History #2
“Oh, Beloved Eminence,” she said, immediately turning back to him. It was dangerous for her to speak to him so familiarly, even in private, but he didn’t admonish her. He needed to hear he was loved sometimes.
She took his hand in her gloved one, offering an air kiss to each of his knuckles.
It was an old Pavarian sign of affection, and it never ceased to stir his heart.
“You are intelligent, kind, generous, and beautiful. I will never forgive your parents for what they did, but it does not diminish you. Far from it. You have risen above the sins committed against you, and you are the finest Flower I’ve ever known. ”
“I’m the only Flower you’ve ever known,” he remarked lightly.
“And it will stay that way. No one will ever compare to you, Eminence.”
The most devoted champions served until death. From their first meeting, Ardor knew Jain was such a person; she would be at his side on his deathbed. She would likely outlive him, but she’d sworn she’d never champion another.
This comforted him too. Perhaps because she was the first person to choose him above all others. He was her first and only choice, and when he went to his grave, he would find peace in that.
When Ardor left the clinic, Leya hurried to join him, trailing behind as his dutiful shadow.
He’d asked her to walk abreast many times, but she refused because of alleged impropriety.
Leya was a lifelong servant of the goddess.
To her, a Flower was sacred, a vessel crafted by the goddess of fertility herself.
Ardor didn’t feel particularly sacred, but he didn’t discourage the idea. He was in a hostile land, and religious fervor had saved a Flower’s neck more than once. It was important to keep one’s options open.
* * *
THE PALACE LIbrARY was limited compared to the library back home, as they’d only recently expanded their bookbinding technology, but over the past few months Ardor made the most of it.
Until now, he’d primarily focused on the Kysanian history books, which offered a fascinating window into Kysan’s national psyche.
But now, as he scanned the catalog, he considered a new subject.
Would investigating the royal family raise suspicions?
He was already reading up on their version of the third Kysanian territorial expansion (which they quaintly referred to as the War of Pavarian Aggression).
He mapped out a logical progression to contemporary histories and plucked several recent volumes.
Leya wanted to carry all the books, but at his insistence she settled for merely carrying half of them. As they approached the garden, Leya whispered, “Your Eminence.”
Lord Patel hurried toward them, and Ardor discreetly slowed his steps so the smaller man could pace with him. Unlike the servants and guards, the king’s adviser had no qualms about such things. It was refreshing.
“Eminence,” Lord Patel said, bowing. “You’ve received a good report, I hope?”
“Yes. Dr. Jain is optimistic I will be pregnant soon.”
“Good, that’s good. Eminence, I don’t want to alarm you, but I must tell you something about the king in confidence.”
Ardor’s face remained still, smooth as undisturbed water, even as his heart quickened. “Yes?”
“His Majesty had a riding accident and sustained a minor head injury. He’s displayed some odd mannerisms since, but Dr. Jain assures me behavioral changes often accompany a head injury and he’s perfectly fine.
I’m afraid it took us a few days to notice the change, otherwise I would have notified you sooner. ”
What a reasonable and courteous lie. Lord Patel offered a perfectly logical explanation why the king was suddenly tripping over his cock, and mere hours after Ardor voiced his suspicions to the good doctor. His champion must be in on it. She knew about the switch. Why hadn’t she confided in him?
“I’m glad to hear he’s well,” Ardor said.
“I’m tracking his symptoms. Have you, ah, noticed anything unusual?” Lord Patel’s eyes were uncharacteristically anxious.
Ardor smiled, hoping to reassure him. “Enthusiasm.”
Lord Patel cleared his throat. “Yes, I noticed that myself. Well, if it pleases you...”
“It pleases me a great deal.”
“Good,” Lord Patel said, with a full-bodied sigh. “Good. If he says anything strange, I hope you won’t hold it against him. I’m afraid he hasn’t fully recovered.”
“Of course not.”
As they bowed farewell, Ardor’s thoughts were churning. It was all plausible and neatly explained. He’d even gotten their story straight with Jain, which was a testament to how skillfully his champion had embedded herself in the palace and gained their trust.
Had Xandar’s fertility issues finally compelled them to put an impostor on the throne? But more importantly, was the switch temporary or permanent?
The thought of going back to the cold, cruel king who’d wed him quickened Ardor’s heart. He didn’t like the impostor. Hell, he didn’t know him. But that soft voice and ungrudging courtesy were a massive improvement, to say nothing of his obvious virility.
Perhaps the prudent question was not who or why, but how. How could he keep this stranger in his bed? The answer to all his problems was the same: by getting pregnant as quickly as possible.