Page 19 of His King Enslaved

“The groundwork has been laid. They immediately withdrew their most recent terms for reconsideration. Goddess knows what they’ll throw at us now.” Patel wearily climbed onto the stool to pour himself a drink. “Well, at least you have his interests at heart.”

“I want to woo him,” Sindar said.

Pate’s quiet acceptance vanished. “Have you gone mad?” he asked, pausing his pour to glare at Sindar. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate that is?”

“Why?” Sindar countered. “He’s not allowed to touch anyone else. Who else is he going to make love to?”

“Sweet goddess in heaven. You daft boy. A Flower has freedom in one regard: their heart. Do you really expect him to pretend it’s yours? At least have the decency to keep your relationship professional! What happens when your brother wakes up?”

For the first time, doubt tugged at Sindar’s heart. He hadn’t considered any of that. He’d only thought of… well. Himself. “Well, damn,” he said. “I’m in love with him. What am I supposed to do?”

“I told you, you’re not in love! This is proof! You’re selfish. You lack empathy. It’s not love, it’s obsession. Let’s say he reciprocates, and you actually win his heart. What happens when Xandar returns, and Ardor is once again wed to a consort who cares nothing for him? Can you even conceive how devastating that would be?”

“Selfish people fall in love all the time. Stop diminishing my experience,” Sindar said, turning his nose up, trying to make light of it all even as a leaden weight settled in his stomach. Patty was right. He really hadn’t thought this through.

Patel sighed. “You understand the problem. Good.”

The lead in Sindar’s stomach grew heavier still. How could he have been so blind? Voicing such things would only give his mentor satisfaction, so Sindar pivoted to new business, and the conversation quickly moved on. Nevertheless, Patel’s words stayed in the back of his mind, poking and prodding, keeping him up at night.

Xandar could not, under any circumstances, resume his place atop the ruby throne. If Ardor warmed to him and Xandar returned, his brother would be the undeserving recipient of that warmth. The thought of Xandar so much as looking at his Flower sent Sindar’s heart into jealous spasms and drew a thick, painful lump to his throat.

Xandar had to be dealt with, and waiting for someone to slip up and reveal his location was getting him nowhere. Bani wouldn’t budge, and Patty had neatly tied up every loose end. The guards accompanying Xandar that night had been reassigned, and the staff were clueless. There was only one person left: the doctor who attended Xandar after the accident. That doctor monitored his brother’s condition and reported back to Patel.

The place kept five physicians on staff, and Sindar couldn’t show up at the infirmary and start asking them all weird questions. The surest way to find the doctor was to have an accident of his own. A big one. Something serious enough that he would be taken to the same trusted physician without delay.

So Sindar fell off his horse. In the most spectacular way possible.

It wasn’t easy. The hit to his pride was almost too much to bear, and that wasn’t the only part of him that got pummeled. The injury had to be believably severe, which meant it had to hurt. Sindar had a vague memory of getting clotheslined by a branch when he was very young. The pain, as he recalled, was manageable.

Oh, what a traitor the mind was! If he hadn’t taken a good sniff of coca prior, he might have really been sorry. As it was, he was only mostly sorry. He took a branch across his chest while cantering, flew off his horse, and landed on his back in the dirt. His guards hurriedly deposited his aching body on a litter, and as he lay there, nearly blind with pain, his only salve was that no one would ever believe a man in his right mind would do such a stupid thing on purpose.

They took him to Doctor Jain. She seemed familiar, and he struggled to place her as throbbing pain washed over aching body. As they deposited him on the bed, he noted this was no ordinary examination room. The doctor’s office contained many scientific instruments, and the shelf was brimming with thick textbooks. This doctor was a scientist and a physician.

Jain examined him silently. When his guards left, she lifted her eyes and said, “You shouldn’t be so reckless, Your Majesty. Put aside your pride. The King of Kysan is not known for his riding ability.”

“I’m better than everyone thinks,” he said, despite all evidence to the contrary. “Is this what happened last time? I don’t remember the accident.”

She ignored the question. “You should not ride so much. It’s reckless.” She pressed down firmly on his chest, and he winced. “Amazingly, you’ve only suffered deep bruising and possibly a mild concussion.”

Finally, he placed her. She was the doctor who attended the breeding ceremonies. He was so consumed by Ardor’s presence that it was a wonder he remembered her at all. “You’re Ardor’s doctor.”

“I am His Eminence’s personal physician,” she said, her tone mildly corrective.

“How is he?”

She gave him another look, this time more pointed. “Your Majesty, it’s not appropriate to discuss other patients with you, regardless of your station.”

“Is he happy?”

“He will be, when he’s pregnant. Lift your right arm.”

Sindar obeyed, suspecting she only asked him to do it because it was painful. “I want to protect him.”

“I should hope so.”

“From everyone. Even kings. If you know of any threat, any at all, would you tell me?”

She lowered his arm. “You have a head injury, Your Majesty. I appreciate you are likely confused.”