Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
They glance up, my brothers first, and then my father when they call my name in startled surprise.
Father stands, gaze cutting over the room towards me and Quin. A wave of confusion and relief crashes through him, making his shoulders droop. He steps in our direction but stops himself, forcing a small nod instead.
I gesture Quin towards the table and take a seat beside him, my father watching my every move like he’s not sure what he’s seeing is real.
“The king awarded me one night at home.”
My brothers lift up their glasses and welcome me back with pointed glances at Quin.
I clear my throat. “He’s my aklo for the evening. He’s . . . part of the reward.”
“Reward?” my eldest brother asks.
I preen. “His majesty was most effusive in his praise.”
My brothers laugh rambunctiously while under the table, a hand covers my knee and pinches. I prod Quin’s fingers off me. “Where’s Akilah?”
The door flings open and little feet scurry into the room. Lucetta latches onto her father, giggling. “I want to stay up.”
Akilah falls through the open doorway, flushed from running. “Lucetta,” she gently chides. “You’re supposed to be in bed—”
Akilah spots me and gasps. “Cael?”
Lucetta flicks her head around and squeals. Within seconds, I have her arms around my neck as she climbs onto my lap. “Uncle Cael, you’re home!”
I resettle her and give her a hug. “Missed you too.”
She peeks at Quin shyly; Akilah registers him too and blinks rapidly, stunned. Imagine her reaction if she knew it’s not rich merchant Quin at our table in disguise—as if that weren’t bizarre enough—but the crown of our kingdom, Constantinos Quinlaus Galliot.
Lucetta whispers, “Who’s that?”
Quin glances at me, awaiting my introduction, and I explain to Lucetta that Aklo is here to help me for the evening.
Father’s cool voice cuts across the room. “An aklo and a night at home? You’d have been better off with a piece of gold. That at least would be useful.”
I shift and clear my throat. “It’s an enormous privilege to leave the royal city.”
“I’m sure.”
I cringe as Quin stiffens in his chair. “Father,” I say over Lucetta’s head, “I believe, in time, you’ll see things getting better.”
I can feel Quin’s gaze on my profile, and I flush. “I-I mean, the king has his problems but his principles are not among them.”
Father raises a brow, intrigued.
I blow out a breath and my tension eases. “He’s a man of many faces—” I swat Quin’s fingers off the side of my thigh and Akilah snaps into action, coming around and pulling Lucetta off my lap. “Come, I’ll read you one more story in bed.”
She eyes me as she leaves and in this unspoken communication, we agree we’ll talk later.
“I’ll doubt until I witness change with my own eyes,” Father says. “Forever, if you don’t leave the palace in one piece.”
My brothers raise their glasses at this; but my father’s eyes keep shifting to Quin and I know, just know, he’s suspicious. It’s the hair. Too long for an aklo.
I catch Father mid-observation and palm Quin’s head like I own him. “You’re curious about his long hair.”
“It’s unusual, is it not?”
I toss off a laugh. “He’s one of the king’s aklos.”
“What does that mean?” one of my brothers inquires.
I feel Quin tense, as if he’s guessing how I’ll explain this.
“Does he have a fetish?” another brother asks.
I say nothing. Just ask for cards to be dealt my way on the next round.
My brothers inhale sharply; Quin pinches me the hardest he has yet and his glance my way is absolutely lethal.
“I didn’t say it,” I mouth back to him. Still, the look is making me shiver. I quickly change the topic of conversation, and after an hour my father and brothers retire.
“Get some sleep,” they tell me. Mother has to leave to collect herbs from the mountains in the morning. I’ll have to wake early to see her.
“Your aklo can clean up in here. Put him to good use.”
They go, and Quin’s glare turns on me in full force.
I shuffle out of reach. “You do seem the type—”
One swish of his hand has me whipped towards him. I catch myself with an oof on the back of his chair, my knee braced between his legs. He flicks my forehead, his mouth a grimace.
I pull away from him and pointedly scan the glasses and empty bowls on the table. He returns this with a dry expression, one elegant eyebrow arched.
I grin, clear the table hurriedly, and ferry the dishes to the scullery to wash. Quin gives a hand drying with the wave of his fingers, then I lead him to my bedchamber and light the candles at the window and my bedside.
The knot at my throat gives way and my cloak plummets to my feet. I scoop it up, fling it over my arm, and rummage around the room for a fresh shirt and pants. Quin waits at my bedside, taking in the painting I made on the wall there. The violet oak, and two huddled boys in its hollowed trunk. The lids of his eyes lower like he’s lost in thought.