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“Well, I knew you’d be up, and there is something I wanted Alarie to share with you,” I replied.
At the mention of her name, the King looked momentarily toward Alarie, giving her a slight nod, before returning his gaze to me.
“Ok, what’s the news?” the King inquired.
“It’s about the news from the north with Lord Garaud,” I replied, reaching my hand toward Alarie and drawing her toward me.
The King’s eyes squinted with a smile at the sight of my fingers interlocked with Alarie’s.
“I need a drink if we are going to talk about the damn north. A drink, Alarie?” the King offered, walking toward the bar at the end of the room.
“Scotch would be great…” Alarie replied confidently, before trailing off, unsure of what to call the King in this situation.
“Grey’s fine,” the King replied with a laugh, picking up on her hesitancy.
It seemed that the King, like Alarie, was already several drinks into his night.
“I’ll take one too, Grey. Thanks for asking,” I jested.
“Get your own drink, old man,” Grey retorted.
I chuckled, walking to the bar where he poured Alarie’s drink, pouring myself a nip of scotch, and walking back to Alarie with both our glasses in hand.
“To the Court, to the King”—I inclined my head toward Grey—“to the Kingdom,” I said, lifting my glass in the air in a toast.
Pride and a rare sense of contentment filled me at the sight of Alarie clinking glasses with my closest friend.
“Ok, what do you have to say then?” the King asked, exasperated, returning to business.
“Well, you know that Lord Dumont has denied any involvement in the incident with Lord Garaud and his family,” I replied.
The King raised his eyebrows, skeptically.
“The thing is, Alarie here knows Don Davante personally. She grew up with him, in fact, and can give some insight into who we are dealing with here.”
The King turned to Alarie, patiently but expectantly.
“Grey,” she began. “I have known Cass—Don Davante—my entire life. He’s one of my closest friends. For what it is worth, I would base my word and my life on the fact that he had absolutely nothing to do with terrorizing Lord Garaud’s family. I’ll go to Cass myself and confirm it if you’d like,” she offered.
Grey looked over at me.
“It makes sense. It does seem quite out of character with all of Don Davante’s other… shenanigans. And you’ve known Lord Dumont for years. It isn’t like him either. And then you have to consider where a lot of our information on this has come from—House Mouchard,” I spat, not trying to hide my plain dislike of High Lady Tragon’s maiden house.
“For fuck’s sake. The stuff with the wall and now this shit,” the King exhaled, ineloquently. “What do you suggest, Jay?”
“You have pushed it off long enough. Like I have been telling you, we need to treat with Lord Dumont.”
“Jay, I know. You’re right, it’s just—” the King paused, remembering that Alarie was still in the room.
Grey turned his gaze toward Alarie, realizing she had witnessed the manner in which I’d spoken to him, totally lacking in any deference, almost admonishing him. I saw the direction and tone of Grey’s gaze and knew the King regretted allowing Alarie to witness the true power dynamic between us and how he often deferred to me. We were good friends and the closest of confidants, but as King, Grey had never quite forgotten the number of people who would have supported me as King over him all those years ago.
“Alarie, I don’t believe we require further assistance from you tonight. I’ll see you back at the manor,” I said, adopting my best high lord impersonation and dismissing her.
Alarie pretended not to have noticed the change of mood.
“Someone will walk you home.” I wasn’t asking. I’d send a whisper for someone to meet her before she could leave the study.
“My King,” Alarie said succinctly, bowing her head and leaving her glass on the table. “My lord,” she gave me a slight nod of her head before departing.
