King by R. J. Larson Page B

Ela of Parne—after he’d long cherished a most tender and hidden admiration for her. She refused to marry him—first, because she wishes to never marry, and second, because she loves you !”
    Oh. Well, now Akabe’s disappointment made sense.
    Sounding offended, Trillcliff muttered, “If the prophet didn’tlove you, and if he had married her , we wouldn’t be fretting about this Atean queen now.”
    Almost prim, Piton murmured, “Conversely, had he known you’d offered marriage to the prophet, my lord, and that she loves you, the king would never have suffered such sharp distress. He would have honored your friendship—as he did the instant he realized the situation.”
    Nodding, Faine added, “If you two hadn’t kept the true nature of your relationship a secret, there’d be no potential awkwardness now. Just to warn you.”
    Kien almost winced, humiliated. But why? He’d done nothing to be ashamed of. “My lords, you make my understanding with the prophet sound scandalous. It is not!”
    â€œNevertheless,” Trillcliff sighed, “be prepared for the king’s possible displeasure. Talk to him of the temple to . . . distract him.”
    â€œI’m sorry. And I pray that the king’s marital difficulties are soon resolved.”
    Leaning closer, Faine said, “Help us to resolve them! Legally, if you can think of a way.”
    Piton lifted a cautioning hand. “Do not mistake us, my lord. We are genuinely concerned for the king. He is a remarkable man. Potentially one of Siphra’s greatest kings—the rebuilder of our temple and the restorer of our country’s reputation! But this marriage could ruin his legacy.”
    The noblemen nodded together, and Kien nodded with them. Wait. He hesitated. Did he want to be in agreement with this ambush of lords?
    However, these three noblemen truly respected the king and liked him. And, unless Kien could be somehow reinstated as a citizen of the Tracelands, these lords were now part of his life. Best to accept the situation. He smiled at the three, meaning it. “Thank you for warning me. Your regard for duty is invaluable to the king and to Siphra.” As they straightened, subtly, yet visibly pleased, Kien continued. “Rest assured, my lords, I am equallyconcerned, and I will do everything possible to help protect the king from any Atean threats.”
    Lord Trillcliff beamed. “We’d hoped to depend upon you.” His golden eyes lit with sudden inspiration. “Do you know anything of the king’s lineage, my lord?”
    â€œNo, sir. I suspect he’s of some highborn family. Why?”
    Piton sighed as if defeated. “Because of your friendship, we hoped he’d mentioned some hint of his past to you. He’s said almost nothing to us, and it’s important that we know.”
    Lord Faine shrugged and turned to the door. “Until this evening, Aeyrievale.”
    â€œThank you, sirs.” Kien closed the door, pondered his situation, then grinned. Grabbing his cloak, he strode from his rooms, asking directions at every turn to navigate this maze of a palace. At last he reached the royal stables and his gluttonous destroyer, who was tended by a handful of nervous stable hands.
    Clearly intimidated by Scythe’s monstrous form and by the huge crescents he’d bitten into the rim of his water barrel, the stable hands backed away. Scythe grumbled threats at his hapless handlers while crushing a chunk of wood between those gleaming destroyer-teeth. The stable hands fled. Kien stifled a laugh. “Hush, you monster! And enough wood. You’ll give yourself indigestion.”
    Scythe curled his equine lips slightly, but continued chewing as if Kien didn’t exist.
    Fine. How might a master best gain his irritable monster’s attention? With one word. “Ela.”
    The black ears perked, and the chewing halted.