Page 7 of The Sun King's Noon
Richard blinked. “You are making assumptions. As I said, he is not my lover.”
“Yes, milord,” William replied, clearly disbelieving. “Maybe you offer a gift as an apology instead?”
“He is not one for material items.”
“Oh, milord. Gifts aren’t always about things. Sometimes a gift’s just a way of sayin’, ‘I see you.’ Like when me little girl brings me a pebble and swears it’s a dragon egg. I don’t need no pebble. But I put it on the mantel anyway.”
Richard raised a brow. “You are suggesting I give him a pebble?”
“No, milord.” William laughed. “Maybe a flower? Somethin’ soft. Somethin’ that says, ‘I’m sorry,’ without you havin’ to say it.”
Richard squinted through the steam. A flower might do. But Kaelen might then misinterpret the gesture. No doubt he’d freeze, his eyes going ridiculously wide, and he’d start stuttering like a fool.
With a groan, Richard tipped his head forward. Perhaps it was he who was being ridiculous. Why should he care if Kaelen was embarrassed?—
No. He was past such a point now. Somehow, in the recent months, Kaelen had become dear to him. That much he knew, at least.
“Brother?”
Richard startled, the water spilling over the tub as he snapped upright. Briony’s head poked in the small gap of the door. Her cheeks were pale, almost sickly in the candles’ glow.William hurried to block Richard from the doorway, tutting under his breath.
“Briony.” Richard peered around William’s bulk. “Is something the matter?”
She swallowed hard and shook her head. “No. I only—only wished to sleep in your chamber if I may.”
Richard hesitated. Really, at twelve, she was getting too old for such a thing. But how could he refuse?
“Of course. Return in an hour.”
With a listless nod, Briony slipped back out and clicked the door shut.
William resumed washing, hands working at Richard’s shoulders. But the knots returned anyway, tightening and tightening. Who had the blind man been? Why was Briony growing so quiet?
Steam curled around Richard, blurring the gilded edges of the tub. But the candlelight from Richard’s study desk glowed through the haze, prompting his thoughts to wander to wings and flame. He brought his right knee up to lean his cheek against as William scrubbed his back.
Two months ago, Lady Agnes had unearthed the scroll of his family’s history.“This was all I could find on your house emblem,”she’d droned.“It seems that over the centuries, someone has gone to great lengths to erase your house name from the registries.”
The answer as to why had been clear. Once Richard had recognised the emblem—a magnificent bird of flames—the female voice had burst through his skull, searing his veins with warmth. Her pride rang true as she uttered his family’s name.
“House of Phoenix.”
Richard had been certain after that. The voice that had saved his life in Caerwyn, the voice that had warned him of the blood-troll thereafter—she had been no simple entity. Shewas the phoenix, one of the First Creatures, chained somewhere behind the veil in Gloamvarn’s choking dark, watching the world through his eyes and clawing into his mind when she had strength enough. Somehow bound to his bloodline.
Richard wriggled his toes and watched the water ripple.Phoenix. I am here. I am waiting. If you hear me, answer.
Silence met him.
“I will find you,” Richard murmured, ignoring William’s startled look. “One day. I swear it.”
CHAPTER 4
It was a kinder sun that emerged the next morning, its beams filtered by the clouds. The jousting yard seemed all the merrier for it, with pennants snapping red and gold above the roaring crowd.
“Third pass!” the herald cried.
Richard’s fingers tightened around his armrest. Sitting on his right, Elara cheered as the two riders circled into position. Kaelen, bending low to murmur into his horse’s ear. And Corwin, yelping as his steed pranced sideways.
The first two passes had splintered lances without victory. After the second, Corwin had flicked a crude gesture at Kaelen, who’d lifted his visor and replied with something that made Corwin and nearby spectators laugh.
