Page 93 of The Sun King's Noon

“He carries more than you could ever know.” Kaelen tore the bread in half and gave the larger piece to Richard. “I am quite content to fetch his soup. So peace, the lot of you.”

A chorus of ooohs and aaahs resounded.

“My, my.” The snakekeeper smirked. “Carries more than we can know, does he?”

“The poor, weighty lamb,” Svetra giggled. “Look at the colour of him, will you, Talia?—”

“Oh aye, he’s ripe as a strawberry, the dear?—”

Richard wasn’t surprised. The heat had crept up from his collar to the very tips of his ears. He bent low over the bowl.

“—leave my lover be?—”

A strange buzz swept through Richard, and he found himself struggling hard to contain a smile.

“So,” Talia said brightly. “Tell us. How came two such pretty creatures to find each other?”

Kaelen rubbed his nape. “There—there is no great tale to it. Our parents were the closest of friends. We grew up under the same roofs, in a manner of speaking.”

“Ah, the childhood sweethearts,” the snake-keeper sighed. “Lovely.”

“Hardly that.” Svetra squinted between them. “Richard’s older. Aren’t you, Richard? You’ve a few years on him.”

“Ten,” Richard admitted, picking at the crust.

“Ten?” Talia gasped. “Watched him grow, then, did you?”

“I did not notice him at all, in truth. He was simply the son of my parents’ friends.” Richard stared at his soup. “It was not until recently that I have come to know him better and…to see him as a man.”

Kaelen stiffened.

“And you, Naradeshi boy? When did your eyes open to Richard here?”

For a moment, Kaelen did not speak. Then?—

“Seven,” he said quietly. “When he rescued me from a pack of Velari.”

Richard’s spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. He turned and, for a heartbeat, saw only Kaelen—wreathed in sunlight that illuminated the dust in his hair, the smudge of broth on his upper lip, and the line of his throat as he swallowed hard.

“I—I should—” Kaelen gave a strangled cough and set his bowl down. “I’ve just remembered—” His voice climbed an octave. “I told Boris I’d check the strap on the bay mare’s harness, and, um, it is rather urgent, so I shall do so directly, if—if you will excuse me?—”

He was on his feet before the sentence finished, almost tripping over the log as he dashed towards the horses.

The group dissolved into delighted howling.

“Oh, the hapless creature?—”

“Did you see his face? Younger lovers, you know?—”

“Oh, friend, I daresay he’s not let you sleep a proper night since you noticed him?—”

“Excuse me.” Richard stood up, pocketing his bread. The soup sloshed in his bowl, and the heat in his face was now a furnace. “I shall go check on the children.”

“Sure thing, sweet! Mind they ain’t getting up to no mischief.”

“Mind lover boy don’t catch you on the way?—”

Richard fled. The path to the spring was no more than thirty paces, and then down a little slope, but he took it with his head down and did not stop until he heard the babble of water. Drawing in a long breath, Richard pressed his palms against his eyes. The warmth from his face seemed to spread through his whole body, and bizarrely, another smile wrenched at his mouth.