As he was about to ask, he lifted his gaze beyond the table, and all the words flew from his brain. The balcony provided a perfect view of Onisa. Fading sunlight gilded the sleepy city while gas lamps popped on to chase away the encroaching shadows. Even from a distance, he could see little architectural differences between Onisa and Frostbourne. The buildings of Branem had intricate gingerbread wood trim, while Wulia’s stone buildings featured more iron and metalwork. Pine treescradled the edges of the massive city in a warm embrace, making this vibrant capital seem like a magical secret.
“Oh, my word. How amazing,” Hugo whispered. He rushed forward to the balcony railing to get as clear a look as possible.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, definitely,” Hugo replied without thinking. “It’s not what I was imagining at all.” He ripped his eyes away to stare at the person who’d spoken to find King Victor standing a few feet away from him, a hint of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth.
“Oh, gods!” he gasped. “Your Highness—I mean, Your Majesty! I’m sorry. I didn’t see you—no! I mean I—” Hugo lurched back and threw his body into a deep bow to cover for the idiotic babbling that kept pouring out of his mouth, but a powerful hand caught his shoulder, stopping him sharply.
“Well, that answers that question,” the king muttered under his breath.
“What?” The word slipped out, and Hugo was once again cursing himself. He had absolutely no control over his tongue. If Wulian and Branem went to war, it would be because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
The firm hand holding his shoulder eased Hugo upright to face the king’s smirk.
“I was wondering if Captain Ryze’s assessment of you was wrong. That you weren’t really the prince’s fiancé, but a highly trained bodyguard or assassin who was merely disguised as a bumbling commoner to fool my guards. However, after saving you from nearly bashing your skull on the rim of that stone planter you didn’t even notice, I’m inclined to agree with Captain Ryze.”
Hugo’s face was so hot, it was practically melting. He lowered his eyes and swallowed hard. He hadn’t seen the planter. His useless brain was too busy being horrified at overlooking the freaking king. And now the same king thought he was abumbling fool. While he might not care for the adjective, it felt safer than being thought of as an assassin.
“Not all of us were meant to be brave and dashing like you or Prince Everand or even Captain Ryze. Some of us were meant to bumble, and that’s fine. We have our place in this world too.”
Just not among royalty, though,Hugo tacked on silently.
“Forgive me, Mr. Baker. I didn’t mean to be insulting,” King Victor said, releasing his shoulder. “Besides, I think bumbling has nothing to do with whether a person is brave or dashing. From what I understand, you’ve been remarkably brave in the face of great danger.”
“Thank you. I…” Hugo had no idea what to say. Things were feeling so awkward, and he was afraid of making things worse. He needed a neutral topic. He swung back around to face Onisa, waving one hand broadly. “You have an exquisite city. I wish I could see more…um…” He trailed off when he realized he was unintentionally poking at the man who was holding him hostage. That wasn’t his goal. As panic rose in his chest, a low, rusty rumble of laughter escaped the king.
“I’m glad you like it. Maybe it would be best if we sat down to dinner,” he suggested with a twist of his hand to the table behind them.
“Yes, dinner. That would be wonderful.” If his mouth was stuffed with food, he wouldn’t be able to keep putting his foot in it.
As they turned to the table, a pair of servants crossed from the shadows to pull their chairs out. Another set filled glasses with water and wine, while more set bowls of creamy soup in front of them. At the first bite, Hugo’s taste buds were happily humming and dancing in his mouth. It was a warm, creamy potato soup—familiar but with an assortment of herbs that made it different enough from anything he’d ever tasted.
Yet, that deliciousness faded a heartbeat later to sour his stomach. His smile fell away, and he found he couldn’t lift his spoon again.
“Is something wrong? Do you not like it? I can have the kitchen make something else,” the king offered so quickly, Hugo’s head spun.
“No, please. This is perfect. It tastes amazing. But…I feel guilty. I’m here to protect Prince Everand and help him, yet I’m sitting with you, looking at this breathtaking view of the city, eating this wonderful food—notthat the food I had earlier in the dungeon was bad. I…” Hugo ran out of steam and sighed softly.
King Victor motioned for a servant to come closer. “Every course that is served to me and Mr. Baker this evening, I want served to Prince Everand as well, in the same style and portion size.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The servant bobbed a curtsy and darted off.
Hope bloomed in Hugo’s chest. At least he knew Everand was getting some comfort, and the prince would know that Hugo was being well taken care of.
“Would you be willing to move Prince Everand out of the dungeon and to a room similar to mine?” Hugo inquired.
King Victor’s warm expression froze over. “Don’t press your luck. Eat your soup before it gets cold.”
Hugo dutifully picked up his spoon and resumed eating his soup. “This wasn’t what I was expecting when I learned I was to have dinner with you.”
“Really? You were expecting something more extravagant?”
“No, but I was expecting more people. I figured it would be a state dinner with politicians and ministers. People there to tell me all the ways Branem was horrible and that I should plead with King Hubert to concede to all your demands.”
King Victor arched one silvery eyebrow. “Would you have preferred that? I can have it arranged for tomorrow.”
Hugo stiffened, his eyes wide. The king appeared absolutely serious. It took Hugo another moment to catch the hint of mischief in the tilt of his lips and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. “No, thank you, Your Majesty. This is much more enjoyable.”
