“Let me take care of that for you, Your Majesty,” a squeaky voice interrupted the king’s dark thoughts.
He turned to find a young stablehand with his arm outstretched, hoping to take the brush from King Hethtar. He handed it over. “Thank you, young man. And what is your name?”
“Berim, Sir!” The boy grinned.
Ehmet’s already wilted heart withered. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Berim. With a name like that, you’re sure to go far.”
Confused, the stableboy smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
The king trudged around the front of the building to enter via the main door. The ground floor of the Crown & Quill was bustling with patrons, both guests and locals who wandered in for a bite to eat. Parosh was in the middle of accepting room keys from the innkeeper when King Hethtar came up behind him.
“Y— Your Majesty,” the innkeeper sputtered.
Shit.He’d meant to remove his cloak outside. It wasn’t that he was trying to travel undercover, he wasn’t. He would’ve taken a discreet mount and not his giant warhorse who stood a head above the rest if that was the case. He also wouldn’t have worn his hot and heavy woolen cloak if he was trying to remain mysterious. But hehadintended to ditch it and enter the inn a bit more unassumingly, so as not to stress the staff and rile the other guests. King Hethtar pressed his lips into a thin smile and nodded to the innkeeper.
“Your Majesty! Is that you?” A small gray whirlwind spun to a stop in front of him.
“Mrs. Gulan, what a pleasant surprise!” The kingwassurprised, but pleasantly was debatable. Seeing the retired merchant woman, and her husband, who was waving excitedly from his table in the corner, brought on a cavalcade of memories from the symposium. Images of Saka, of Hevva, flashed through his mind again, though she was never far. King Hethtar ground his teeth.
“Why are you staying here?” She watched as the innkeeper handed a key to Parosh, then she swung her gaze up to meet her king's. “You know you have a standing invitation to stay at our home.”
The innkeeper balked at her forward nature.
“I didn’t want to impose. This was a last-minute trip,” he explained.
“It’s not an imposition. We’re friends, Your Highness. Are we not? Having you as a guest would feel far better on the soul than letting you stay at this foul establishment!”
The king snorted.
Catching onto the fact that they were, in fact, friends, and King Hethtar was no one to be afraid of, the innkeeper grumbled, “Foul?! Tell me then, why do you dine here four nights a week, Mrs. Gulan?”
He chuckled, and the two locals laughed as well, their banter clearly the norm for this crew in Kashoorcih. “Truly, Mrs. Gulan—”
“Shilan, please,” she corrected.
“Shilan, thank you for your hospitable offer, but I am happy to stay here for the one night. I wouldn’t want to impose with my traveling party.
“I understand,” she said with a smile. “Do you at least have the time to come sit with us for a catch up?”
“Of course,” he replied in an even tone, but inside, he was singing, belting out a happy chorus. Until Shilan spun to a stop in front of him, he hadn’t realized how much he craved friendship and a non-political conversation.
“Come.” She grabbed his giant hand. “You look like you could use a big drink and good conversation. Maybe, a good drink and a big conversation. Or a bit of both?”
He inclined his head, hiding a smile at how spot on she was, and let himself be led to their table.
“So glad to see you, Your Majesty,” Teymour greeted the king, eyes crinkling with glee.
“You as well, Mr. Gulan.”
“Please, call me Tey. We’ve stayed in your home, perhaps we could consider first names?”
“Don’t mind him. We’ve had a few drinks already.”
He chuckled.Manypeople stayed in his home. However, he couldn’t help but agree with the man’s sentiment. “It’s quite all right, Tey. Please, call me Ehmet.”
“Ehmet,” Shilan tested out his name.
King Hethtar smiled and accepted a glass of whiskey that a server delivered to the table.
