Page 70 of The Sun King's Noon

He yearned to ask, but did not feel ready for the answers.

Kaelen withdrew his hand. He sat back against the bookshelf and narrowed his eyes at Richard. “Come with me.”

Richard blinked. “What?”

“Come with me to Estara. Let us retrieve the siren’s heart together.”

“Kaelen—” Richard huffed, startled into a laugh. “No. I cannot simply—no. I am the king.”

“Yes.” Kaelen nodded. “You are the king. You also have a High Council to govern matters for you, a sister with sense enough to run the realm, and a Lord Commander who will ensure security. You have people, my king. So, use them.”

Richard shook his head. “The High Council will plot the moment I step through the gates. They are already irked by?—”

“The Council is loyal to you,” Kaelen said. “Despite everything, loyalty runs true in Ardenian blood. It is stitched into us. Even in Lord Malgrin.”

Richard doubted that, but Kaelen spoke with such surety that it was difficult to argue. “The generals, then. They are furious and may well stage a coup?—”

“My king!” Kaelen laughed. “The generals would never move against you. Regardless, my father would have their heads before they even tried.”

Richard squinted. “There is still—I have correspondence?—”

“It will keep.”

“The repair work?—”

“The Lord Steward will manage.”

“Kaelen, be reasonable?—”

“I am being reasonable,” Kaelen said firmly. “You told me to choose one to share this adventure with, and I choose you. Always.” He clambered to his feet and stretched out his hand. “Come with me.”

Richard gawked up at the tall, lantern-lit shape of him standing among the children’s books, his hand outstretched, as though he were the knight in his own silly game and Richard, at last, the prince he had come to collect. And the urge—thewant—to follow Kaelen filled Richard’s chest so sharply that it hurt to breathe.

He reached up, and Kaelen’s fingers closed, calloused and sturdy, around his own.

“Very well.”

CHAPTER 28

Richard hummed as he scurried around the room. He’d changed into a plain grey tunic, its wool itching at his collar. A leather pack sat open on the bed. Into it went three tunics, breeches, a warm cloak?—

He stopped before his cabinet, considered a fourth tunic, and flung it onto the bed. Why not? He was going on an adventure. An adventure with Kaelen, and his heart would not stop hammering.

The door creaked.

Richard paused mid-fold. Elara entered in her nightgown, her hair loose and her eyes red-rimmed. Corwin hovered behind her in only his trousers, a purple bruise blossoming along his cheekbone. They stared at the pack, at the pouch of coins, then at Richard.

Elara frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Estara.” Richard returned to his folding. “With Kaelen.”

“What?” Corwin blinked. “You—You cannot?—”

“What in all the hells is this I am hearing?” Dain’s voice preceded him, booming down the corridor, and then the man himself barrelled through the doorway in his night robe. He jabbed a thick finger towards Richard. “My boy has just told methat the king of Ardenia is riding out into Estara, and I said to him, ‘Boy, you must be mad, you must be drunk, you must have taken a blow to the head, because His Majesty is not—is not—dabbling in such dangers while I draw breath?—”

“Father.” Kaelen was suddenly there, arms folded, leaning against the doorpost. “Pray, lower your voice. The whole castle will hear you.”

“Lower my—” Dain whirled on him. “You impudent whelp. You are dragging the bloody king along?—”