Even if Marek and Vanawereevil mages just biding their time, they probably wouldn’t abduct and torture Kazia at a diplomatic function.
Across the room, Lucien is still talking to Audric, while Corin plays with his perfect, precise light magic. Julien and Whisper haven’t emerged from the side door, though Julien’s guard captain looks more resigned than worried.
“I’m not surprised you did well, you know,” Vana says, his words hideously earnest. “You’re going to be a far better king than I would have been.”
Kazia shifts his weight. “I have plenty of help.”
Marek rolls his eyes. “Stop being nice, Vana. You’re freaking him out.”
“Thank you, Marek.” Kazia holds out the plate of tiny cakes. “Finally. Lucien has escaped the evil Silaisan clutches.”
Marek takes the plate from him. “You do remember Lucien is Silaisan.”
“He’s not Silaisan,” Kazia says without thinking. “He’s mine.”
The words arrive without his permission. Kazia flees before he can see either of his brother’s expressions.
Except Lucien doesn’t belongentirelyto Kazia yet. Seeing his brothers today is a stark reminder of that. Kazia wants to fix that, if Lucien will let him.
The crowd parts, and in the next breath, Kazia stands in front of Lucien’s fire-bright grin.
Lucien reaches out. “Did you miss me?”
Kazia takes his hand. “You wish.”
“I missed you.” Lucien’s hand envelopes Kazia’s. “Do you want to get out of here, Your Majesty?”
“Please.”
***
They don’t go far—just a quick dragonflight to a nearby river. Tezurit plays in the water, soaking her iridescent, quartz-studded harness.
Kazia stands out of splashing range, the wind cool in his helmet-mussed hair. The surrounding forest is lush, golden with autumn, bright with the last of the summer-green leaves hanging from black branches. This close to the Silaisan border, the influence of scalestone isn’t as great.
There’s so much of his country he hasn’t seen yet. He loves discovering new pieces of it with Lucien.
“Feeling better?” Lucien asks, looping an arm around him.
“Mhm.” Kazia leans closer. He hadn’t realized he was getting overwhelmed until Lucien rescued him. That’s the sort of thing Kazia’s always been better at recognizing in other people than himself.
“What are you thinking about?” Lucien asks.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.” But Lucien knows when to push, and when to wait. Now he rubs idle patterns along Kazia’s arm until Kazia sighs.
“It’s a terrible idea,” Kazia warns.
Lucien kisses the top of his head. “I like terrible ideas.”
There are normal terrible ideas, like ceremonially burning the late queen’s harp and turning her chambers into a massive rat palace. Or agreeing to host a trio of young fellcats for a cultural exchange program.
Then there are extremely terrible ideas, like this. “I just think it’s very disorganized that House Dire’s symbol is the dragon, but we’ve always had storm magic. Wouldn’t fire be more appropriate?”
Leaves rustle in the afternoon breeze. The river murmurs around the leaping dragon.
Lucien spins Kazia to face him. “Say it clearly, brat.”
