Char sighed. “Fine. I hope your father doesn’t find out someone’s caught your eye. He’ll go from writing letters about the Zatic princess to knocking our door down about it.”
Tristan’s snort was derisive. “The man is consistent, if nothing else.”
“If Eloise is right about the ghoul numbers then his attempts to get you north will only persist.” Char sighed. “I worry what he’ll do if you continue to ignore his summons.”
“Send more?” Tristan asked, clearly unconcerned. “Remember his other son and try to persuade him instead?”
“Your brother has even less interest in the north than you.”
“Indeed.”
“Prince Hal’s sent for you again, by the way. Apparently, he got his hands on a book detailing an ancient judicial system he’d like to try out, and he wants you to train the guard on the new—or rather, ancient—ways.”
“I’m busy.”
“Exceptionally busy,” Char replied dryly. “He sent a copy of the book.”
Tristan let out an amused huff. “Of course. Bring it here, then. I’ll take a look.”
“Prince Hal mentioned the monarch in his letter too.”
Austin’s pillow stiffened.
“He’s circling.”
Chapter Nine
“I don’t like that it’s all sand.” Austin gestured expansively to the beautiful white beach. His voice caught and broke in ugly places, and he snatched the cup Tristan had been following him around with and drank half of the contents. He stood barefoot in a shaded, well-furnished outdoor porch overlooking the beach.
Tristan’s men were exercising on the white sands. Those not running an unmarked track were practising flips and, just as often, practising falls. Those nearest were unsubtly listening to Austin and Tristan argue. Though since Austin woke with his fever broken, Tristan had swapped from dauntingly persistent to a state of extreme supplication: every whim was being met withyesandof course.
The lack of openings to attack was driving Austin mad.
Tristan looked past him to the white beach. “What would you like it to be instead?”
Austin scowled. “I don’t care about the beach. I mean, under the water. There’s barely any fish, if you hadn’t noticed. There’s no rocks or seaweed, nothing for octopuses to make dens of and hide beneath. It’s barren, and it’sboring.”
Tristan nodded, as if Austin were being perfectly reasonable.
He descended the steps onto the beach, and by unspoken command, the Troop broke away from their exercise andapproached. It was too far to make out Tristan’s voice, but Austin saw as he pointed towards the ocean.
A unified, confused, “Yes, sir,” answered him.
Tristan rejoined Austin on the porch as the Troop broke off, heading for an outcrop in a nearby hill. When they reached it, they began tearing loose whatever rocks looked movable.
Tiredness crept up Austin’s legs, and he abruptly dropped into the nearest chair with a scowl. He’d only walked from the room to here, and he was already spent. Even his power was lying weak and curled up inside, not quite dormant, but Austin couldn’t hold his voice steady enough to use it anyway. He’d never get back to Liam at this rate.
“I will fetch bigger ones,” Tristan promised, eyeing Austin up. “And transplant vegetation.”
Tristan knelt in front of Austin, hands kneading his calves. “Here?”
Austin’s lids shuttered closed. “I have done nothing but lie down for days, and my muscles are all sosore,” he complained.
“You have been tense and sick, not relaxed,” Tristan pointed out, his firm touch breaking up what felt like clumps of acid in his calves. “Not to mention you were sore before getting sick,” he added quietly, almost to himself.
There was a faintpop,and Tristan’s massage paused, then began anew with oiled fingers. Austin sank in the chair, biting down a groan.
“Thisis how I should have been taken care of,” Austin grumbled. “Not force-fed gruel and used dishwater.”
