Union (8 page)

“How do we know this information can be trusted?” Ryneq asked, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Who did it come from, Nysad?”

“One of our patrols ran into merchants coming out of Rodeth. They’d had trouble with a few members of the Rodethian Army and were more than willing to tell us what they knew.”

“And you trust what they have to say?”

Nykin felt as skeptical as Ryneq. They could easily be more of Seran’s spies.

Nysad scoffed. “No, not at all. But if there’s even a hint of truth in it, then we need to be prepared.”

“Agreed. We can’t afford to ignore it.” Ryneq turned to face Nykin and hesitated.

“If you need to call off—” Nykin started, but Ryneq was quick to interrupt him.

“No. The ceremony will go ahead as planned. But….”

He looked torn, and Nykin refused to be the cause of it.

Ignoring the fact that they weren’t alone—Nysad had seen worse things—Nykin stepped into Ryneq’s space and kissed him. He may have been a little rougher than he’d intended, but he was getting a little angry at the way this day was turning out. If only Seran had met the same fate as Hatak.

“How about this,” Nykin said softly, drawing back to meet Ryneq’s eyes. “We have the ceremony, start the feast, and then you can quietly slip away with whoever you need to discuss this new development with. I’ll stay and celebrate with the riders and the guards.”

Ryneq’s dark eyes searched his for a long time, but Nykin held his gaze. This was exactly the right thing to do, and they both knew it.

“Thank you.”

Ryneq looked like he wanted to say more, but Nysad was starting to shift uncomfortably, and Nykin decided to put him out of his misery.

“We should get going. They’ll be waiting for us.” Nykin felt a frisson of excitement run through him for probably the first time since he’d agreed to go through with this. The enormity of what they were doing finally hit him—he was going to be officially recognized as Ryneq’s chosen partner—this was essentially their wedding day.

Nysad bowed his head to Ryneq and left to take his place for the ceremony. As soon as the door clicked shut, Nykin found himself shoved up against it, with Ryneq’s mouth covering his. “This is becoming a bit of a habit,” Nykin gasped out when Ryneq finally eased up.

Ryneq shrugged unapologetically. “I don’t see you complaining.” He grinned as he moved back a little and tugged Nykin out of the way so they could open the door again. “If we’re late, I’m telling Cerylea it was your fault.”

Nykin laughed and pushed him out into the hallway. “Go.”

They walked along in silence. The palace was eerily quiet for this time of day—most of the people either in the kitchens or out in the palace courtyard waiting for them to arrive. At the entrance to the great hall, Ryneq stopped, a small smile on his face as he turned back to face Nykin. He reached for Nykin’s hand, linking their fingers, and Nykin’s heart stuttered.

“Last chance to change your mind.”

Ryneq was still smiling as he said it, but Nykin knew he was serious.

Nykin shook his head. Now that the moment had arrived, he realized he’d never been surer of anything. “I want this.”

He took a deep breath as Ryneq placed a hand on the heavy wooden doors and pushed. No going back now.

T
HE
CEREMONY
itself seemed to take no time at all. Nykin was a little overwhelmed by the number of people crammed into the courtyard below—it seemed nearly all of Torsere had turned out to see them.

Cerylea looked radiant in a dress of dark emerald, her long blonde hair piled up in a complicated design that defied gravity, and she smiled encouragingly at Nykin as the priest beckoned him and Ryneq forward. A hush fell over the people watching, and Nykin swallowed nervously.

“King Ryneq, ruler of Torsere and protector of its people.” The priest kept Ryneq’s gaze as he spoke, barely glancing at the book he held in his hands. He then turned to face Nykin. “Nykin, bonded rider to the great dragon, Fimor.”

Nykin felt nervous laughter threatening to tumble out at the title, but managed to stifle it.

“You stand here before the Gods of our realm and ask them to bless this union, do you not?”

“We do,” they both answered.

“King Ryneq, do you trust this man to be loyal to you and your people, and dutifully represent the kingdom as your consort?”

Ryneq caught Nykin’s eye and smiled, and Nykin felt himself relax a little. “Yes.”

“Nykin,” the priest said, and Nykin glanced at him before turning back to look at Ryneq. “Do you swear to do your duty as king’s consort, be loyal to the kingdom, and protect your king unto your dying breath?”

“Yes.” Nykin thought the wording was rather old-fashioned, and heavily weighted in Ryneq’s favor, but he smiled anyway.

They spoke the traditional vows, listened to the priest as he asked the Gods to bless their union, then kissed in front of everyone to complete the ceremony.

Nykin blushed as the crowd below cheered, but Ryneq just pulled him in for another, deeper one. In fact, if Cerylea hadn’t cleared her throat rather loudly, Nykin was almost certain they’d have treated the people of Torsere to much more than that.

Ryneq stepped toward the edge of the balcony, and the noise died down a little, allowing him to speak. “As a celebration of our union, let the feast begin!”

Cheers erupted again, as carts of meats, fruit, and breads were wheeled out into the courtyard. Tables were set up along the edges with barrels of wine hoisted on top, and Nykin could only imagine the state everyone would be in come morning.

With the party below in full swing, Nykin and Ryneq eventually left the balcony through the wide double doors. They entered the great hall to loud applause and congratulations from the dragon riders and Ryneq’s personal guard. Eldin, Nysad, and Cerylea joined them at their table, and everyone in the room fell silent as Ryneq stood, cup in hand, to give his speech before the eating began.

“It is my great honor to present to you my Royal Consort, Nykin—bonded dragon rider and member of the Torserian Army.” He raised his cup to Nykin and took a long drink before offering it over for Nykin to do the same.

The hall erupted into cheers and whistles as Nykin drained the whole thing and banged it down onto the table.

Nykin caught sight of Selene and Jaken at one of the tables over to the right. They both grinned and cheered loudly, and Nykin laughed as Jaken clearly forgot he was still holding his cup of wine and promptly spilled it all down Selene’s back.

Food was served, and the hall quieted down to a low murmur of excited conversation as everyone began to eat.

“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Cerylea said as she nudged Nykin with her elbow.

Nykin smiled back at her and shook his head. “No.” He shifted in his seat until he faced her. “Thank you for doing this for us. Today would never have happened if it wasn’t for you.”

Cerylea blushed and cast a furtive glance over at Ryneq. He was laughing at something Nysad was telling him and looked remarkably relaxed, considering the news they’d received earlier. “I’d do anything for my brother, Nykin. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him this happy.”

Ryneq turned toward them, as though he’d heard them talking about him. He smiled at his sister and threw Nykin a look that had him wishing they were back in their rooms already. Nykin sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

As soon as the celebrations were underway, Ryneq pulled Nykin to one side of the hall. “I have to go.” He placed his hand on the back of Nykin’s neck and drew him forward into a quick kiss. “I’m sorry. I’ll be as quick as I can, but—”

“It’s okay. This isn’t something you can put off until tomorrow.” Nykin leaned closer so his mouth was right next to Ryneq’s ear. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He pressed his hips into Ryneq’s ever so slightly, and Ryneq closed his eyes with a groan.

“Nykin,” he hissed, sliding his hands down over Nykin’s leather-clad ass.

Nykin was half-hard already, and he could feel Ryneq was in much the same state.

“You need to stop that. These pants won’t hide anything, and I have to walk across the room to the main doors in front of everyone.”

Nykin laughed, burying his head in Ryneq’s shoulder, then dutifully shuffled back so they were no longer touching. They stayed like that for a few moments longer, getting themselves under control.

“I’ll see you later.” Ryneq eased Nykin back, both hands on his shoulders. “Don’t get undressed. I want to do it.”

Nykin swallowed, his mouth a little dry suddenly, and nodded.

“Later, Nykin.”

Nykin slumped back against the wall and watched Ryneq cross the room, heading for Cerylea’s private quarters with Eldin, Nysad, and Cerylea close behind him.

C
ERYLEA
’
S
ROOMS
were an identical layout to Ryneq’s but decorated in soft shades of blue and purple instead. She led them over to the table and chairs in the sitting area and poured everyone a drink.

“So,” Ryneq began, rolling out the map that Nysad had brought with him. He tapped his finger on the dark line marking the border between Rodeth and Torsere. “How did Seran manage to get from the palace all the way over to his castle in Rodeth without getting caught?” He looked up at Nysad. “Tell us everything you got from the merchants.”

Nysad leaned over the map. “We picked them up here.” He pointed to just below where Ryneq had his finger. “One of the patrols was on its routine border sweep when they spotted them.” He sighed and leaned forward on his hands staring at the map. “I don’t know how he avoided all our patrols, including the dragon riders, but the merchants were positive Seran had returned to Rodeth. They said the castle was a hive of activity, and rumor was that they were preparing for the arrival of the current leader of Athisi.”

“Slippery Rodethian eel!” Ryneq spat as he pushed back from the table and walked over to the large double doors at the back of the room.

They opened out onto Cerylea’s balcony, and even with them closed, Ryneq could hear the celebrations going on in the courtyard. He should be with Nykin—today was essentially their wedding day, for all intents and purposes—but he was stuck here instead, discussing something that might turn out to be nothing after all. But his duty was to protect his people, and thank the Gods Nykin understood that. Ryneq had every intention of making it up to him later.

“So.” Cerylea’s voice—clear and commanding—pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned back around to face the table again. “If we assume the worst—that Seran has renewed his allegiance with Athisi and is planning another attack on Torsere—then we need to do what we can to protect ourselves.”

Both Eldin and Nysad hummed their agreement. Everyone in the room was aware of what Cerylea was thinking, but Ryneq asked the question anyway.

“You want to move the wedding forward?”

Cerylea nodded, and Ryneq sighed, thinking of everything that would entail. “By how much?” They weren’t due to leave for another two weeks yet, and the wedding itself wasn’t scheduled until another week after that.

Cerylea sat back in her chair and sighed. Ryneq suddenly noticed how tired she looked, and wondered how he’d managed to miss it before. He’d talk to her about that after they finished here.

“If the elves agree to accommodate us earlier, how soon can we be ready to leave?” she asked, eyeing the three men around the table.

Eldin spoke first. “The dragon riders are ready when you are. I already have the names of the riders who will accompany the boats and those who will stay here to patrol.” He paused then, shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat.

Ryneq had an idea of what was on his mind, and he wanted to nip it in the bud before things got awkward. “While Nykin is on duty, he is under your command, Eldin. I won’t interfere with whatever orders you give him.”

Ryneq would not impress Nykin if he tried to start telling Eldin what to do concerning him. But Nykin also had responsibilities as Ryneq’s consort. “However, I would remind you that Nykin has been invited to Alel by Prince Morkryn himself and will be accompanying me to the wedding.”

Eldin smiled wryly but looked considerably more relaxed. “Yes, Sire. And with that in mind, I thought it prudent to have Nykin and Fimor included in the escort for the wedding party.”

“What about the palace guard and our army?” Cerylea asked, glancing between Ryneq and Nysad.

As king, Ryneq had the final say concerning the Torserian Army, but he left the day-to-day running of things to Nysad and his men. He was aware of Nysad’s plans, though, and gestured for him to answer the question.

“The men already have their orders, Your Highness. Peros will accompany you on the ships as my second-in-command, while I remain here. We’ve organized a rotating patrol with the remaining dragon riders—our borders will be covered to the best of our ability. The majority of the guard will remain here to protect the palace and the surrounding villages, should we come under attack.”

“What about you?”

Ryneq cast an eye over Cerylea’s quarters, noting the trunk at the bottom of her bed. A padlock secured it, and Ryneq wouldn’t be surprised if it were already packed too.