“He’s not sick, Everly,” Verin replied. “Though… maybe… feeble of mind. That’s a sickness of a sort.”
Everly clambered into her father’s lap and stared intently at Leander. “His brain hurts,” she said after a moment of deliberation while making her own Aesthesic diagnosis.
Leander would have smiled at her blunt delivery of speech and crude understanding of emotions and Aesthesia. As it was, he was in too much pain to pander to his niece.
He just wanted to go to sleep until this is all over.
Verin stared at the top of Leander’s head, as the demigod had fixed his gaze to a spot on the floor. “I think your Uncle Leo deserves to be left alone for now, don’t you agree, Everly?” he intoned.
Through his eyelashes, Leander saw his niece kicking her feet out into the air, coming dangerously close to knocking her toes against the bed, which he knew he wouldn’t tolerate very well right now.
“But… he promised we could go play in the gardens. He’s already late.”
Please, no…
Leander glanced up at his brother, his expression beseeching.
Verin yielded to the look on the demigod’s face. “Perhaps another day, sweetheart. Leander needs to recover.”
“Sorry, Everly.”
“I never realised you had such a penchant for apologising so disingenuously. Even she knows you don’t mean it, and she’s only six. Some God of Lies you are.”
He received a shrug in response, the demigod clearly unable to think of anything else to say.
Verin sighed. “Remain in bed today. Rest and recuperate. I will make your apologies to father.” He paused. “As well as giving an excuse. You owe me.”
“I can manage, Verin—” Leander began to protest.
“And I grow weary of your dishonesty,” the aristocrat interrupted, rearranging Everly to rest on his hip as he stood up from his chair. “This is the only time I will offer you this chance to recover in peace. Next time, I will not be so compassionate. Stay in bed and be grateful I don’t have you mucking out the horses.”
Leander lowered himself back into bed meekly, aware that Verin’s threat was absolute. He would not get a second chance. With the door closing behind his brother and niece, Leander pressed his head into the pillow and closed his eyes, praying sleep would claim him once again… and soon.
Chapter Ten
What had started out as a semi-private audience with the king had brought Flavian Talius, his sons, and a good many other courtiers through the doors of the king’s council chambers, where Caisa had initially received Leander.
Leander had been summoned by the king late afternoon a few days later, luckily after he’d had enough time to sleep off his alcohol-fuelled headache from the night before. Leander had diligently avoided drugs since his dressing down from Verin, sticking to drinking instead.
Now, however, he was sober, and had been enjoying the opportunity to get to know Vyrica’s monarch without the ears of every single Saerian courtier listening in.
“This cannot go on, Your Majesty,” Flavian stormed through the door, stopping Leander mid-sentence as he spoke to the king. Flavian cast his gaze over his youngest son and obviously decided not to apologise for his interruption.
Leander decided to stay quiet, given the irate look already on his father’s face. He did not need Flavian’s anger turned on him, not with an impressionable audience, as other members of the council had trailed in behind his father.
“What do you mean, Lord Talius?” Caisa looked over his steepled fingers in mild interest.
Leander had to keep from flinching as Flavian fixed him with a stare. The air was suddenly thick with animosity, a palpable hostility that had been building for weeks.
Turning away, Flavian bowed towards the king and announced that he had already requested Prince Jarryn’s presence, and then explained the situation: the very imminent reality of King Nevari’s threatened invasion into Vyrican lands.
“Perhaps Leander should return home, Father?” Venser suggested.
“No,” Caisa interrupted Leander’s turn to leave. “His insight may be of some use to us. Lord Leander stays.”
It didn’t take long for Prince Jarryn to arrive, escorted by none other than Prince Lucien. If Jarryn was surprised to see so many people gathered there waiting for him, he didn’t show it.
Flavian made short and efficient work of bringing Jarryn up to speed. The prince nodded, his expression growing darker the more he spoke. The reason for the impending invasion was Jarryn himself. The prince had been accused of regicide and Nevari wanted his brother brought to justice for his crime. The fact that Vyrica was harbouring the prince in Saeren threatened to break what was once a very strong bond between the two kingdoms.
