“I swear, this job will be the death of me,” Eoin mutters. “He’s such a calm person. How can he get caught up in things that make me want to cry?”
“It’s a sporting event,” I say patiently, not for the first time. “It’s good for him to be social, and it’s good for the community to get involved in sports. You had fun last night, admit it.”
He grumbles a bit more, but grudgingly nods. “I don’t mind the event as much as the part where he insists on walking through the crowds. It makes it so much harder to protect him when there are people pressing up against him.”
That makes my skin crawl too. “Could we talk him into controlled meet-and-greets? Something a little more structured than him just walking out into a mass of strangers.”
“Eoin,” the barista calls, and we go to get our drinks.
“Maybe,” Eoin says a minute later as we’re crossing the street. “We’d need to phrase it right, but even if it doesn’t completely stop the crowd-wandering, it might reduce it.”
We throw around some ideas for how to manage that as we ride the elevators back up to our floor, and then I leave Eoin to make kissy faces with Dáithí while I head back to my desk.
I’m just about to enter the security office when the door behind me—Raðulfr’s door—opens.
“Oh good, Ari. I was coming to find you.”
Because it’s always a good thing when the leader of your species and your ultimate boss unexpectedly comes in search of you. Mustering a smile, I turn around. “What can I help you with, sir?” Please say hockey tickets.
Instead, he steps back and holds the door wide. “Please come in. I wanted a word.”
Even better. Keeping my face neutral, I follow him into his office and wait while he closes the door and goes to sit… in one of the armchairs over by the window. That means it’s not going to be a quick, business-related conversation.
I take the chair opposite and set my coffee cup on the table between us.
“Don’t let that go cold,” he says. “I know how much caffeine you all drink.”
A little of my tension unravels. He wouldn’t be making jokes about my caffeine intake if I’d done something wrong. Maybe he just wants an informal update on the outreach program.
“I had a wonderful time at the game last night,” he begins, and I relax even more.
“So did I. With all the changes the Warhammers have made, they’re going to be a team to reckon with this year.” I hope. As Felix informed me, it’s still too early to tell.
“That would be fortuitous for our partnership with them,” the king says, then smiles with a twinkle in his eyes. “And also for your Felix.”
It’s only that twinkle that keeps me from going cold all over. If he thought my relationship with Felix was dividing my focus, he wouldn’t be smiling… would he?
“It would be great for Felix,” I agree and then force myself to say, “He’s not my Felix, though.”
In a blink, Raðulfr’s smile is gone, replaced by sadness. “He isn’t? That’s not the impression I got. You two are so good together.”
I hesitate, not sure what I’m supposed to say. Felix and Iaregood together. That doesn’t change anything, though. “Felix is… amazing. I very much enjoy the time we spend together.” Such a lackluster, colorless way to describe how being with him makes me feel. “My commitments to my people take precedence, though, and always will. I won’t waver in keeping the promises I made.”
If anything, that just makes Raðulfr look sadder. He sighs and shakes his head, then leans forward and meets my gaze.
“Ari, your promise to serve and defend your people doesn’t preclude you having a personal life.”
“I know,” I reply, surprised. “If it did, I wouldn’t be dating Felix.”
He grimaces like he’s tasted something sour. “Yet you’re always very quick to make it clear that there’s nothing serious between you. Last night, Riley mentioned that Felix has told his family the same thing.”
Why’s that so bad? “Felix and I understand each other and agree on what we want.”
The king snorts. “According to Riley, Jared, and Dáithí, Felix wants a romance for the ages. He wants to be loved, and he wants a committed boyfriend. None of them understand what the two of you are doing.”
My spine is so stiff, it could double as a flagpole. Felix wants romantic love? It’s something I could so easily give him, exceptIcan’t. “We’ve talked about what we can offer each other. He knows I can’t promise the future, and when he’s ready to move on, he will.” And I’ll be left behind, broken.
“Butwhycan’t you promise the future?”
