Page 72 of The Sun King's Noon

He sneaked one final look at his siblings, and prayed to Eirwen of winter?—

Keep them safe. Keep them whole. I will return.

Then he was through the door and walking—sprinting—to join Kaelen.

PART THREE

THE STALKED CIRCUS

“Hasn’t my prince enough on his shoulders? Does he not deserve someone who is already kind? Someone who will make him laugh, who will be gentler with him than he is with himself, instead of another burden he has to fix?”

CHAPTER 29

They left in hooded cloaks through the Eastern Gate, their mounts plain. Within the hour, the city’s lights were swallowed by the dark.

The road unspooled before them, hedged on either side by wheat fields and the occasional cottage. Kaelen led at a canter, occasionally turning in his saddle, and whenever their gazes met, Kaelen ducked his head and bit his lip. The sixth time Kaelen turned, Richard gave him a tentative smile, and Kaelen almost steered his horse into a ditch.

By dawn, they’d reached the eastern forest. The road narrowed beneath towering oaks and beeches. Ferns crowded the verges, moss twisted around the roots, and birds chittered loudly from their nests. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the canopy, brightening the clusters of tulips and daffodils, and Richard found himself smiling. Despite the sleepless night, he’d not felt so awake in days.

At noon, Kaelen drew them off the track to a clearing. Richard took his offered hand to dismount, thighs aching from the hours of riding, and hobbled to an oaken log with a wince.

After feeding and watering the horses, Kaelen joined him. They sat side by side, chewing on bread snatched from thekitchens. Once they’d eaten, Kaelen unrolled a map across his knees.

“Lord Vagor marked the circus’s route here.” Kaelen tapped at the dotted line. “The Mirthwell Circus moves slowly, for they’ve a large group of wagons, beasts, and performers. They’re due to perform in a small Estaran town called Hollowmere two days hence, and from there proceed towards the coast to Vexmara. We’ll be crossing the border in an hour or so, and if we keep at our pace, we should meet them at Hollowmere.”

Richard leaned in to study the map. Their shoulders brushed, and Kaelen stiffened.

“And what of disguises?” Richard asked.

“Dianara passed me a potion to turn my hair black.” Kaelen pulled a wry face. “It’s unlikely many in Estara know of the Basilisk Slayer, but brown skin already attracts more attention than it is worth, let alone fair hair to go alongside it.” He removed an apple from his inner pocket. “Dianara gave me a potion to turn hair a chestnut shade, too. That might be fitting for you, my king. And perhaps we could buy more accessories in Hollowmere to alter you further.”

“It is a good thought,” Richard said. “Thankfully, aside from the Estaran court, I doubt many have ever set eyes on me. Now, as to names, I suggest we use our own.”

Kaelen bit into an apple. “Is that not the very opposite of disguise?”

Richard stood and stretched, lifting his arms. “Richard is a common enough name—half the boys in the realm born in the same year as I were named the same. No one is going to look at us and conclude the King of Ardenia and his Deputy Captain are attempting to infiltrate Estara. Do you not agree?” He frowned. Kaelen was gawking at where his tunic had ridden up. Why exactly, Richard could not fathom—all it had revealed was the tiniest sliver of his belly. “Kaelen?”

The knight jerked at his name, cheeks crimson. “Y-yes! You—you make a good point, my king.”

Richard pointed. “You cannot keep calling me that.”

Kaelen’s mouth opened, then closed. “Ah.”

“Indeed. You may call me by my name.”

“Your name.” Kaelen looked as though Richard had asked him to swallow a hot coal. “My king, how could I dare?”

Richard sat again and toyed with the apple Kaelen had laid out for him. It was strange. Now that he thought of it, none had ever addressed him as such. It was ‘Your Majesty’ from the court, ‘Boy’ from Dain and Selwyn, ‘Brother’ from his three. Even his parents had addressed him most times as ‘Son’.

“I suppose…” Warmth crept up his nape, and he cleared his throat. “I suppose it has been an age since another has called me by my given name, and I should like it if you would deign to do so.”

He did not look at Kaelen, choosing instead to slice off the apple’s peel. Was it an odd request? There was, Richard supposed, a measure of intimacy in allowing Kaelen to address him so. Not even his siblings had ever dared to.

“Richard.” It came out hoarse. “Richard.” A bashful smile spread across Kaelen’s face. “By the gods, this is going to take some getting used to.”

“It is only a name, Kaelen.” Richard took a bite of the apple, though it was a wonder he could swallow at all with his heart feeling as if it had pounded its way up to his throat. “You shall pick it up.”

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