Chapter Twenty-Five
KILLIAN WAS STATIONED at the doors of the great hall. The guards held tall, pointed spears tight at their side along with their usual swords, alert and listening intently to the king’s address.
At the head of the room, Fyar stood behind a long table, covered in the finest food and drink that Netyere offered.
Local delicacies made from freshly harvested produce.
Fruits of all colors, finely cut and presented.
The same long tables stretched around the perimeter of the large hall, the middle carved out for dancing.
Each table sat the upper echelon of Netyere’s society.
The nobles. The aristocracy. The court and council.
They had arrived in droves, carriage after carriage adorned with the most ornate silvers and golds, pulled by Netyere’s finest horses. Killian had watched, perched on the steps next to Fyar, welcoming them and ensuring their safe arrival.
They’d paid Killian no mind as they buzzed with excitement, tripping over their words in greeting the king, marveling at the palace and estate. Kissing ass.
Many of the lords and ladies had only traveled to the capital once before, for Fyar’s coronation, accompanied by their parents. With the new king, the new generation had stepped forward, taking their parent’s titles and responsibilities. They were eager to please and easier for Fyar to keep docile.
They clapped and cheered excitedly as Fyar’s welcoming words came to an end and he invited them to dig in. Live music drifted through the hall, flutes and harps played a delicate and cheerful melody.
After making the rounds, checking in with the guards at each entrance, Killian took his place at Fyar’s side, a few steps behind the king’s chair. He blended into the background, eyes and ears pricked and alert. Twin swords heavy on his back.
“This is going to be a long night,” Fyar said lowly, not turning to look at Killian. “I wouldn’t blame you if you sneak off to chug some whiskey. While you’re there, bring me back a bottle, I don’t think this wine will be enough.”
Fighting an amused smile, Killian disappeared into the crowd to do as instructed.
Along the way, Killian caught sight of the healer’s apprentices, seated off in the corner. Included, but not spoiled. Porthos was noticeably absent, his place was at the front, alongside his brother. A prince for the night.
Kade and the others had replaced their awful uniforms with formal robes of a deep navy blue. Killian guessed even Hokda thought the green was too much for polite society.
A smile on his face and flushed from the drink, Kade turned and caught Killian staring, as if he too had been seeking Killian out in the crowd. Kade’s smile softened and he bowed his head in greeting.
Killian returned it, comforted by that small interaction. Maybe they would be fine. He’d done a lot of thinking after his conversation with Fyar at the training grounds. They were just prolonging the inevitable at this point, drawing out the torture.
Killian didn’t want them to change, but they already were.
It was best to just get it over with.
He would speak to Kade after the festivities ended.
Kade’s cheeks were warm and his body buzzed. The wine getting to him.
The food mostly finished, the tables had begun to break their strict seating, more and more elves swapping seats or venturing onto the dance floor, all of them with a full glass in hand.
Kade had never experienced anything like this before.
It wasn’t the same atmosphere as when he would get a drink in Sila’s tavern, the patrons usually wanting quiet and calm after a long day’s work.
But here, in front of him, were some of the craziest elves he’d ever seen.
There were lords in the corners chugging down bottles of wine, betting on who would drop first. Ladies sitting in circles dissecting the lives of peers who sat only a table away.
Pairs found dark corners to flirt and touch a bit more than appropriate for public spaces.
And yet, no one batted an eye, like this was normal for them.
Through it all, Fyar stayed seated at the head of the room, lounging comfortably.
One leg propped up on the armrest chair, tall white boots on display, his long white hair like a prop over his shoulder.
His face barely moved as he looked out at the sea of his people, watching, absorbing.
His lips would move every now and then, like he were talking to someone though there was no one around him but his shadow.
A step behind Fyar, stood Killi in his ceremonial uniform.
Fitted black fabric that tapered to his body, showing the curves of his muscles when he moved, gold thread embroidered patterns at the cuffs of his sleeves and the collar of his shirt.
Carved golden buttons and ties adorned the jacket he wore.
Killi’s lips moved minimally when he answered Fyar.
Kade swallowed another gulp of his wine. It was hard to look at Killi sometimes, he was so handsome. So strong. His beauty as sharp and polished as the swords he wore.
Unfortunately, Kade wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“Captain del Torau looks so good tonight. I wish he’d wear that uniform more often,” said Rayea reverently. “If he would just look at me, I think I’d die on the spot.”
Galet giggled. “They look like a painting when they’re together.”
“The king and his ever devoted guard. Oh, I’d read that story.”
Kade’s lip curled.
“It’s not just a story.” Galet leaned closer to her friend, smirking, her hand coming up to cover her mouth like that did anything to dampen her volume. “I heard that before Killian ever got a place in the Guard he was serving the king…in bed.”
Rayea gasped.
Galet nodded, eager to share her gossip. “It’s apparently how he garnered the king’s favor, being from common birth and all. He was apparently so alluring that the king brought him into the palace anyway.”
“Is that how he got his position?”
“It must be,” said Galet. “The king would want him close always. What better way than to make him Captain of the King’s Guard?”
“Oh, gods, he must be good,” Rayea groaned. “What I’d give to take him for a spin.”
Kade’s knuckles went white around his glass. The very thought of them getting near Killi made him quiver. It was bad enough they were breathing the same air.
“It certainly would be quite the bragging rights,” said Galet. “To lay with one who has served the king.”
“I bet he looks amazing under that uniform.” Rayea suddenly perked up, her mouth open like she’d just had her first original thought. “Who do you think is the one who…you know…” She gestured vaguely.
Galet finished for her. “Bends?”
Rayea giggled.
Rolling his eyes, Kade mimed throwing up.
“Alright. That’s enough,” Taiga interrupted, pulling out the chair next to Kade and falling into it. “You girls are disgusting.”
“It’s just a bit of harmless fun.” Galet shrugged. “Don’t be so boring.”
Taiga turned to Kade. “Ignore them. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Kade hummed.
Galet and Rayea turned their glazed eyes on Kade like they were just remembering he existed.
Rayea started, “You’re his brother—”
“Not by blood.” That distinction felt oddly important.
“—could you introduce us?”
“I’d rather die,” said Kade, extremely serious.
The girls pouted in exaggerated disappointment. Galet then tapped Rayea on the wrist and pointed with her chin to something across the room. Their attention elsewhere, they were soon gone and Kade was left boiling.
Gulping down the rest of his drink, Kade poured himself another glass of sweet red wine, and then another, and another. It was good, though not as good as what they made in Turell. He vaguely wondered when they would tap into those barrels.
“No one’s going to take the bottle from you, you know,” said Taiga, looking unimpressed with Kade’s behavior. “You can just sip on it.“
Kade glared, then remembered that this was his friend, and smiled apologetically. Taiga sighed and got up, saying he was going to find Porthos, and hesitantly invited Kade to join them once he figured his shit out.
Killi was exactly where Kade had left him before getting sucked into that awful, horrible conversation. Only he wasn’t alone anymore.
Jolting in his seat, Kade felt the anger rise again as Killi had his head bent close to his lieutenant Loran, barely an inch between them.
There was a shy seductive smile on Loran’s face, his stupid dimples putting in work. He had one hand on Killi’s bicep as he whispered.
Kade was horrified when he saw Killi lick his lips, and when he met Loran’s eyes, a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.
Loran took a step away, a step towards the exit closest to them, and gestured with his head for Killi to follow. There was an enticing twist to Loran’s body as he left the hall, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where Killi stood.
Don’t.
Don’t.
Please, don’t.
Kade wanted to scream.
It felt like a knife to the gut when Kade had to watch Killi murmur something to Fyar, and then slip away into the shadows after Loran.
Kade was sure he was shaking. The wounded keen he knew was coming from him sounded distant to his own ears.
He was going to kill Killi for this.
Before he could second guess himself, before he could think better of it, Kade was on his feet and out of the hall. Leaving through the same doors that Killi had disappeared through, tracking them through the darkness.