Chapter Twenty
“SLACKING ON THE job?” Fyar clicked his tongue. “I should fire you for that.”
Killian peeled his eyes open. “Are they gone?”
“Yes, they’re gone. No thanks to you.”
“Hey now. Wrangling your council is not my job. I’m just here as a prop.”
“You’re here because this is important information that you need to know as my captain. You need to pay attention during these meetings.”
“I do,” Killian said. “Unfortunately. I listened to every boring word. Do you want me to recite them back to you?”
“They know what they’re talking about.”
“Maybe so. But I’d rather dig out my own eyeballs than have a conversation with them. Around and around and around in circles we go. I don’t know how you do it.”
Fyar’s lips twitched. “With lots of patience.”
Killian scoffed. “Right.”
Fyar’s council was apprised of four elders that had known him since he was born, they were his educators and his advisers. They had been officially appointed after Fyar’s rise to power. They were good elves, noble and fair, but also the most boring, blandest elves Killian had ever encountered.
There wasn’t a personality between them.
They were severe and tired looking, their skin and eyes dull. They could turn the most exciting topic into a lecture that droned on for hours, their speaking pace that of a snail.
Killian avoided them at all cost, even if they were technically neighbors.
The council members lived in the same wing as Killian and Hokda, though spread out on different levels.
They all gave Hokda a wide berth which Killian envied.
Maybe there was something to being an irritating asshole that worked in Hokda’s favor after all.
The council had been there to report on the preparations for Fyar’s centennial jubilee, around the city as well as within the palace estate, and to finalize the schedule of the palace’s private festivities.
They broke it down to the minute and by the third day’s plan, Killian was near snoring.
Ingara would be the stomping grounds of a month-long festival, a never ending party to celebrate Fyar’s reign. The second month of the new year, the month that Fyar bowed before his people and soaked the soil with his blood, sealing his fate forever.
Fyar would not join his people to dance in the streets, but he would have his own celebrations within the palace walls. Ten days at the end of the month, consisting of feasts and parties and drinking for days at a time, along with a friendly hunting competition between the lords.
The schedule was simple. The first three days would consist of parties stemming from Fyar’s welcome feast the first night. Many passing out in their chairs only to wake up and begin drinking again immediately.
On the fourth day, Fyar would host a royal hunt. A competition held in the forest to the west of the estate spanning three nights to determine which lord could take down the most impressive creatures.
On the eighth day—the day Fyar had been crowned a century before—would be a feast in his honor. Followed by more parties and more drinking.
Then, everyone goes home. The end.
“Are you excited, at least?” Killian asked, leaning against the mantle. “It’s only a couple weeks away.”
“Excited? Excited for my home to become overrun with drunken pests? No, Killian, I’m not excited. But it’s tradition, so I will bear it.”
“At least you can also become a drunken pest.” Killian pouted. “Some of us will be working.”
“Aw. Poor baby,” Fyar mocked him. “Don’t worry. I’ll sneak you some drinks under the table.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
The key turned without a click and Kade barreled into Hokda’s office, the one thought in his mind was to get in and out as fast as possible.
He hated that room, it made him sick. He’d been sent back from where he’d been in the green houses with Hokda, instructed to grab a packet of seeds the healer had left on his desk.
Kade stopped dead in his tracks when he came face to face with someone standing behind Hokda’s desk, one of the healer’s ledgers—the ones the apprentices were never, ever allowed to touch on threat of death—open in his arms.
They stared at each other, neither really knowing what to do.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” blurted Kade.
“Neither are you,” Porthos shot back.
Kade pointed at Hokda’s desk. “I was sent to collect something.”
“Oh.”
Kade took a long time to move. His steps were slow, hesitant. His mind was racing.
Did Hokda know that Porthos was there? He had to. Or else that would mean Porthos broke into Hokda’s personal patient records.
That was cause for expulsion. Even for a prince.
The small bag of seeds was right in front of Porthos in the center of Hokda’s desk. Kade edged around it, nervous and wary. The other apprentice closed the book that he was snooping through as Kade reached over him for the seeds, but it was too late, he’d already seen whose records they were.
Kade’s eyes flew to Porthos’. “You—”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“Why are you looking through the king’s records?” Kade took a step back. This was bad. This was worse than bad. The situation somehow worse than he’d thought possible. Screw expulsion, Porthos was looking at execution. The king’s records were beyond off limits.
“Don’t freak out. I can explain.” Porthos caught Kade’s arm, stopping his retreat. “Let me explain. Please, Kade.”
“I—” Kade looked around wildly. He was panicking, he didn’t know what to do. He hissed, “Talk quickly.”
Relief was plain on Porthos’ face. “I have Hokda’s permission. I swear it. Don’t look at me like that. I do. How else would I have gotten in here?” He pulled Kade closer and lowered his voice. “It was supposed to be a secret, no one else was supposed to find out until it was announced officially.”
“What?”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“Tell anyone what?”
It came out in a rush. “I’ve been appointed the next palace healer.”
Kade’s jaw dropped.
“It’s still years away, but after you and the other apprentices complete your training and leave the palace, I’ll stay here.
I’ll stay under Hokda and train until he thinks I’m ready.
” Porthos licked his lips. “Crazy, right? We’ve always been close, my cousin and I, so it makes sense.
Who better to look after you than family?
And the main responsibility of the palace healer is tending to the king.
I-I need to know everything, memorize Fyar’s entire medical history down to the smallest detail.
So Hokda’s been letting me in here when no one else is around so I can start. ”
Kade gaped at him.
Porthos grimaced, struggling to stay calm the longer the silence stretched. “Say something.”
“Congratulations?” Kade squeaked.
“Would you be serious?”
“I am! What am I supposed to say here?”
“Say you won’t tell anyone! Hokda would lose his mind if he found out. I could lose my position and be expelled. I—” Porthos inhaled sharply. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but please, please trust me. I have permission.”
Still confused and out of sorts, Kade looked into Porthos’ eyes, searching for unspoken answers. They were steady and unwavering. He didn’t see any outward signs of deception.
Kade had no reason not to trust Porthos. They were friends. Porthos had stood up for him when everyone else had turned on him. His friend was asking for his trust.
“He won’t hear about it from me.”
“Gratitude.” Porthos’ smile was a bit shaky, as were his hands when he gripped Kade’s forearms. “You’re a good friend, Kade.”
“I didn’t know you and the king were so close. You never speak of him.”
Porthos shrugged. “I don’t want anyone to give me special treatment. Plus, Fyar wouldn’t really like it if I were to spread his business around the palace. Court gossip, and all.”
“Right. I should go,” Kade said, stepping away. “Hokda’s waiting for me. I’ll see you later.”
Then, Kade turned and left, closing the door behind him, shutting Porthos back in with Fyar’s records. He wondered if he’d made the right decision.