Page 161 of The Sun King's Noon

“Stay out of trouble,” Richard said. “Mind Master Clemens. Mind your minders. Mind the road. And above all, mind you do not forget”—he grinned at the triplets—“my great, dark dungeons.”

* * *

The days went by quickly.Joffrey rushed the horses through the Estaran countryside, keeping to a brisk pace. Richard did not mind, eager to return home, though his insides twisted atthe thought of meeting his siblings’ anger. He also found his patience with Malgrin dwindling.

“—and by what madness Your Majesty was persuaded to drink tea given by a filthy bandit, I cannot fathom. Truly, such vermin?—”

Richard learned to tune the old man out. Instead, he passed the time with Agnes. When she was not dozing, she spoke of her library, her adventures as a book collector across the realm, and Richard was captivated. He could not imagine a younger version of her—a maiden who faced down book thieves and mercenaries to secure priceless collections. Her stories enthralled him, and she even appeared slightly less intent on dying when she told them.

“Born, I was, Your Majesty,”she wheedled,“with the most unusual hair colour, and the villagers called me a bad omen. Well, it was certainly not bad luck that torched their tavern. Oh, do not look at me so, Your Majesty, it was they who burned a girl’s books first. And no one died. Well, one did lose a leg, but it was well deserved.”

Nevertheless, by the fourth day, Richard missed Kaelen deeply.

The carriage halted four times a day for the horses, but Kaelen kept his distance. Richard understood perfectly—Joffrey watched, the soldiers watched, Malgrin watched. And yet the absence of the easy talk they had grown into was an aching wound.

Richard tried, where he could, to stare at Kaelen. Dusk was an opportune time, for the soldiers made camp, allowing Richard a good view of Kaelen sharpening his blade and sparring with Joffrey.

The staring helped him relax. Since they had left Estara, a tight chain had looped around Richard’s chest, a chain that threatened to mangle him—Galdran’s smile, Gloamvarn’s forces,the harpy, Estara’s threat, Penelope’s tears, Elara’s fury, the missing siren heart. There was so much, so so much, and the chain squeezed the breath out of him whenever he thought of it.

But then, he’d glimpse Kaelen’s smile, his dimples, and the chain would slowly—ever so slowly—unwind.

On the fifth day, after they’d crossed the border, Richard took his chance. He waited until it was the second watch of the night—Kaelen’s watch—and slipped out of the carriage. The moon illuminated the distant figure amongst the trees.

Richard crept past the fires—only embers now—and heard Joffrey’s snores rolling out of the captain’s tent. He tiptoed over the soldiers sleeping around the fire and entered the tree line. Kaelen’s back grew before him, and Richard had just readied to wrap his arms about Kaelen’s waist, when the world spun, and he was pinned to the grass. A knee landed on his shoulder, and a fist drew back above his face?—

Kaelen froze with wide eyes. “My king!”

Richard beamed up at him, elbow throbbing where it had cracked against the turf. “My knight.”

“What—what in the name of every god—what would you have done if I had reached for my sword?”

“I am quick enough to dodge.” Richard manoeuvred his unpinned arm to pluck a daisy near his hip. Gently, he tucked it behind Kaelen’s ear. “There.”

Kaelen’s lips twitched. With a sigh, he shifted his knee off Richard’s shoulder. “Is this your manner of apology for foisting a squire on me?”

“A king does not apologise.” Richard smiled as Kaelen frowned. “Come now. You shall make a fine teacher for her?—”

“I do not wish to speak about it,” Kaelen grumbled.

Very well.” Richard tilted his head. “Let us talk of our kiss.”

Kaelen squeaked and would have reared back if Richard had not grabbed his collar. “My king?”

“Lovers kiss, do they not?” Richard dragged Kaelen’s collar closer. “And are we not lovers? Or is this a trial phase?” He chewed on his lip. “Well, if this is a trial phase, I should like to know the requirements I am to check off.”

Kaelen laughed. “There is no trial phase. And there is certainly no checklist?—”

“Then let us seal our arrangement with a kiss.”

“Right. Um. About that.” The tips of Kaelen’s ears had gone pink. “Perhaps we might return to discussing the matter of my squire?—”

Richard hooked a foot around Kaelen’s calf and twisted. In a blink, their position was overturned, and Kaelen landed in the grass with a yelp.

“Do tell.” Richard straddled Kaelen’s hips and leaned over, planting his hands by the knight’s head. “Why do you not wish to kiss me?” He scowled. “You kissed Ravi. Plentifully, by all accounts.”

“Ravi was different—” Kaelen grimaced. “And, um, I—I have a blister in my mouth. It—um—is oozing pus, and you shall not wish to taste it.”

Richard stared. “Let me see.”