Page 125 of The Sun King's Noon

Richard drew it out. The silver chain pooled into his palm, and the gold disc gleamed in the lantern’s light.

“I—” Richard cleared his throat. “I had meant to give you this earlier. It is—well—a birthday gift. Belated, I suppose.”

Kaelen lifted his head. When he saw what Richard was holding, the rest of him followed—springing upright with a gasp that morphed into a wince as the ship lurched again.

“Oh—oh no, you did not—” He gaped, eyes huge. “You did not have to—Richard, no, this is?—”

“Hush. It is yours.” Richard tipped the chain into Kaelen’s open palms. “It…it is the sun because—” He bit back the words‘because you shine so’. “Well, it is Ardenia’s crest, and it seemed fitting as a—a token of the realm.”

Kaelen turned the locket over, his eyes suspiciously wet.

“It is the loveliest thing I have ever held in my hands,” he whispered. “The loveliest gift in all the Seven Realms. I shall not ever take it off. Not for the rest of my life.”

Richard blinked. “That is a rather long commitment for a chain.”

“I shall be buried in it,” Kaelen said with utter solemnity.

Richard chuckled. “Now, you are being plain absurd.”

Kaelen hesitated and, with a quick peek up at him, blushed. “Would you—” He coughed. “Would you put it on me?”

Richard’s breath hitched. “I—yes. Of course.”

As Kaelen bowed his head, Richard rose halfway from the chair. He leaned in close enough to see the small scar at Kaelen’s hairline. Close enough that when he reached to fasten the clasp behind, his cheek grazed Kaelen’s temple, and he felt the warmth of Kaelen’s breath against his neck.

The clasp clicked. Richard retreated into the chair and smiled. The sun hung at the hollow of Kaelen’s throat, nestled in the dip between his collarbones. The engraved sunrays glittered, hinting at the message concealed within the locket—safe until the day Kaelen discovered how to open it.

“It suits you,” Richard said.

Kaelen caressed it and smiled back, cheeks dimpling. “I shall think of you whenever I feel it.”

Heat surged through Richard’s face. That seemed all too intimate a thing to say. Perhaps it was how Kaelen spoke to all his gift givers?

“We should sleep now.” Richard glanced at the circular window opposite that revealed only blackness. “At dawn we sail on, and whatever it is that guards Singers’ Teeth, we shall meet it.”

Kaelen beamed and sank against the pillow. “Very well. Goodnight, Richard.”

He had said the name with an easy fondness, and Richard found himself smiling.

“Goodnight, Kaelen.”

* * *

The skiesthe next day stretched clear and blue, with calm waves that Richard prayed would hold. Flint appeared in high spirits. He lounged at the helm, whistling and singing. He had his hair tied back, wore a skin-tight vest, and grinned even as blood still stained the planks at the starboard rail.

Richard concentrated on managing the ship. Throughout the day, he oversaw the sail and lines. Flint coiled the rope and kept their weapons nearby. Despite his nausea, Kaelen took charge of the chart and bearings. He stood by the binnacle, lifting his gaze from compass to horizon and back again, muttering under his breath. Every so often, the ship would lurch, and his mouth would tighten, but with the wind ruffling through his hair and the sun streaking his brown skin, he looked very fine, and Richard caught himself staring more than once.

By noon, the ship had settled into a smooth trajectory, and they took lunch on deck, sitting in a triangle near the mainmast. Flint ate a strip of salted fish, while Kaelen managed half a slice of bread. The sea around them sparkled in endless folds of blue and emerald. Every so often, a shoal of tiny fish leapt from the waters, and far above, the gulls wheeled and cried.

Gazing over it all, Richard understood what Seola meant when she once told him the sea’s beauty had no rival.

Flint took out an apple, sprawled against the mast.

“Well, now,” he drawled. “The youngest of our crew has a new bauble.”

Kaelen, who’d been absently fiddling with the locket, curled his hand over it. “I shall not let you steal it.”

Flint scoffed. “I only steal things of value. That’d fetch me no more than two silvers at the market.” He squinted at Richard. “How much did you give for it?”