Page 110 of The Sun King's Noon

Richard blinked. “That would be rather tedious, for there are some five hundred pages.”

With a chuckle, Kaelen turned back to the street. The room’s candlelight lit the wet planes of his shoulder, the bunched curves of his upper arms, and the elegant dip of his lower back.

Truly, this was a body carved by the gods. Indeed, the statues of Emberlain seemed plain in comparison.

It is no wonder so many desire him.

The thought flooded a bitter taste onto Richard’s tongue. Why would Kaelen ever seek to be with someone who could not give his body the worship it deserved?

Richard searched for a matter to distract himself. “You spoke last night of being useless. I would have you take those words back.”

Kaelen’s face hardened. “It was true.”

“Do not be a fool.” Richard faced him fully, leaning a hip against the rail. “When the day comes that something must be cut down between me and harm, it is your blade I trust to do it.”

Kaelen’s jaw set. “And yet when that cottage bore down on us?—”

“Ah yes, the enchanted cottage with talons the size of a man,” Richard said. “Tell me, what sword stroke would you have preferred to use? What stance, what guard? Show me the manual page that covers the disembowelling of a cottage with chicken legs, and I shall concede the point.”

Kaelen’s lips twitched, though he quickly schooled his face.

“Your blade is for the things a blade can answer,” Richard continued. “You have never failed to answer when it could.”

Kaelen hung his head, and his sodden fringe fell forward to hide his eyes.

“The generals do not see it so,” he said quietly. “They think me too soft. Too untested to lead. General Barlow never fails to remind me that my position came only from King Haldric’s promotion. He and General Sarn and Lady General Ivelle have never trusted me.” He gave a joyless laugh. “And they are right to question my abilities. I am not prepared for war.”

“And pray tell, who is?”

Kaelen’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You say you are not prepared.” Richard shook his head. “Well, neither am I. War does not care for meticulous plans and measured sacrifices. I have read enough to know it is a beast that takes and takes, and scars generations to come. You are wise to fear it.”

He inched his hand along the railings. His fingertips brushed over Kaelen’s knuckles. “What matters is not the man you are when the sun is shining. It is the man you become when the sun is not. You are not finished, Kaelen. You are still becoming. One day, when the terrible beast is upon us, you will be exactly what our realm needs. I believe in this.”

Kaelen stared at where Richard’s hand rested atop his.

“I am gladdened,” he said hoarsely, “to have your trust.” He exhaled a shuddering breath. “But I am scared of what comes,of Galdran—” He grimaced. “I wonder what shall be asked of us before this is done.”

Kaelen’s fingers splayed out, then gripped Richard’s, interlocking their digits together. “There is a thing. I have not spoken of it. I—I am not certain I should now. But it has sat in me a long time, and tonight, it sits less easily than it usually does.” He met Richard’s gaze at last, his eyes watery. “Queen Aralynn...she once told me of six prophecies.”

Richard winced. “Six?”

His mother’s visions of the future were rarely bright.

To bestow six of them upon Kaelen was cruel. Why would his mother have done so?

“It was after I broke my arm in the fistfight with Sir Varkos,” Kaelen said quietly. “Seven years ago to this day, almost. I was only a squire. Eighteen.”

“I remember.”

“She wished to warn me,” Kaelen said. “One of her prophecies has already come to pass exactly as she said it, and I was glad, for it was a prophecy as sweet as the others had been abominable. But every day since, I have been waiting for those others. They haunt me, and I do not know if I can—” He broke off and rapped his knuckles against his forehead. “I am sorry. I should not?—”

“Kaelen.” Richard pulled away his hand to squeeze those broad shoulders instead. “Kaelen, listen to me.”

Kaelen’s stare was bleak. His frame trembled.

“My mother was sparing in what she told me,” Richard said. “Likely because she knew my mind and how it would chew on a thing once given it. But sometimes, she flinched when she looked at me. On my thirtieth birthday, I woke to find her weeping by my bedside. Such was the nature of her prophecies. How they tortured her.” He slid his hand up and cupped Kaelen’s cheek.