Page 34 of The Sun King's Noon

“Old times’ sake.” Richard gave her a flat stare, the memory from all those years ago flickering to mind. He’d been nineteen and she eighteen, and they’d grappled on the eastern ramparts at dusk. She had been quicker even then, pinning him on the flagstones and sniggering as he squirmed. When she kissed him—fierce, sudden, and tasting of wine—he’d kissed back, hoping it would ignite something within him. But when she yanked off her blouse and guided his hands to her pale breasts, he’d panicked and kicked her. The force had tumbled her off the parapet’s edge, and he’d scrambled to catch her wrist. For a lurching heartbeat, she’d dangled, the courtyard thirty feet below.

Once he’d heaved her up, they’d sat against the parapet, breathing hard. Under the moon’s shine, Richard had haltingly confessed he felt no desire for her, nor for any woman. She’d laughed and laughed as she laced her blouse.

“Try a man then, you fool. Do not expect me to pursue you. A long line of eager bodies awaits me already.”

Richard blinked the memory away. “The Naradesh King arrives in the afternoon.”

Seola rolled her eyes. “Attempt to wake me for it, and I shall resort to bloodlust.”

“My Lady of the Nine Tails.” An older man stepped forward from the attendants, his blond beard stretching down to his belly. “Might I beg, Princess, that you be polite to our hosts for at least the first night?”

Seola laughed. “There now, old friend, you hear him? He says I am not polite.” She jutted a thumb at the man. “This desiccated old hawk is Right State Councillor Ragnar. My mother sent him with me so he can bow at things in my stead.”

Ragnar intoned wearily, “I often do.”

Richard nodded and signalled to Byrom. “Lord Steward. See that our friends are settled with comfort.”

“At once, Your Majesty.”

Richard addressed the hall. “My lords and ladies, the hour is indecent, and our guests require rest. We shall reconvene in daylight.”

There was a rustle of bows and curtsies. The councillors filtered away. Lady Kestrel attempted to drift towards the left side door, but Lord Gregory yanked her to the right. Corwin trailed after Seola, answering her questions with flushed cheeks. The boy had held a passing fancy for her, Richard recalled, and had pouted for days when news of Seola’s marriage reached Ardenian court.

Elara tried to sidle by, but Richard seized her elbow.

“Just because Penelope is here,” he said, “and just because you are both intent on behaving as though the past year did not happen, do not imagine I have changed my mind. I will never let you go to her realm.”

“Let?” Elara repeated softly, eyes flashing. “I was not aware my life required your permission, Brother.”

“It does when your life would be spent in a slaughterhouse.”

“And what would you have me do?” she asked. “Stand aside while the woman I love is dragged back there alone and scared?”

Richard’s lip curled. “Do not be childish. Estara is collapsing in on itself, and Marius would chain you to his court the instant vows were spoken.”

Flames alighted on Elara’s wrists. “I will not abandon her.”

“And I will not abandon you,” Richard hissed, tightening his grip around her elbow. “Youwillheed my command.”

Elara’s flames surged higher. “I am your sister, not a pet to be caged.”

Richard gritted his teeth. How could she consider abandoning him for another realm? How could she think to leave when Galdran loomed on their doorstep? For so-called love? For a woman she’d known far less than her own kin? After all Richard had sacrificed to keep her safe?—

A gauntleted hand curled over his wrist. “Your Majesty.”

Richard glared at Kaelen. The knight’s hair was mussed, likely from sleeping against his pillows, and the sconces lit bronze shimmers in his eyes.

Irritation flared. Truly, Kaelen had no right to look so handsome while meddling.

“Chief Mage Dianara has just arrived,” Kaelen said calmly. “They are waiting in the generals’ office.”

Elara’s flames guttered, and Richard let her go. He raised a brow at Kaelen, who hurriedly released his hold, too.

“This is not finished,” Richard said.

“No,” Elara said coldly. “It is not.”

With a curt nod, Richard strode to the doors, his cape snapping behind him. Dread churned his insides.