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Chapter 14 ~ Kit

Dàibhid

It had been a week since Brí and áine had arrived, and there was still no sign of the soldier from Onyx Watch. Brí might have said he was meant to arrive within weeks, not days, but it still had me on edge. Bryn claiming she’d seen nothing amiss in Glaochnamara, but that an Onyx soldier was likely to know more than she did, hadn’t helped. I was a sitting duck until that information arrived. Anything could happen in the meantime. Brí and Cianán tried to distract me as best they could, but it wasn’t doing much.

It had also been a week since I’d told Rígan to call me by my name. We’d had a few conversations since, and though she rarely had cause to say my name to my face, the couple times I heard her use it sent thrills through me just like that first time. I’d extended the request to the other sellswords, but hearing them use it didn’t do anything like it did coming from Rígan.

The moments I spent with her and the others were short bursts of reprieve from the worries lashing at me. From the wish that my parents were the ones dealing with this and not me, because surely they would have done a better job. Surely they wouldn’t have felt like every decision they made could lead to a fuckup.

“Your Majesty.”

I startled from the work I’d set myself to in my study, the fourth such working morning in a row. Today’s task—read through notes from yesterday’s council meeting. It had once again focused on the Exiles: the money the cities were requesting to pay for more guards as crime levels rose, and the trouble outside the Keep’s gates as farmers tried to get inside to sell their wares, the market no longer operating. Beside those, letters from nobles. Glaochnamara requesting naval ships for added protection, just in case. The south requesting more money should Exiles decide to target them next.

I wanted nothing more than to grant every plea for aid, but if I did that, our resources would be spread too thin, something I was sure the Exiles would pounce on.

I pressed my fingertips into the wood of my desk until the pressure became uncomfortable. How could people trust me if I didn’t help when they asked?

Liam cleared his throat, snapping me back to the present.

“What is it, Liam?”

“You’ve been in here for hours.” He would know. He’d been assigned to the royal apartments for the last few days, freeing the usual guards up for additional training. It had been a while since they’d undergone rigorous work.

“Don’t tell me you’ve unleashed your mother hen instincts,” I teased.

He sighed, stepping into the room and closing the door. “You’ve always been like this, you know.”

“Like what?”

“You tend to overwork when you’re stressed.”

“Meaning?”

“I apologize if I’m overstepping, but you need a break.”

I glanced out the window. The clouds were thick, turning everything a dull shade of gray. It wasn’t quite indicative of rain, though a sheen of mist could appear at any moment. In old times, people claimed the weather around Cunlaran matched the monarch’s mood. Today seemed like proof of it.

“I have a lot I have to get through,” I said. “And yes, work does distract me. But if you haven’t noticed, being king means putting in the work, and sometimes”—I waved a hand over my desk—“this is what it looks like.”

He held my gaze, and I grimaced. I avoided pulling the king card with those closest to me. It felt wrong, underhanded, almost. The stress really was getting to me. I loosened my arms, studying the paper in front of me. I did have to finish reviewing this page. But the rest could, theoretically, wait a few hours without anything bad happening. My attention snagged on one particular piece, a notation my scribe wrote down during petitions. Family in the west, south of Keep. Scared something will happen. What precautions are being taken?

I couldn’t take a break, not yet. Not when my people needed me.

“You’re right, King Dàibhid. My apologies.” Liam made to leave, opening the door to find Brí standing on the other side, fist poised to knock.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked.

“No, Princess, I was just leaving.” Liam nodded at me, shrewd, and returned to his post outside the apartments’ doors.

I ran a hand through my hair, sure I was making it stand on end. Brí drummed her fingers as she took me in.

“You need a break.”

I huffed. “Second person to tell me that in as many minutes.”

“We’re smart people. Maybe you should listen.” She strode over and peered at what I was doing. More gently than before, she said, “You can’t help everyone at once. Especially when you aren’t helping yourself.” She sat on the edge of my desk. “Talk to me.”

I picked up my quill, ready to dip it in ink. “In a minute.”

She grabbed the quill from my hand before it even reached the liquid. “Now.”

I tried to take it from her, but she held it further away. “This is childish, Brí. I have work.”

“If you want it back, you’ll tackle me for it.”

“Like this?” I leapt, reaching for the quill and throwing her off the desk. She flailed her legs, making me fall flat on my ass. The quill was still in her hand.

She smirked. “I thought you had more skill than that.”

I grunted and went for her legs, bringing her down again. I swatted hard, trying to knock the quill away from her. This was exactly how we’d fight when we were children—Brí would do something to get under my skin, and I’d go after her. Eventually, she’d only instigated it when I needed a distraction. When I was too in my own head.

“I know what you’re doing.” I stood and she followed, pushing my shoulders hard enough to make me stumble.

She looked behind her; she’d gotten between me and the desk. “Is it working?”

“No,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Shame. Guess I’ll just have to do this .” She bolted around me, making for the sitting room. I tried to grab her, but she skipped past, running for an open window. She tossed the quill outside.

I rushed to the window. I couldn’t see the quill from this high. “What the fuck was that?”

“You want it, go get it. It’d be a good break.”

“I have other quills.”

“Then why didn’t you say that before?” She crossed her arms. “You. Need. A. Break. And you know it. So go take it.” I opened my mouth to give her a retort, but she cut me off. “I gave you the chance to talk to me. You ignored it. So you’re doing it this way.”

“I can’t, Brí.” I had to respond to those pleas. My people were in danger . I needed to protect them.

“You can, Dàibhid. You are easily one of the best kings we’ve ever had.”

I shook my head, envisioning my father. The best man I’d ever known. He’d been a great king.

She poked me. “You are . And the fact that you think you aren’t is utter bullshit. You care so much about everyone all the time. And you want to help them. I get that.” She laughed. “I’m the exact same way.”

That pulled a smile from me. She’d always liked helping others. Her way just involved punching the perpetrator while mine tended to be talking to them.

“But you can’t wear yourself out with fear of not helping everyone, or somehow helping them the wrong way,” she said. “You also have to trust that they can help look out for themselves. It’s not all on you.”

My lungs constricted. It wasn’t their job to protect this country; it was mine. I couldn’t ask that of civilians. But I wouldn’t win this argument. “What do you suggest?”

“Taking a damn break every once in a while.”

I didn’t point out that I had taken some breaks, even if they generally included obsessing over my worries. “That simple, huh?”

“That simple. Now come on, I want to show you something.”

“And what might that be?”

“You’ll see.”

Beautiful.

Brí had led me to the open-air training area in a secluded courtyard I’d assigned to the sellswords. Covered pathways lined two sides, while the other two were walls lined by shrubs and ivy, with windows climbing to the royal apartments. The mist had descended, saturating the air and coating everything in a layer of moisture so thick it might as well have been raining. But that hadn’t driven her inside. No, Rígan stayed in the wet, her hair plastered to her skin where it had come loose from her braid, her feet shifting and scuffing the stones as she practiced an array of moves with and without her sword, everything honed and fierce.

Utterly beautiful.

“áine was here, too,” Brí said. I hardly heard her. “I had wanted to show you how they were faring together.”

I didn’t mind it just being Rígan. Watching her move through her practice was captivating, a solo dance unlike any other. From the way she’d made her moves more ornate when we appeared, she knew we were watching. I trailed my eyes wherever she went.

Brí snickered. “Shall I give you a moment?”

I elbowed her in the ribs.

She winced. “Very kingly.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“You do seem better, though,” she said. “More relaxed.”

I considered it. My shoulders did feel lower, and I hadn’t thought about the letters or Exiles or Balor since I’d spotted Rígan. It was like simply seeing her calmed me.

Rígan increased the tempo, her movement fluid. The breath flew from me, my attention homed in with renewed vigor, and my palms became distinctly sweaty despite the mist.

“Bryn was also here earlier,” Brí said. “Her training is coming along nicely.”

I grunted by way of reply. It was good news, but it wasn’t as captivating as Rígan’s final combination, where she ended with a jab of her sword in my direction. She looked directly at me as she did so, that feline smile creeping in. Half of me wanted to return it, see what she’d do. The other half felt like I was thirteen, unsure what to do in the face of a pretty girl.

Rígan lowered the sword, wiping hair from her forehead as she did so. She broke eye contact, the sparkle in her eyes dimming. I, however, traced the descent of a water droplet down her neck, averting my gaze only when Brí spoke.

“Impressive. I knew you had to be talented for my brother to hire you.”

Rígan offered a full smile, wide with pride. “A big compliment coming from a top commander.”

“I’ve trained myself to spot talent. If you weren’t a sellsword, I’d offer you a spot in my unit.”

“Your sister’s training is coming along, I hear?” I said, surprised by how normal I sounded.

Rígan’s whole countenance softened. “Quite nicely. Seems like she built using a bow into her muscle memory. Stored it away for safekeeping.”

“Any idea if she’ll want to join us on missions?” Brí asked.

Rígan hesitated, nose scrunching. “We’ll see.” Was that Bryn’s feeling, or hers?

She turned to me. “Glad to see you out and about.”

My pulse leapt. She was? “Oh?”

“You’ve been locked up in your study like a hermit.”

“I happen to think the hermit lifestyle sounds rather enjoyable.”

“I think it sounds boring. All that solitude?” She fake gagged, and I laughed. I did have a hard time picturing her enjoying solitude. She was too close with her friends, coming alive when she was around them. Making everything else alive around her.

“Maybe if you had a person to share it with.” I noticed how flirtatious I sounded only after I’d spoken. Rígan stared at me like she was surprised.

“Maybe,” she said. “In any case, welcome to the world outside your study.”

“I’ve seen you in the evenings, you know.”

She looked me up and down, like a physician. Assessing. “Another break or two couldn’t hurt.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell him,” Brí said, but I was still focused on Rígan. Her perusal had felt a lot like concern. Genuine concern, not simply well-meaning.

Rígan pointed to the side. “I think you dropped something.”

I swiveled, spotting the rudely discarded quill by a shrub. Glaring at Brí, I bent to swipe it up.

“It has a penchant for escaping,” I said.

Rígan laughed, and the sound sent my flurry of a heart slowing. Odd. I’d have expected it to quicken. Instead, my next breath was smoother. Deeper.

Steadier.

One of the doors creaked open, and Lou and Maya stepped into the courtyard, swords at the ready.

“Don’t tell me we caught you after you’ve tired yourself out,” Lou called to Rígan.

“Sorry, but you don’t get me this time,” she called back.

“Afraid you’d lose?” Maya taunted. She threw a half bow in my direction, Lou following suit.

“Afraid I’d humiliate you despite my tired state, more like,” Rígan quipped. I barked a short laugh, earning me a conspiratorial wink.

“You just want to seem tough in front of His Majesty,” Lou said. He’d gotten comfortable enough around me to make jokes. Brí chuckled at his barb.

Rígan mumbled, “By the Faith.”

Brí cocked her head. “Isn’t that a Faith of Unity saying?”

Rígan stilled, halting her sword partway into its scabbard at her waist. She slid it in the rest of the way with a curious decisiveness.

“It is,” she said, her attention on her friends. Their weapons clashed, the sound echoing off the bricks. “Side effect of living in Glaochnamara.”

She was trying to hide it, but the stiffness in her shoulders, the way she wasn’t looking at us, was as close to awkward as I’d seen her. I wanted to help ease it somehow.

“The amount of Fenwaldan sayings you grew up with must be staggering,” I said.

She shot me a quick smile. My head buzzed, the way she’d said the phrase catching up and tickling the back of my mind. Making me think of forests and dancing. Of another redhead, who might look something like Rígan now.

I’d called her Kit. Nina. We hadn’t known each other’s names until the end, so we’d given each other monikers. Nina was clever, mischievous, alive . Add in the red hair and my younger self had been struck with the inspiration to call her Kit after the fox pups who played where the Forest Ball was held. She stuck her tongue out at me the first time I called her that, but she never objected. Gods, I would have followed that girl anywhere.

“What do you think?”

I blinked. Rígan and Brí were waiting expectantly. “Pardon?”

“Would you consider sparring with us sometime?” Brí asked. “We’ll all be training together starting this week to prepare for whatever we need to do once we get word from Onyx. Would you join us one day?”

Rígan had schooled her face into neutrality, but a hint of challenge lay there. It called to my rarely used competitive side.

“I’d love to.”