Chronicles of Efia: Dawn of the Desert King

Chapter Eight

"Hey," Fulbright said calmly.

Keir lowered his gaze and turned around to see Fulbright standing a few yards away. He took a step back, contorting his mouth as he readied his words for his defense. Fulbright lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. He took a deep breath as he moved toward Keir as if he were approaching a scared fawn.

"Are you alright?" Fulbright asked.

"What?" Keir blinked hard at Fulbright's concerning tone.

"Look, I know you don't care spit for me, but today was unlike-"

"Don't, Fulbright," Keir interjected. "You know this isn't the first time you saw me behave this way. You or your little stuck up Alodian friend-"

Fulbright cleared his throat. "Xan was six. I hardly think he knew what he was saying or seeing when he began to prophesy."

"Yeah, but you were old enough," Keir spat back. "I saw the look in your eyes, Fulbright."

"It wasn't about the prophecy, Keir," Fulbright retaliated. "You started choking Xan while he was in the middle of his prophecy."

Keir rolled his eyes. "And I suppose that gave you the right to talk to me like I was trash?"

Fulbright fell silent, unable to find any suitable justification for his childhood actions. "I was ten, Keir. I was scared back then. A stupid, scared ten-year-old boy who said a lot of stupid things to hide his fear."

"Still doesn't sound like an apology," Keir muttered as he pushed his hair away from his face, the white strands of hair splintering in the sea of dark curls. As he looked toward Fulbright again, he bowed to one knee. Fulbright looked at him confused.

"My, something must be extremely important out here for you to be missing a meal, Fulbright," came a gentle voice from behind Fulbright.

It was hard to distinguish whether or not Queen Leif was walking or gliding toward Fulbright and Keir, but either way, her regal entrance into the conversation mesmerized both of the young elves. She walked past Fulbright and laid her slender flingers on Keir's shoulder. He looked up slowly, his hair tousled loosely over his left eye. She greeted him with a smile so genuine and rich, Fulbright could see the scowl on Keir's face, dissipating.

"Master Keir, so glad you can join us this evening," Queen Leif said warmly as she gestured for him to stand.

"Your Highness is very kind to invite me," Keir stammered.

"Your mother tells me that you did very well in your examinations today," Leif continued. Keir winced but nodded. Fulbright noticed that his mother did not give away her knowledge of his presumed folly. She slipped her arm under his and smiled. "I wondered if you could escort me back to my table," the queen replied.

"What about his Highness?" Keir asked, referring to Fulbright.

Coming from Keir, this formal address caught Fulbright completely off-guard, and he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and laugh. His mother waved a hand at Keir.

"Fulbright doesn't need an escort, but you are sweet to consider it," the queen replied.

Keir's lips parted into a grin. "I would be delighted to escort her royal Highness."

And there it was, the gift that Fulbright could not humble himself enough to give to Keir. Forgiveness. The list of offenses that he had against Keir kept Fulbright from feeling any sense of compassion for him. Yet somehow it was easier for Fulbright to ask for Keir to understand and forgive his past without him ever recognizing his own need to forgive Keir for his.