I am still the person I’ve always been, and the words of an Eletian can’t change that.
It was then that Lil Ambrioth appeared, a faint glimmering standing slightly behind an oblivious petitioner. There was enough of Lil to see her smile, a smile of affirmation of Karigan’s place as a Green Rider.
That was all Lil’s brief appearance allowed. A smile.
The king, true to his word, saw every last petitioner in line. The bell in the city tolling the evening hour, and the darkening sky outside startled Karigan. It was only when she knew the time that she realized how weary and hungry she was.
When the great oak doors shut behind the last petitioner, the king sighed and stood, stretching his arms above his head and stomping his feet to awaken them. For some reason, Karigan found it surprising, and she had to remind herself that her king wasn’t a statue, but flesh and blood like everyone else.
He glanced at her and she straightened. “Relax, Rider, you’ve been standing like that all afternoon.”
She did as he suggested, and found herself stiff and aching.
Sperren, looking more frail than ever, excused himself, pleading exhaustion. The king did not hesitate to give him leave.
“Long day,” Colin said. “I feared it was going to turn nasty there for a while. Good thing Rider G’ladheon found our errant herald.”
“Truly,” the king said.
“Do you wish to discuss the day’s audience, sire?” Colin asked.
“No. I shall reserve it for tomorrow. Get some food and rest, my friend.”
Colin looked relieved and departed with a bow.
The king turned back to Karigan, his hands clasped behind his back. “You wished to speak to me about your message errand.”
“Yes, Excellency. It will take some explaining. I—”
“What happened to you?” he asked suddenly, drawing his eyebrows together. “Have you been injured all this time and I didn’t realize it?”
“Injured?”
Before she could even guess at what he was talking about, he was down the dais and next to her, examining the slash of her sleeve.
“Nothing I can see . . .” he said. “Just a torn sleeve?”
Karigan recovered enough to answer, “Um, yes. In a manner of speaking.”
“In a manner of speaking? Would this be a part of your tale?”
Karigan nodded.
The king sighed. “We need supper before one of us perishes from hunger. While we’re eating, you may tell me of your eventful errand to Childrey.”
With but a flick of his hand, he was surrounded by servants who relieved him of his royal mantle and fillet, handed him a goblet of wine, helped him slip into a dusky blue longcoat, and generally fussed around him. A contingent of Weapons arrived to relieve those who had guarded the king all day in the throne room.
Before Karigan knew it, they were off, exiting the throne room through the side door hidden behind a tapestry. The king set the pace in long strides, as if finally finding some release for all his pent-up energy.
He was leading them to his study. As if anticipating the king’s arrival, the elderly kennel master appeared in the corridor ahead, with three terriers. Upon seeing the king, they barked joyously and strained at their tethers. The kennel master laughed and loosed them. All three dogs bounded to the king, leaping up against his legs, snuffling his feet and sneezing, their short white tails whipping back and forth.
The king laughed, too, shedding his more serious demeanor in exchange for one of pure happiness as he patted heads and scratched behind ears. The sudden transformation took Karigan by surprise, but on reflection, he frequently surprised her.
The Weapons and servants stood by, unruffled by the king’s display and the antics of the terriers. Once the pandemonium died down, they set off again, the terriers trotting at the king’s heels, toenails clicking on the stone floor.
Before arriving at the king’s study, a servant whisked Karigan off into a side chamber where she was provided with a wash basin and towels, and the opportunity to take care of other necessities before she sat to supper.
Her expression must have been dazed, for the servant said, “Don’t worry, dearie, the king will treat you kindly. Why, he often supped with your captain after a day’s work.”
Karigan smiled weakly, and set to washing up.
A simple supper of cold goose, boiled eggs, fresh greens, and bread was laid out on a small table in the study. Weapons remained outside guarding the entrances from the castle corridor and the courtyard gardens.
A couple of servants remained in the study to refill their cups, to carve the goose, and to see to their needs. The three terriers sat on their haunches, watching the proceedings with tongues lolling. One in particular eyed Karigan’s every move, obviously hoping she would drop some morsel on the floor. His interest was unmistakable.
The king chuckled. “It seems Finder the Second has high hopes for you. Don’t give in, for Pyram spoils them atrociously in the kennels.” He then spoke at length about the foibles of his various terriers, much at ease.
Karigan was not.
“Is there something wrong?” he asked.
She jerked her gaze to him, startled to find she had been only half listening to his words.
“You’re picking at your food,” he said.
“I’m fine,” she said. She had been hungry, but now she found she was too nervous to eat.
Nervous? Well, it wasn’t every day one shared a private meal with one’s king.