“Is that so?” Caisa said drily, a mirthless smile playing on his lips. “We don’t have much to do with Eamore generally. I had no idea they have such distaste for our way of life. Lord Talius, is this something we can ameliorate?”
“Not easily, my King,” Flavian said, his eyes never leaving Jarryn’s face, “unless you propose to funnel my healthcare fund into housing and education for countless displaced souls.”
“What a shame that would be my friend. No, that, it seems, is a conundrum for another day.” The king seemed utterly dispassionate. “Okay, Eamore’s moral compass aside, what are the problems?”
Leander chanced a glance over to Jarryn, who looked as serene as ever, though Leo had an inkling that he was less than impressed by the king’s blasé attitude towards the less fortunate individuals under his rule.
But Jarryn had a certain look about him. There was not roguish charm—he was too proper to be described as such. Instead, he exuded authority, his lips pursed into a delicate expression. He wondered what it would be like to taste those lips. Leander had to remind himself that he was in a public setting, and crawling over the table to present his body to a man who hated him would be… frowned upon.
“I’ve heard rumours of covert movements on theborders. We must bolster our defences,” Flavian said promptly. “And our intelligence network needs strengthening. We can’t afford to be blindsided.”
Caisa nodded, deep in thought. “Are your sons up to the challenge?” he asked Flavian, as his gazed passed over the twins sitting to Leander’s right.
“They will not disappoint.”
Verin and Venser both nodded fervently. The demigod had no doubt that they would give everything for the integrity and safety of their home. With formidable skills, Leander could only agree with his father’s assessment.
“The soldier and the diplomat: our most accomplished Aesthesics. See that you don’t.”
Verin took his opportunity to speak. “We must address the underlying grievances fuelling dissent. A diplomatic approach could prevent all-out war.”
“Given that the cause of said ‘underlying grievances’ is sitting in this room, what do you suggest, Verin? Once again we must ask ourselves: do we return Prince Jarryn to Nevari? Rescind our protection?” Caisa said.
Every eye fell on Jarryn, who looked at the king without twitching. “Lord Verin raises a valid point. My brother is young and untrained in the ways of ruling, but he is a reasonable man. A summit may just ease tensions.”
Flavian leaned forward. “But we can’t afford to be naïve. I still propose strengthening our military presence along vulnerable borders.”
“And announce to the world that we are ready for war?” Prince Lucien spoke up, having watched words being batted this way and that. “We, with that plan, invite invasion. Our defences have long been intact. I see no reason tobe hasty in an effort to strengthen borders that have been free of threat for hundreds of years.”
“That was before our strongest ally threatened them, my Prince.” Flavian’s tone was bordering on the condescending.
Their discourse deepened, with Lucien, Flavian, and Verin at the helm, adjudicated by the king and with suggestions (or more like rebuttals) from Jarryn every so often. A plan emerged: a delicate balance of diplomacy and military strength.
“Covert operations to dismantle any subversive elements could buy us time as well. Stealth and precision are our friends in this matter,” Verin finally added when there was a lull in the conversation.
“Nevari will be expecting that,” Jarryn said as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“You’ve said that about nigh on every suggestion someone has provided,” Leander finally exploded—drawing himself out of his thoughts about fucking Jarryn if only to be rid of the lecherous images in his mind—after elliptical conversations abounded. “What, then, do you propose we do?”
“We?” Jarryn intoned, his voice bored but his piercing and intense gaze was so sharp it could cut through its surroundings. “You’re one of us now?”
“The realms of gods and mortals are intwined, whether you like it or not. Surely you are not so obtuse as to not see it.”
“Leander—”
“No, Verin, he needs tostop.” Leander turned back to his quarry, eyes flashing with frustration. “Your high andmighty attitude blinds you to the bigger picture. I am not your enemy, and you know nothing of the irritants that plague my worldview.” A bitter laugh escaped Leander, ringing out through the otherwise silent hall. “Tell me, how does it feel to know you will never rule over your realm, that your throne and crown comfortably fits another?”
“At least my kingdom doesn’t have to deal with your insufferable presence. You wouldn’t last a day without the protection of your father to coddle you. You’re nothing but a spoiled brat with divine blood.”
Leander couldn’t help but notice just how captivating the prince looked when he was impassioned by something. Would that his barbed words were not directed at him, he would have enjoyed spending hours watching Jarryn engage in an enchanting, stirring soliloquy about that which he cared for most.
“And you are clearly a spineless heir who wasn’t strong enough to fight for his throne, are hiding behind your wealth and your guards. Your incompetence is astounding.” Leander hissed.
“At least I’m not the product of some divine fling. Your very existence is a mockery of true achievement. Look at yourself. You dance to the whims of your immortal heritage as if you are worthy by mere virtue of the circumstances of your birth. But you’re not, are you? They cast you out.” Jarryn’s smile was almost feral, his regal mask had slipped away for the first time.
“The same could be said of you. That circlet atop your head is nothing more than a ridiculous symbol of your own inadequacy.”
“Enough!” Caisa’s voice thundered through the hall.
