He froze. “Stavros isawake?”
After all these weeks, he’d given up hope that the man would ever wake. He’d almost forgotten about him entirely.
The page nodded. “Awake and issuing many orders, My Lord.”
Of course he was. “Thank you.”
Less than a minute later, Dimitrios’s boots echoed against the polished stone floor of the atrium. The high windows spilled late-afternoon light across the room in golden streaks.
There, resting by the fountain, was the man himself.
Stavros stood to greet Dimitrios with a deep nod. “Your Majesty.”
Salidis looked like a vulture who’d been asked to dress for Court. His pale gray robes hung on a now-skeletal frame.
“As happy as I am to see you, Stavros, I would have gladly come to your chambers.”
He sat with a groan and creak of bone. “I’ve been stuck in those rooms for three days. I heard you were returning and wanted to greet you.” He motioned at the room at large. “This was as far as I could make it.”
“I’ll find someone to help you back. You shouldn’t have pushed yourself.”
Stavros loosed a deep breath and reclined. “First, we have some catching up to do. I’ve heard about how you’ve handled things in my absence. You’ve done well for yourself. You must be very proud.”
“I’m…” Dimitrios sat on the fountain’s edge and threaded his fingers across his thigh. “I’m tired, if you want the truth.”
Stavros nodded. “It won’t get any better, I’m afraid. Especially now that my official determination has been sent to all the provincial lords as of this afternoon. In lieu of an absent council, I thought that would be the best course of action.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I’ve gone this long; a few more weeks wouldn’t have hurt anyone.”
Dimitrios didn’t want to say that it was also unnecessary in light of recent events. A vote would be sufficient.
“I didn’t really have a choice in the matter,” Stavros said. “Your Head of House insisted on it.”
For what felt like an eternity, he could only stare. “…Milonia?”
“She waited all of one night to arrive at my bedside with paper and ink, then penned every letter on my behalf. All I had to do was sign. She took them to the rookery herself this afternoon.”
Dimitrios’s heart slammed once—hard—against his ribs. “Is she still here? They haven’t left yet?”
“They?”
“Milonia and her son, Caius. I ordered her to leave days ago.”
Before the battle. The pass had been a mess ever since. She probably had to wait even longer for it to clear.
Dimitrios stood so fast that his head swam. “Thank you, Stavros. I will send someone to fetch you momentarily. Are you all right here until then?”
Stavros blinked rapidly, his brows knitted together. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. I just?—”
He just…what?
Dimitrios could hardly breathe around his racing heart. For seven days, he’d played arguments in his mind. Reunions, both good and bad. He’d pictured every version: her denial, her confession, her tearful silence.
Fury warred with hope, because he was also—stupidly—in love with her. All he really wanted, what he needed, was an explanation. What exactly did her father want? What had she given him, and what changed her mind? Why had she put herself on the line that day?
But then he remembered… He’d told her in no uncertain terms to go. And she had no reason to believe he’d softened to her since.
