The Warden

Chapter 42

The king fell silent and his eyes collapsed with his dying words towards the ground. Hands clasped in his lap, tensing and relaxing, he shuffled his feet about.

Still Masis found nothing in his panicked, scurrying mind. The man now before him, choked with emotion, lifelight bleeding with melancholy blues and sickly greens, both bitter and spoiled at once, was not the king he had imagined all his life. When he had first met King Othrad as a boy, he had met a giant, powerful and wise, nigh unto a god. Even in subsequent years, as maturity sprouted in Masis and deity seemed to fade from the king, the man had still seemed monumental. But the person sitting in front of him now was surprisingly fleshy. Hot and feeble blood, that could run cold, coursed through his veins. Mortality's fatal mantle came to rest on the king's shoulder's in that instant for Masis, and that realization shook through his body.

King Othrad glanced up.

Masis coughed to cover his ponderings.

"That is why," said King Othrad, smiling with his lips pressed firmly together. "That is why I'm doing this now. The treaty and all other matters connected to it. I might not be able to leave an heir, but I can at least leave a legacy—a brighter future."

The nearly undetectable footfalls of another person, not to mention the familiar animal proportioned lifelight now bobbing into his mindeye, saved Masis from having to respond.

"Lady Kyla, did you need anything?" asked Masis, practically springing from his seat.

The steps hiccupped but continued. Lady Kyla descended into the space moments later, her dress replaced with her usual dark jerkin, leggings, and winigas. Her feet were bare. Her face harbored a twitch of annoyance.

The king rose from his seat, reaching a steadying hand up to a beam above his head. "Lady Kyla, I hope you're comfortable and the accommodations are to your liking."

"They'll do," she responded matter-of-factly. "I'm going to need Masis' help with something."

"Of course," said King Othrad, ignoring her familiarity with a squirming smile and coughed chuckle. "Is there anything else I might be able to offer to make the journey more to your liking?"

"Nothing."

She turned to go, but Masis coughed sharply to pull her back. He squinted his eyes at her before nodding his head toward the monarch.

He's the king, woman! He wanted to bark at her.

"But thank you, sir, for your kind offer," said Kyla, working the words out of her mouth like something caught between her teeth.

"My pleasure." King Othrad bowed his head. "But if there is anything..." His words trailed off as he brought his head up. Lady Kyla had already gone. He shook his head. "A fascinating woman that."

"That's one way to describe her," muttered Masis.

Chuckling, King Othrad gave him a paternal slap on the shoulder. "Best not keep her waiting. Keeping any woman waiting is dangerous, but I imagine that particular female could do far more damage than the rest."

"Sir, you have no idea," said Masis, ascending the stairs two at a time.

Coming into the light of the afternoon sun, summer rich air swirling through his hair, Masis shivered as the breeze chilled his damp shirt to a near frigid level. He had not realized how much he had sweated during his session with the king. Squinting at Wilo, hung low, golden, crisp, and lazy, Masis took in the burnished grain fields, awns heavy and ready for harvest, as they sped by. They had left behind the coast's green fields some time ago. Masis took a long pull of the summer air, heavy with pollen and heady with earth.