King Niam spoke then. “Emperor Soland tried to take by force what we would have justly offered out of friendship. Delletina is willing to discuss the possibility of joining the empire, but that is a topic for another day. I’m attending merely as a courtesy for offering my support.”
One by one, the commanders of the five kingdoms swore their allegiance to the new emperor.
A magistrate waited for Draylon and Yarif in the corridor. “Forgive me, Your Majesties, but I must speak with you on a most delicate matter.”
Draylon looked around. None here but them. “Then speak.”
“I hope I’m not being indelicate, but in light of the king consort’s recent abduction at the hand of our enemies…” The magistrate turned apologetic eyes toward the floor.
How dare the man act as though Yarif weren’t standing right there. “What of it?” Draylon growled.
“Sir, it’s the law for anyone who’s been under the influence of our enemies to be marked as a possible threat.”
A tattoo like Rufe’s? “You can’t be serious.”
“But I am, Majesty. It’s the law.”
Over Draylon’s dead body would Yarif be so marked, bearing the humiliation of something that wasn’t his fault, as Rufe had done over the years. “He wasn’t taken by enemies, but by my father’s instructions, by our people. You’ll not mark him.” Draylon rested a hand on his sword.
“No, you shall not,” came a new voice from down the corridor. Avestan strode toward them, resplendent in the formal purple robes of his station, every inch of his bearing proclaiming him emperor. “It’s ghastly, and I forbid it. One of my first acts will be to outlaw the practice.”
Draylon could’ve kissed his brother. So many wrongs could be righted with an emperor who cared for his people. He recalled Yarif’s consort training at the hands of priests. “Later, I want to talk to you about a few more practices to abolish.”
“I’ll await your input, brother.” With that, Avestan continued on his way.
When Draylon turned back around, the magistrate had fled. He couldn’t save Rufe from the torment, but he’d save anyone unlucky enough to be captured from this day forward. He suddenly found himself with his arms full of Yarif.
“Thank you, Dray. I’ve long thought those tattoos horrible and worried if I’d be made to wear one.”
That was the first time Draylon recalled Yarif calling him Dray. The familiarity warmed him. “Don’t worry. You’ve been forced to do many things against your will. Never again.” Draylon meant every word.
“I am very sorry about your father,” Yarif said, following Draylon into their shared bed chamber. “He went for Avestan, too close for me to use my sword. I just… reacted… and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Draylon assured him. “You did all you could. Avestan knows that and so do I. Father did you nothing but wrong. And if you can forgive me for killing your father, I’m in no position to blame you for killing mine."
He shrugged, hoping the gesture looked casual. Draylon’s feelings for his father were… complicated and would take time to work out. “He took away others’ right to choose and followed his stubborn path.” Would the news bother Mother overly much? Avestan would see to her comfort as she gave up the role of empress for a dowager cottage. Maybe she’d even settle with one of her many lovers. She was resilient. She’d survive.
As would the empire.
“Still, losing a father, even a bad one, is painful. But he took away your choices. Would you change your circumstances now?” Yarif kept his voice low.
Draylon took his consort, his lover, his spouse, into his arms. “He may have brought me here and arranged for me to marry you, but I didn’t lie when I took my vows. Of my own free will, I married you. Of my own free will, I love you.” He brought his mouth down on Yarif’s, gratified when Yarif kissed back with equal fervor. Breathlessly, Draylon withdrew, stroking a finger down the side of Yarif’s face. “Make no mistake. I’m with you because I want to be. Because I couldn’t imagine myself anywhere else. I never wanted to be king, but with you by my side, I might not bring Renvalle to ruin.”
“You won’t. You’ll make a far better king than I ever could. You’ll be a good king. Youarea good king. Already you’ve made changes that have been needed for ages.” Yarif rested his head against Draylon’s shoulder.
After a few moments of calm, Yarif ventured, “It might cause quite the scandal back in Cormir, but the Renvallian custom is to cremate our dead as soon as possible after their deaths. May sincerely apologized for accidentally ordering the same for Emperor Soland.”
Thus removing the evidence of how the man died. Now to make up for lost time, comforting Yarif.
A knock sounded on the door. Heaving a sigh, Draylon opened the door to find a guard poised with fist raised, ready to knock again. “Forgive me, Commander, um, Your Highness, um…”
“We both know who you’re talking to. Get on with it.” Draylon tried not to growl, he really did, but this intrusion took him away from the man he seriously wanted to bed.
“Begging your pardons, but Emperor Avestan wants to see King Consort Yarif. Alone.”
What now?
Chapter Thirty-eight
