“A pleasure to finally meet,” Vana says. “I’ve heard much about you.”
“Likewise,” Lucien says. “Some of it even flattering, when Prince Bellamy is pressed on the matter.”
Vana grins, for at least the third time since he entered the room. It’s shocking. Kazia isn’t used to seeing Vana this happy.
“Thank you for your help distracting the coast army,” Kazia says. There, that was something polite he had planned to say.
Vana’s smile fades. “My only regret is being unable to do more. You achieved what I couldn’t, deposing Imrik.” He hesitates, his next words clear even before he says, “Marek told us about your magic.”
Kazia twists the end of his braid. “I asked him to. It’s annoying to explain.”
He doesn’t intend to make any broad announcements, but he isn’t keeping his grailhood a secret anymore. There’s no point—too many people know about his magic. Kazia would still prefernot to share the pain aspect outside a few people, like Marek and Vana.
Kazia needs Vana to know why he killed their father, even if Vana hated Imrik, too.
The gold thread in his hair has a nice texture between his fingers. “I have good news if you want to do more,” Kazia says, before Vana can say something awful and sympathetic. “I intend to reward favors with further demands.”
The change of subject doesn’t wipe the concern from Vana’s face. “I’m happy to help, depending on the demands.”
This may be too great a request, given how happy and tan Vana and Daromir are. Kazia will have to be persuasive. “Move back to Draskora for a year. Help me build my council and manage the transition. I’d like to be a better king than Imrik, but I can’t do it on my own.”
Kazia has too many ideas to manage by himself, on top of securing his position and forging peace with Silaise. He wants legal reforms. Protections for grails. Ethical standards for magical research.
He sets his hand on the arm of the throne. Without missing a beat, Lucien takes it, caressing the wrist he once broke. Now, there’s only tenderness in his touch.
“What do you think, Daro?” Vana asks.
Daromir’s attention returns from roving the edges of the room. “I was happy to put this place behind me, but I won’t lie. I’d like to see what changes a year might bring.”
“If you’re sure,” Vana says. After a moment of eye contact and silent communication, he nods. “We have one condition. Kaiskaran independence.”
Kazia relaxes. “The declaration of intention is already drafted. We can figure out the transition details together.”
He’s done the math. Any tax revenue from Kaiskara gets eaten up by enforcement. It’s a neutral investment at best. The only reason Imrik kept the island was his own grasping pride.
Vana bows deeper this time, and when he rises, his smile is wider. “Then I’m happy to accept, Your Majesty.”
That went as well as Kazia could have expected. He’s still relieved when Vana and Daromir depart. The quiet is nice. Lucien has done his best to make Kazia sleep regular hours over the past week, but it’s difficult when so much is happening. Kazia needs to guide and witness all of it.
“Do you have more audiences today?” Lucien asks, toying with Kazia’s braid.
Kazia leans closer. Just because it’s comfortable, not to give Lucien easier access to his hair. “That was the last.”
“You’ve had a long week.” Lucien lets go of Kazia’s hair, which is bad. Then Lucien moves in front of the throne to lean over him, which is good. “You should take some time to relax.”
The look in his eyes is anything but relaxing.
Kazia shifts on the throne. The object in his pocket digs into his hip. “Did you have any ideas?”
Lucien spreads his hands across Kazia’s thighs, his touch hot through the silk. “Several ideas.”
He leans in as Kazia lifts his chin, and they meet together in a kiss. Kazia is getting addicted to touching Lucien. Pushing past his fear only heightens the pleasure he finds on the other side.
Lucien knows what he’s doing, and Kazia definitely benefits from his experience. Though each expert kiss reminds him of one thing.
“I don’t really want to lock you up,” Kazia admits in between kisses. “But I’m bad at sharing.”
“I never would have guessed.” Lucien moves to his jaw. The tender skin of his throat. “I was going to give you a month to settle down before I scared you off with relationship talk.”
