Chapter 25
Richard woke to a shriek and jolted upright so fast that his head cracked against a shelf. Jars rattled, and seeds showered down over his hair.
“Oh—oh, sweet gods preserve me—”
Cook Shirley stood in the doorway with a hand clasped to her bosom and a wooden spoon held aloft. Kitchen light spilled past her shoulders. Richard squinted, disoriented, and realised with some mortification that he was sitting on a sack of rosemary in the herb cupboard.
“Milord!” Shirley hurriedly yanked the door shut behind her. “Milord, begging your pardon, but the castle’s been turned inside out hunting for you! It’s past noon, and my William’s been running the halls like a man possessed, and here you are, in my herbs!”
“Noon?” Richard croaked, wiping drool off his chin.
“Noon, milord! The Estaran delegation left even before the sun came up, and the Naradeshi and Frostheimers are already waiting in their carriages!” Shirley clicked her tongue and plucked rosemary from his hair.
“This is a walk-in cupboard! Not a bed! Why ever would you sleep here? There are spiders in here, milord. Spiders!”
Richard groaned and scrubbed his palms down his face. His doublet was rucked sideways, the fine fabric creased beyond saving. He struggled up and brushed at the cobweb on his shoulder. Shirley smacked his hands away from his collar and set about straightening it herself.
“Arms up, milord. There. Yes.” She tugged his sleeve straight and tutted at a smear of something pale along his wrist. “Flour. However, did you get flour on you?”
“Shirley, the Naradeshi delegation—”
“King Vikram is in the eastern garden, milord. Said he’d wait for you till you were found.” She smoothed a crease along his hem and inspected him with a grimace. “It’ll have to do. Go, go, go.”
Richard went. The kitchens were a blur of startled faces—a scullion froze mid-stir, a cook dropped a ladle into a broth, and a girl peeling carrots gawked until Cook Samson tugged her ear.
Richard dashed through the service corridors and shouldered through a door that opened onto the eastern garden.
The noon sun blazed, forcing him to shield his eyes. King Vikram stood among the primrose beds, a pair of shears in one hand and a bundle of green stems cradled in the other. He wore a simple white tunic that reached his knees, and his hair was combed back. At Richard’s approach, he straightened.
“Ah! The Sun King emerges at last.” Vikram’s dark eyes travelled over him. “And in impeccable form, I see.”
Richard glanced down. A sprig of thyme clung to the breast of his doublet. He flushed. “Your Majesty. Forgive me. I overslept.”
“I do not require an explanation, Sun King.” Vikram snipped another stem deftly. “I, too, have found myself sleeping in strange corners when my wife and daughters are cross with me. Family, you understand.”
“Quite.” Richard brushed the thyme off. “I must apologise, Your Majesty, for last night’s chaos—”
“You are not responsible for the weather, nor for the schemes of elves who believe themselves gods,” Vikram interrupted. “You are responsible only for what you did once the storm arrived, and what you did, I watched carefully.” He wagged a finger at Richard. “You did well.”
Richard’s throat tightened.
“My wife,” Vikram continued, “keeps a garden that is the envy of our province. She raises flowers, and when I travel, I bring her cuttings. She complains I choose them poorly, but she plants them all the same.” He held up a primrose. “These will make her scowl, I think. She scowls beautifully.”
“I see.”
Vikram turned back to the flowerbed. “He was very powerful, that elf. Even my sorcerers could not break his Bind. Tell me, Sun King. How does Ardenia hope to stand against such might?”
Richard clenched his jaw. For a while, he watched Vikram work the shears. “What would you do in my place?”
Vikram paused. “Truthfully?”
“Truthfully.”
“I would surrender,” Vikram said simply.
“I would go to the Gloam King and bargain for every inch of softness I could wring. I would become consort, concubine, whatever he wished me to be if it spared my family, and I would spend each day of that bargain searching for the seam in his armour.” He shrugged.
“That is what I would do. My people would live, and one day, perhaps, he would not.”
Richard stared. “I cannot do that.”
“No?” Vikram’s mouth curved, gentle. “Well, we all have our limits.”
Richard hesitated. “Would you not reconsider? Our alliance. Your soldiers. If Ardenia falls, Gloamvarn will not stop at our borders—”
“No, Sun King.” Vikram’s voice was mild but firm. “I will not give my soldiers to your pointless war.”
Richard blanched.
“Do you think you have failed?” Vikram raised a brow. “Well, you have not. I came to meet a young king, and I found him keeping his wits while a tyrant danced in his hall. I leave today impressed.”
“Oh. I…thank you.”
“Now, when we first met, you had a question in your eyes you did not ask.”
“I wondered—” Richard cleared his throat. “I wondered how you carried the world up those steps.”
“Exactly.” Vikram laughed, the sound echoing off the trees.
“A question that has haunted many. Let me tell you then, Sun King. I did not carry the world. Only my world. My newborn daughter, whom I weighed and judged to be worth more than all the realms put together.” He thumbed the elephant pendant on his chain.
“She wailed and fussed the whole way up. Screamed so loudly the priests could not hear themselves speak. And yet, they gave me the crown.”
Richard gaped. It sounded like a fairytale.
“There is nothing more important than family, Sun King. All else is just noise. Remember that.” Vikram hefted his stems. “I am sorry. Naradesh will not give you soldiers. But should your armies need feeding, my fields are wide, and my granaries deep. Grain. Rice. Fish. Chicken. Spices. Whatever you require, send word, and it will come for as long as you need.”
It was a generous offer, but disappointment sat cold in the pit of Richard’s stomach. Would that Vikram had offered his soldiers instead.
Vikram tutted. “No, Sun King. Food is not a poor substitute for soldiers. You will come to learn this.”
“Ah.” Richard rubbed his nape. Curse Vikram’s ability to read him so easily. “Of course. I will remember this, and you have my gratitude, Your Majesty.”
“Good.” Vikram clapped him on the arm and stepped back. “Now, do not come and see us off. Look at you, man—there is rosemary in your collar still. Go. Dress and eat. My people and I will see ourselves out.”
“I—well—yes. Thank you.”
“May the stars allow us to meet again, Sun King.” Vikram smiled. “And may you be free of herbs when we do.”