’d ever stepped foot in, save for the palace, though he hadn’t considered that much of a home at all.
“The bathhouse is prepared.” Keene clapped twice, and a flurry of men and women scuttled into a line behind him, their heads bowed. “Servants will escort you, and after you’ve bathed, we’ll break bread in the dining room.”
“Thank you for your generosity. We’re very grateful.” Leila stood tall, though Her smile was stiff. “And I look forward to discussing our partnership. Your aid in freeing Thessen from bondage will go down in the archives.”
“I am motivated for no other reason than to serve Your reign. The Savior’s line has brought prosperity to the realm, and maintaining Your rule is for the betterment of the people.” For the first time, his eyes panned to Tobias. “The servants are waiting.”
Tobias looked to Leila and his family before parting, following a man and woman down a strange corridor.
The bathhouse was one large room sectioned into many by stone walls, and though his loved ones were likely on the other side, the separation left him guarded.
The female servant disrobed him while the male servant prepped his bath, steam billowing from the water as rivers of soap and oil floated along its surface.
Tobias entered the pool somewhat willingly, eager to be clean but less-than-thrilled to have strangers prodding at his fleshy bits.
Both servants worked in silence, the woman massaging his scalp while the man scrubbed his feet, stripping away the filth while Tobias sat rigid and unyielding.
Naked and wet, Tobias waited in uncomfortable stillness as the servants handed him a pile of linen and leather—a sleeveless cream tunic with a boat neck, taupe harem pants that hugged his hips, and his sandals washed and buffed.
He dressed quickly, feeling renewed in the clothing, yet foreign, as if some innate part of him had been discarded with the bathwater.
“Mr. Kaya.”
He spun toward the voice, reaching for the blade that wasn’t on his thigh where it belonged. A servant stood in the entryway.
“Dinner is served,” she said.
He followed her through the villa, scanning the walls, examining doorways. His weapons were gone. He’d fix that later, or maybe that was their intention, to make him comfortable and attack when he wasn’t looking. That wouldn’t work. He was far from comfortable, and he was always looking.
He’d been to the dining room before but hadn’t truly seen it.
The black walls were peppered with blazing sconces, a black tiled floor glittered against the candlelight, and a charcoal table stretched from wall to wall, perhaps designed to keep dueling parties at a great distance.
His mother and sister waited across from one another, each in flaxen dresses with cowl necks like those of the servant staff.
Raphael sat at Tobias’s mother’s side wearing a tunic identical to his own while Leila sat at the head wearing a powder blue dress with reed-thin straps, Her hair tied into a loose braid over Her shoulder.
“Join us.” Keene sat at Leila’s side, gesturing toward an empty place setting.
Across from Flynn.
Tobias froze, a statue in the middle of the dining hall.
He forced his legs to move, his feet like blocks of lead scraping the floor, and when he took his seat, his eyes went straight to Flynn.
The noble was dressed in an emerald tunic and black drape, his posture straight and square.
Shiny black hair combed to the side, copper skin that shone from oils and care, lips drawn into a straight line—yes, he was very much Keene’s son.
Including the way he glared at Tobias, his gaze piercing to the bone.
“Sir?”
A servant waited at Tobias’s side. He gestured toward the pitcher in his hands. “Wine?”
Tobias nodded. “Thank you.”