A small gathering waited on the steps of the palace entrance, Fyar at the top, Killian at his side, and a smattering of other palace officials congregated behind him. Kade and Porthos and Hokda among them.
There were bruises under Kade’s eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping.
It had been nearly a week since Killian had taken Kade into the city. They hadn’t spoken since. Kade hadn’t come to Killian’s room and Killian hadn’t gone looking for him in the infirmary. They stayed on their respective sides of the palace and dove into their work. Avoiding each other and their problems.
Killian could apologize. He knew Kade would forgive him, but…he wouldn’t mean it. He wasn’t really sorry. What could he have done differently?
If Killian hadn’t stopped Kade, hadn’t shut down that line of conversation, where would they be now? Broken. Their relationship irreparable. There would be no going back from Kade’s rejection. Not ever.
There was no winning here. No right choice.
Killian held his breath when Kade looked up and their eyes met across the distance.
Kade’s expression pinched, and he turned away.
Killian winced.
Porthos was bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager and excited. The apprentice was perhaps the only one who was.
Fyar was collected and effortlessly calm, though Killian knew how the king dreaded this. He was doing his duty, greeting hisesteemed and honoredguests on the steps of the palace, as was tradition. Chin held high, the king stayed carefully still.
Prince Lyra Yvylr was grace and poise, even after a long week of riding from the western province of Surr and his remote forest estate right along the border to the human kingdom of Avaan. He wore shining golden robes that matched his hair and a dazzling smile.
Killian thought he looked like the sun. Like summer embodied. The opposite to Fyar’s icy winter.
The prince looked much like his brother, bright blue eyes and tanned skin. They could almost be twins.
Lyra bowed low after swinging off of his horse. “Your Majesty. It’s been too long.”
Fyar only said, “You’re early.”
“Only a couple days. It’s not often that I get to return to Ingara. I have to take advantage.” Lyra bounded up the stairs, skipping steps until he stood in front of Fyar. Killian tensed, he didn’t like them being so close. But Lyra’s expression was soft. He smiled.“It’s good to see you, cousin. Truly. You look well.”
“Lies and flattery,” said Fyar. “You always thought kings of Netyere looked creepy. Like ghosts, you always said.”
Lyra laughed. “True. But you wear it well.”
“I’ll try to take that as a compliment.”
“You should. I meant it as one.”
The two stared at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. One not even Killian could understand. It took him by surprise, the open sadness on Lyra’s face.
Fyar said, “Your room is as you left it. Porthos will show you the way, in case you forgot.”
Surprise flashed across the prince’s face. “It is?”
“Of course.” Fyar turned away. “Go now. Rest. You must be tired after your journey.”
Lyra opened his mouth, but thought better of it. He bowed, and turned to greet his brother. They embraced, clapping each other on the back and crowing happily.
Kade stood next to them, awkwardly shuffling and wringing his hands until he was introduced along with Taiga.
Killian ground his teeth when Kade and the prince shook hands.
The air was all but crackling around Fyar. A wrongness about him that was rolling off him in waves.
Killian stepped close, Fyar’s back pressed to his shoulder. He spoke lowly into the king’s ear, so the dissipating crowd couldn’t hear. “Alright?”
