Page 24 of The Sun King's Noon

But for tonight, he would not press.

Richard glanced over Briony’s head at the two sleeping shapes. “Why are Elara and Corwin here?”

“I asked them.” She peered up at him. “Do you want to sleep here too? It’ll be like the game we played, remember? Where we four are stranded on a boat floating on the sea.”

Richard remembered. It had been Briony’s favourite. “I would like nothing more.”

Briony brightened. She lobbed her sketchbook under the bed before wriggling across the mattress to slot herself by Elara.

Richard chuckled and rose to his knees. He moved Corwin’s hand aside, but once he settled beneath the covers, Corwin immediately flung an arm and leg over him. Richard groaned and tried to untangle himself, but the motion only made Corwin cling tighter. Rolling his eyes, Richard shifted onto his shoulder and hugged Briony.

Warmth pressed in from every side. Corwin heavy and boneless against his back, Briony curled against his front, and Elara’s outstretched hand slapped across his forehead. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink to this bed, this room, this bundle of his own gathered close and safe.

Briony whispered, something solemn and sad thrumming through her words, “We will not rest together like this again for a long, long time.”

Richard frowned. “Do not speak like that.”

Her large eyes reflected the candlelight before closing. Richard listened to his sisters and brother breathe until the sounds blurred and sleep pulled him under.

Hours later, Richard surfaced. He kept his eyes shut, too dazed to move, as a familiar voice hissed, “Corwin. Get. Up.”

Corwin groaned in protest. “Go die, Kaelen, and leave me in peace.”

“You promised the recruits a dawn training lesson,” Kaelen whispered back from the bedside. “Move, you sluggard, and keep your voice down. Your brother is asleep.”

Richard felt a prickle of both fondness and irritation at Kaelen’s nearness. He heard the whoosh of blankets being thrown aside, the drag of Corwin being hauled from the bed, a muttered threat, heavy footsteps, then the door closing.

Sleep swallowed him again.

The next time he woke, it was to gentler sounds. Drawers opening. Clothes rustling. Elara’s voice.

“Briony, wake. It’s time for your lessons.”

A whine resounded as Briony hugged Richard tighter.

“Hush now. Let Brother rest.”

Richard, cocooned in drowsiness, felt Briony withdraw and the patter of feet. There was a clink of Elara fastening jewellery, her ringed fingers patting his head—‘Sleep, Brother’—then another click of the door.

Silence returned.

By the time Richard properly woke, it was to noonlight spilling across the bed. The blankets around him were hollowed out, and the pillows dented. But Corwin’s warmth was gone. Briony’s hand was no longer tucked in his. And Elara’s rose perfume had faded.

He had been left all alone.

PART TWO

THE SUMMER BALL

“I know my place, YourMajesty. Prince Richard likely does not even remember my foolish words. And he is—he is…He is the crown prince. He is beautiful, and clever, and the bravest man I know. He deserves someone of greatness. Someone worthy. I could never—I’m just a squire. I’ll never be?—”

CHAPTER 11

The Sylari arrived five days before the ball. Dawn had scarcely broken when a breathless soldier came pelting through the courtyard with news of a strange procession approaching the Southern Gate—of goatmen, treewomen, and a black wolf pacing at their side.

They were a full day early—meant instead to be arriving with Frostheim and Naradesh tomorrow—and the news plunged the castle into chaos. Maids and scullions sprinted through the hallways, hurrying to string up flower wreaths. Footmen polished the bannisters. And the cooks’ bellowing reached the parapets.

Seamstress Cecily had cornered Richard to fit him into a brown doublet. His green cape, Cecily had embroidered with golden flowers. The extravagance seemed out of place when he was due to greet simple woodland folk, but Cecily had been firm. A king he was, and a king he must dress as.