Arc 9-33
Breakfast is savory and satisfying. The lure of a long nap grows harder to ignore but I push it aside, the exhaustion easier to carry on my strong shoulders. It’s hard to relax until I know the results of Shake’s raid; she has orders to send a runner to me the moment everything’s resolved. Saints know it’s hard to sit on my hands when the Templetees, my precious guards, could be dying. When I look at them, it’s hard to see a threat in the mild-mannered nature lovers. Yet, there must be a reason Dunwayne lobbied so hard for peace. If they’re going to wrangle hunters and their families, they have to prove themselves. And yes, they have to prove themselves to me too. I trust their integrity, but they have to show me they have the power to defend the city in my absence.
Thankfully, I have enough to keep me occupied until I get word. Unfortunately, the more pleasant options will have to wait. Now that he’s had some time to stew in the realities of his situation, it’s time to have another talk with my future brother-in-law.
Anticipating Khan’s talk with Little Water wouldn’t go well, I told Earl to drown him in Herbanacle. The shroom juice won’t help anything of course. It’s a break, a sturdy wall for his thoughts to crash against. It won’t last forever but the pause will give his emotions time to settle; the hour after a heartbreak isn’t the time to be making decisions. I wanted him to pass out and take a look at his life in the morning.
The first part of that plan seems to have passed without a hitch. As I step into the doorway to his room, I find the northman passed out on his bed, the room stinking of body odor and shrooms. The sun is well and truly up, but he’s dead to the world. A half-empty bottle of Herbanacle sits on the small table on the opposite wall.
Good. Doubt he’s had a single coherent thought in hours. Next step is to get him in a state to facilitate thinking and hopefully talking.
“Geneva.”
My thrall steps forward with a swinging tail. Her thin arms effortlessly scoop the lightly snoring man onto her shoulder. I follow her from the room, lips unconsciously curling with amusement as she carries him outside, dumping him on the grass with fleeting care.
She efficiently strips him. Then her pretty pink eyes glow with magic as a large ball of water appears over him. Khan’s eyes snap open as the liquid engulfs him, limbs flailing uselessly as the ball swirls rapidly.
Shouldn’t there be some soap in there?
[He’ll smell like shrooms, but he’ll be clean.]
Not the worst thing to smell like. Make sure to clean his mouth, his breath is probably rancid.
[Of course.]
Not even a minute passes before Geneva drops the spell, the water sinking into the surrounding Earth. Khan is on his hands and knees as he coughs up water, dry heaving once no more liquid comes up. When he can breathe without issue, he glares at us with red eyes.
At least until he realizes he’s naked. Then his anger collapses under the weight of his discomfort, his hands dropping to cover his privates, a gesture I appreciate. A wave of heat saps from the moisture from his bronze skin and stops his tiny shivers, though he’s a far cry from comfortable.
“Morning,” I greet cheerfully.
“Can I get dressed?” he asks, eyeing the door behind me.
“Soon. I feel like you’re going to be very honest with me and that’s a good thing. We’ve got important things to talk about. Or one thing. I hope you’ve come to your senses?”
One of his hands moves away from his pants snake to shield his eyes. Ah, is the light bothering him? Eh, more motivation to be honest.
“If by sense you mean have I given up on trying to return to the north…yes. I understand…that is not an option.”
“Good, good. That’s the first obstacle cleared. Now, the second. Your name. You know you can’t use it.”
His hand drops with shock but he quickly puts it back in place. “Why?”
“If I’m going to tell the duke I ‘killed’ his son, I can’t have rumors of Khan James going around the kingdom.”
“I’m discrete.”
“I’m sure you are, but the rest of the kingdom isn’t as isolated as the north and James is a name that sticks in the mind. I admit, there’s a small chance it gets back to your father but why risk it? You need a new name.”
“…sure. It’s not enough to lose my home and my purpose. Why not throw away my identity too?”
“Think of it like this. You’re not losing who you were, you’re reinventing yourself. People would kill for the chance to start over.”
“Right now, I’d kill for the chance return to my room with a pitcher of water and breakfast. If that could be arranged?”
Cocky. Or perhaps that’s indifference. Suppose he thinks he has nothing left to lose.
“That can be arranged. I’ll be leaving the city in a week or two. When I do, you’ve got the option of taking a bag of gold and figuring it out yourself or asking my help getting started somewhere. I want to be clear about this; I want you to be happy. So long as you’re not summoning horrors from another realm or interfering in my business, I don’t care what that looks like. I do need direction. Once we go our separate ways, I won’t be easy to reach, so make sure you know what you want.”
“It’s hard to think about anything while exposed.”
I snort in amusement. “Geneva, get him back to his room and fed.” He shies away from her attention, but it doesn’t matter; a hand under his shoulder is enough to haul him to his feet. He squirms out of her grip, yelping as her tail lightly smacks the back of his thighs. His glare holds all the power of a wet piece of bread. He’s smart enough not to voice any complaints, hurrying toward the estate with the thrall on his heels.
“A thank you wouldn’t be amiss,” I mutter. But I don’t hold it against him. If he’s smart, his head is full of more pressing thoughts. And I have something far more interesting on my mind.