Page 159 of The Sun King's Noon

Richard allowed his head to fall back. “Wearefleeing, Malgrin.”

The Estaran king’s parting roar had made that clear.“I tolerate no disrespect, Sun King, not from those rebel rats nor from kings creeping into my realm and shaming me before my own children. Now, begone, all of you, and thank your heathen gods that I am merciful!”

Malgrin massaged his temples. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, you might have refrained from using such crude language?”

“Nothing crude about it,” Agnes muttered, eyes drooping shut. “And I should have liked to add that the good Estaran king could go find some pointy object to insert into his orifice?—”

“Lady Agnes!” Malgrin gasped. “That is terribly unbecoming!”

“Yes, my lord.”

Richard smiled and, through the curtains, caught glimpses of the city falling away. The long shadow of the gatehouse passed, and they were finally out of Vexmara and onto the open road.

Yellow Estaran fields. A vineyard sloping towards a stream. Tall, uniform trees flanking the road. Richard watched it all go by, trying not to think of the unease coiling in him.

Estara in league with Gloamvarn. Alaric’s warning had been true.

Richard closed his eyes. What to do? Frostheim was their only fighting ally and needed to cross a sea to reach them. How could Ardenia hold back two armies? Should he send in assassins and destabilise Estara entirely? If Marius and Octavia died, the eastern realm’s armies would fight against each other to seize the highest power. Brother against brother, sister against sister, until the entire realm drowned in blood and ruin. Hundreds of thousands would die. Innocents would be slaughtered if the factional fighting came to a head. But at least then, Ardenia would not need to fear Estara’s impending betrayal.

And if Gloamvarn defeats Ardenia and takes her anyway?A tired voice in Richard’s head asked.You would have dealt such wanton chaos for nothing.

Does it matter?An uglier voice within him asked.We must take any measure against our enemies.

Richard sighed and filed the topic aside to discuss with the generals. He tried to nap, but all too soon, there came a rap on the window and Sir Joffrey’s face peered through the glass.

“Your Majesty,” he called from his horse. “The circus is just ahead. We’re about to overtake them.”

Richard straightened. “Pull alongside. I should like a word.”

Joffrey barked a command, and the carriage quickened, then lurched to a stop beside colourful wagons. The troupe had frozen in a loose, terrified knot along the verge. Richard opened the door to find Kaelen waiting beyond it, a hand outstretched. Taking the hand, Richard stepped down and brushed his thumb over Kaelen’s knuckles. Kaelen squeezed his fingers back, and Richard’s heart skipped a beat.

Master Clemens stood foremost, his bald head shining in the setting sun.

“Y-Y-Your—Your Most—Your Most Royal?—”

He wrung his hands and bowed low.

The rest of the troupe hastily followed. Tilda and Wren almost toppled with their enthusiasm, and the acrobat bent until the crown of her head touched the ground. The children, Richard noted with some amusement, did not bow and wormed their way to the crowd’s front.

“Y-Your Majesty—” Clemens stuttered. “Forgive us—by all the gods, we did not know—we had no notion that it was the king himself travelling with us—if there were any rudeness, any want of respect?—”

“There was not,” Richard said. “You are owed a reward, Master Clemens, for allowing my knight and I to join your company. It provided us with a passage into Vexmara. Now, make haste to Ardenia, for Estara is no longer safe, and once there, come to my castle with the two bays we have left in your care. You will be suitably compensated for your service.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Clemens squeaked. He grimaced at Kaelen. “Sir Knight. I beg your pardon, I do. For the lifting and the hauling, and the mucking out, and the wagon wheels. I didn’t know you were the Basilisk Slayer, see?—”

“Master Clemens,” Kaelen said, “I have had worse tasks assigned by sterner folk.”

Joffrey snorted from horseback on Kaelen’s right. “Aye, and most of ‘em by me.”

As the troupe tittered nervously, Puck brandished a finger at Richard.

“But you don’t look like a king,” he announced.

Jeya caught Puck by the back of his shirt and dragged him into the huddle of children. Wariness etched every inch of her, as if she feared Richard might order the boy’s execution.

“Puck,” Richard said gravely. “Pip. Penn.”

Three small chins lifted in unison.