The Vagrant King

Chapter 8

"Hullo," Julian mumbled, spooning the fruit into his mouth.

"Don't worry, the King will visit this evening,"  Percy said, smiling encouragingly at Julian like this was good news.

Julian chewed the fruit. His gut twisted unhappily but he said nothing. There was no point. He had dared to fight back, and look where it got him.

"He would like to walk with you today." Percy said, sitting down at Julian's bedside. "It is time to get some strength back in you. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Mhm." Julian said before gulping down the cup of mulberry juice. A few days ago, he had drank an entire cup of cow's milk. Julian had promptly retched his stomach's contents into a bucket, tears streaming down his face from the burn in his throat. Julian was put back on a strict diet of bread and unsalted meat until he could keep his food down.

Still, the bread and meat was nothing to complain about. Julian marveled at the wonderful, satisfying feeling of something heavy on his tongue and substantial between his teeth.

Julian set aside the tray and slumped against the headboard, fisting his the fabric of his tunic. "May I go for a walk now?"

Percy lifted the tray and shook his head. "Not yet. We must wait for the King." He said, before leaving the room to return the dirty dishes to the kitchen. 

Julian pushed back the blankets until he was left with just one. He slipped back under it and rested his head on the pillow, shutting his eyes. A small part of him wished he would never wake again.

~

Night had fallen by the time Julian woke again. Candles cast a warm glow around the room. Strangely, Julian was alone. He was so rarely alone these days. Julian slid out of bed and padded barefoot to the door. He tried the doorknob but it did not give. Locked.

Julian grabbed one of the candleholders to look around his new chambers. It was homier than the little, windowless room. There was his bed, a shiny, oak armoire and chest, a bookshelf, a set of table and chairs, and a small window with green curtains. Julian lifted the candle to examine the tapestry on the wall, a scene of hunters on horses with hounds chasing after a herd of deer. In the corner of the tapestry, the royal Coat of Arms was stitched delicately into a bush.

Julian walked to the bookcase and shined the candlelight on the multi-coloured tomes. Julian perked at the sound of the key sliding into the lock. Regulus opened the door and stopped at the sight of Julian.

"Oh, you're awake," Regulus said. He held a small, leather-bound book in his hand. "You are never awake when I come in."

Julian stared at Regulus, finding himself at a loss for words. During the days of Julian's fever, he had drifted in and out of sleep while Regulus sat at his bedside. He rarely spoke to Regulus except to ask for the window to be opened or for Regulus to read aloud from one of his books. He would like to walk with you today, Julian recalled Percy saying. Julian would now be expected to make polite conversation with his captor. 

Julian cleared his throat. "Yes." He mumbled, loathing himself for being so scared of the man.

"How are you feeling?" Regulus asked, closing the door behind him.

"Fine." Julian said, looking at the floor. It was a ridiculous question that didn't even deserve an answer.

"Good." Regulus said, setting down the book. He walked to stand next to Julian, gesturing to the bookcase. "I hoped you would notice the bookshelf. Do you like to read?"

"Yes." Julian said, which was a lie. Julian envied the ease with which Regulus could crack open any book and read aloud. Regulus never stumbled over the words or paused to determine the proper pronunciation. The soft, even tone of Regulus' voice often lulled Julian into a deep sleep.