(The Dark Servant)Midnight Matters, A. Ellas [primary phonics books .txt] 📗

retorted. “You cannot declare me your heir against my will. No matter how many council votes you hold.”

“The Gods decided that you would be born my eldest. Your God in particular sent you back. Think, Araken, why? He could have sent an envoy with training and we would have treated with him. But no, He chose to reveal your past and reunite us.”

“Jethain is your heir. He is the Crown Prince,” said Rak, his voice low and hard. “I am here for him, to forge an alliance with him. That is why I was sent here, to be reunited with, and support, my brother’s bid for the throne and the end of slavery in this land.”

“If you are so sure of that, why didn’t your God tell you before He sent you here? Araken, Araken, you always were a stubborn boy. Lord Zotien knows this. He sent you here to shock you back to your senses.”

Rak glared at Owain. “Your Majesty, you and I both know that the Koilathan people will never accept a dark servant who is a pervert as their King.”

Jethain choked back a laugh.

“Oh, yes, you have to give up the pervert part. You understand, son.”

“Ix,

I do not understand! I will not ever

give up

my love of handsome men.”

Jisten gripped Jethain’s shoulder so hard that the prince winced.

“Oh, you think that’s love?” Owain looked distressed. “I hate to break this to you, son, but that isn’t.”

“I can’t feel my arm,” Jethain whispered to Jisten.

“It is more akin to love than what you share with that creature you call your Queen,” retorted Rak.

“That’s an unfair gut shot, son,” Owain reproved, but didn’t contradict him.

“Now that this ridiculous issue is settled, you can send those packers away.” Rak glared at a servant putting a knickknack in a box.

“Jisten, my hand is blue,” Jethain whispered urgently. Jisten’s hand fell away but his grey gaze never left the king and Rak.

“Off with you. Go make the guest quarters into the crown prince’s suite.” Owain waved a royal, ringed hand at the servant.

Rak groaned, and then brightened. “Please paint the walls a dark green and recover the furniture with grey and black upholstery.”

“Paint a royal crest every two feet,” Owain said.

“And then paint Zotien’s sigil over it and the Thezi symbol as well.”

The servant whimpered and looked at the king.

“Just have the walls painted without embellishment,” said Rak. “I will paint the sigils.”

“Have the royal painter put all the crests up, and the crown prince will paint the sigils,” Owain told the servant.

Rak sighed and gave up. He leaned over and whispered to Jethain, “If I have to publically disqualify myself from the throne, I will. Brother, you are still the crown prince. I promise you, I will not take your crown, or allow anyone else to take it and force it upon me.”

“What’s the difference?” Jethain said in defeat. “Neither of us can hold the throne. Let Father have his dreams.”

Rak put a hand on Jethain’s sore shoulder. “You will hold the throne, brother, and I will help you keep it.” Night flames flared, healing the bruises.

“So, it’s agreed then,” Owain pronounced. “Good of you not to make a fuss, Jethain.”

“Ai,

we are agreed that Jethain is your heir,” snapped Rak.

“You can keep him around. He’s a decent sort. Won’t assassinate you for the throne, and he’d make an excellent Lord Marshal,” repeated Owain, as if he hadn’t heard a word Rak had been saying.

Rak grabbed Jisten and kissed him deeply, full tongue. When he finally let go, he asked Owain, “Shall I do that in the Throne Room? The Great Hall? The plaza before the Sun Temple? I amnot your heir!”

Jisten gazed at Rak in utter astonishment, but there was no anger or protest in the captain’s demeanor.

“Son,” protested Owain, wincing. Then his expression grew calculating. “Oh, just do that in private. And really, don’t pick on Jisten the Pure, son. That’s not fair. When you ascend, you can have all sorts of slave boys sent to your quarters. It’s good to be the king.”

“My God considers slavery to be a crime of the greatest order. Slavers are under a death sentence in Okyro.”

“That could pose a problem, son. Better soften that stance.”

“I will not soften on that one. If you thought I would be easier for your slaveowning nobles to handle, you were gravely mistaken. I will be far, far worse than Jethain. I will do more than outlaw slavery. I will hunt slavers and slave-owners down with great vigor.”

“Well, there goes the nobility,” Owain said. “You’ll rule by love of the populace?”

“I. Will. Not. Rule!” Rak was ready to stamp his feet. He’d lost his patience and his temper.

“There, there, son. It will be fine,” Owain soothed. “I do so love these family chats, but I must go now. Jethain, do brief Araken on what he needs to know. At least the Captaincy won’t change.” The king looked at the stunned captain.

Rak’s wings flared again. “ Ai, please go, I am sure you have much important things to do.” What he wanted to say w a s please go before I run you through.

Owain walked out regally. “Why hasn’t Zotien done anything? Such as when the council voted?” Jethain asked. “Father does have a point about that.”

“ I have not violated any of my Lord’s laws,” Rak said. “They cannot force me to violate my vows—their proclamations mean nothing.” He offered the two men a cryptic smile. “And now that the morning crises are over, it is time for me to sleep. Try not to hurt yourself for a few hours, please.” Jisten chuckled when Jethain stuck his tongue out at Rak. The dark priest chose not to notice as he turned and left the two to their own devices.

Chapter Twelve: Summoned to Play

Rak obeyed the summoning silently, slipping out of bed without disturbing Scorth. He paused to change into the slave tunic that