The Kings Personal Joker (boyxboy)

Chapter Fifty Three

His eyes flickered towards me, then at the clothes on my bed. I was nervous. It felt as though the clothes were evidence, telling a clear story to anyone who saw them. What must Natham be thinking right now?

Ophelos shook his head. "Leave, Ethan." He ordered.

Natham frowned, "Natham." He muttered the correction under is breath, but moved towards the door quickly despite the wrong name. He lingered only for a moment before finally leaving, his pointed curiosity in his gaze the last look he gave me.

Then Ophelos turned to me. Even though I knew the man shadowed me possibly since my first day here in the palace, meeting his eyes was still somehow unsettling.

"First I will inform you that your usual entertainment in a few days will not be required as important guests will be arriving. The King will employ other entertainers to keep them company that night." He said pointedly.

It sounded like an insult, and perhaps it was meant as one, Ophelos didn't like me much, but I knew that playing in front of others would get me punished and was very willing to silence my lyre for the evening so I said nothing and simply watched him expectantly. He clearly hadn't come only to share such trivial news.

"We must return to the matter of clothes." He announced, his posture straight as an arrow as he approached me in one stride forwards.

I was ready to discuss the clothes, more than ready, however all of a sudden I was distracted by the objects lying on my stool to the right of me.

The pot of oak gall ink and the quill, still black with glittering ink.

I hadn't moved it. Blood ran from my face.

It was not impossible for the servants here to own ink and a quill, they wrote home to family and sent off letters on occasion I was sure of it. However it was a particular sort of ink that was also clearly marked on its label as Rumia Black Ink, ink, I had learned, that was expensive and usually a traded commodity, coming from far away and accused of being of the finest quality, though I wasn't sure why the slightly greyer ash ink we made at home was determined any worse.

It was ultimately the case that this could not possibly be mine, and was definitely at least stolen. My biggest fear stemmed from knowing Ophelos's quiet but determined inquisitiveness that might motivate him to investigate. 

He didn't seem to notice, didn't turn or glare at me say anything about it. I couldn't risk him forcing me to hand over any letters I had just written, or even looking into the situation himself. He was intelligent, I knew that, the King had chosen him for a reason, if he found my letters I would not be the only one in trouble. The newest letter I had written was even more incriminating than the last too, I would have no other choice but to run if it were found.

"Yes." I said quickly. "Clothes."

"I have arranged for you to meet with a tailor today." His eyes travelled down my body, seemingly unsatisfied with what he was seeing, but said nothing about it. "It would be better for him to meet you here."

I shook my head quickly. I didn't know how quickly he meant for me to meet the tailor, would there be enough time for me to hide the quill and the ink or was he already on his way?

"I have the rest of the clothes now, and Natham will surely help me in getting dressed properly." I told him. "I will cover up," I promised.

There was a spark of something in his eyes before he looked away. "Natham should not help you today..." I tapped the wall. "I'm afraid you probably can't cover up quite well enough."

I narrowed one eye. Can't cover up well enough? It sounded like an insult but was not spoken like an insult. If spoken in any particular way at all there was a subtle softness to his voice. I didn't quite...

Upon looking down I realised what he meant. The marks on my body were visible, though I was sure the formal clothing I had already been provided with would surely be enough to hide them, for some reason Ophelos doubted that.

My face felt hot. I wanted to ask just how much he knew. How much he had seen, surmised or been told.

"I can cover it up." I said slowly.

Ophelos narrowed his eyes. "I am afraid formal dress shirts do not usually have long enough sleeves." He said in a low voice. "I look at you and see the mark of a mans hands on you, I do not know any other who would look and see anything else. It is obvious and hard to ignore."

My face burned. The bruises on my wrists tingling as we spoke about them. It struck me that he was right, I was well and truly marked in such a way that it was visible for all who looked to recognise it, in a place that was indeed difficult to hide. A mans hands.

Perhaps they would think me savagely beaten, or restrained for some misdeed... but I knew that were it me observing those marks I knew what I would think. 

"I will grip the sleeves." I said in a quiet voice. "No one will see."

"Why must you visit him?" He asked me suddenly.

I pursed my lips and tried desperately not to look at the ink, he would notice if I noticed, of course the more I told myself not to look the more it became difficult not to. My eyes darted over towards it briefly yet he did not seem to notice.

"I do not have to."

"Then it would be better to wait here for him."

"Surely it would be easier for him if he does not have to carry his work room with him?" I asked him boldly.

His look was dark as he stared at me for a moment, thinking hard, he was quieter as he replied suddenly. "Good, then I will have you meet with him."

There was a glint in his eyes as he turned away from me and opened the door.

"I will arrange for you to meet him at midday, a messenger will bring a note if needed." He told me, closing the door behind him slowly. "Or you could write one of your own of course..." He mused in a low murmur from outside in the hallway.

The door closed behind him quietly and all I was left with was the sound of faint shoes tapping on stone as he walked off.

I swallowed back fear, brilliant, he knew.

[A/N] As usual big kiss to my patrons. ヽ(^◇^ )/

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