Az #3
My father gets up from his seat with a groan before wandering over to a cabinet displaying a plethora of cut crystal decanters, probably filled with liquors from all over the known galaxies.
One even looks luminous yellow. “I said I agree,” he comments, pouring himself a glass and offering one to me.
I decline with a shake of my head. If my father is going to act so damn out of character, I want to at least be clear-headed enough to know I’m not hallucinating the whole thing.
“You know,” he says, chuckling as he waves a decanter in my direction.
“I’ve always thought Zalora could have done a better job at being king.
She’s intelligent and fair. And no one dares cross her.
” He downs the entirety of the dark purple liquid he’d just poured before pouring another.
“Don’t tell her, but I think I’d rather ride one of those drak creatures you’re so fond of than ever see her furious at me ever again. ”
He laughs lightly but completely sobers, clearly reminding himself why my aunt had been so mad at him all those years ago. My father puts the stopper back in the decanter and reaches for the liquid that looks like radioactive acid and cruiser fuel’s more volatile cousin.
“Should you be drinking?”
He levels me with a mid-pour look. “What’s it going to do? Kill me?”
I can’t help but let out a small, scoff-like laugh at that.
My father grins back at me. I’ve never seen him smile like that. It almost makes him look young.
“Who will you appoint as your successor?”
Coming back to his seat, he swirls the luminous liquid in the cut crystal glass, pondering for a moment. “Do you want the title of king?” he asks, gesturing to me with his drink.
“Fuck no.”
Tilting his head as he regards me, my father wears an amused smirk on his lips. “You’d probably do a better job than those that are constantly whispering in my ear at court.”
I shake my head. “I have no ambitions for the throne.”
“The best people don’t,” he says, taking a sip of the lurid yellow drink. He winces at the taste and then gives his glass an offended look before putting it down. “Your brother, then? Kiahn has been a fine First Prince for his principality.”
“Kiahn won’t give up his Niska to sire princes,” I state, because that is as plain to see as my horns on my head.
Shrugging, the king tips his head back to stare at the ceiling.
“My lords and senators really did not like him overlooking their daughters for contracts, only to invite them to be on his council instead. But I…” he sighs and then looks at me.
“I have a long list of regrets. One of them is that I have not made any kind of positive change for our people. I think Kiahn could usher in that change.”
For a moment or two, neither of us says a thing.
The room is filled with only the pop and crackle of the fire, and my father’s words hanging in the air.
After a while, his head lolls toward me, his eyes glassy.
“I take it you, too, will be refusing to entertain breeding contracts because of that human you brought with you this evening?”
I stand straight and say as clearly and firmly as possible, “That is correct.”
The face my father pulls is a contemplative one before he simply shakes his head, picks up his awful-looking drink, and raises his glass to me. “Good for you, son,” he says before downing the lot in one.
* * *
I stay in my father’s chambers for only a few minutes more before palace staff come to tell us that the dinner party is moving to the smoking rooms.
My father waves me on, claiming he is too tired to rejoin the evening.
He stands as I am giving him my goodbyes – almost as if he expects that we might embrace as family members do.
We have never done such a thing, and I debate for a moment or two, feeling as awkward as an adolescent drak learning to fly.
After hesitating, I decide to give in and wrap my arms around his frame, patting him on the back as I would either of my brothers or any of my teammates.
He is stiff in my arms, and a lot smaller than I’d ever imagined he’d be.
But the shaky breath he lets out, and the way he eventually returns the embrace has me realizing just how much he’d needed the contact.
My head is a jumble of thoughts as I blindly follow behind a footmale, leading me to the smoking rooms to rejoin the other guests. I do not quite know how to feel about the news of my father’s health.
Or what to expect when he passes.
Kiahn would probably raise him from the dead to kill him all over again if he names him his successor for the title of king.
My father is not wrong, though. Kiahn would make a good king.
“Az!” I hear as soon as I set foot into the smoking room. My mood brightens the moment I see my female excitedly heading toward me, a glorious smile on her face. “Oh, my God, Az! You’ll never guess what!”
“What is it?” I ask, drinking her in, an answering lazy grin on my lips at seeing her just so damn happy.
“Glex is actually listening to me!” she whispers, looking around and waving at where the male in question is standing, a maleservant topping up his bubbling drink.
He grins, lifting the glass as if toasting my Lois from afar.
Things are going remarkably well, then. “I am glad. I knew you could make him see sense.”
“And that’s not the best bit! He’s invited me to stay with him so we can discuss the plight of abducted humans, Niska’s plans, the refugee planet – all of it!”
Every part of me freezes. My breathing, my brain – even my heart.