Allegiance

Chapter 39

In the human suite of the floating castle, Blaine sat at the kitchen table, brooding over the council meeting. Not only was he angry about the fact that Priscilla practically undermined him, but he was livid about the development with Arthur. All of his careful planning over the years, making his family nobility, making sure to keep Arthur hidden from the other royal families, and even trying to get him to fancy his daughter seemed to fly out the window, all because of the Eraliths.

Blaine took a sip of his wine, staring at the empty plate of food in front of him, seething about how Arthur was slipping through his fingers, all because of a stupid elven princess. He'd been contemplating possible scenarios of how to separate Arthur from the Eraliths, ranging from simple gossip to outright assassination. After all, he couldn't be infatuated with the elven princess if she was dead. But he knew that her death could cause more trouble in the longer scheme of things.

Blaine grumbled, leaning back into his chair and downing the rest of his glass. Leaning his head back against the headrest, eyes to the ceiling, he rubbed his temples, trying to lessen the headache the Eraliths caused. He needed a solution to his problem, a way to secure Arthur, but he couldn't come up with a viable solution. 

The door to the family suite opened, and Blaine turned his gaze toward the door, seeing Curtis walk in. Blaine's brows furrowed, seeing his son wearing a heavy cloak with a simple shirt and pants, unbecoming of royalty.

"You missed dinner," Blaine said flatly, in a way of greeting. "And," He eyed Curtis' apparel again with a raised brow, "what the hell are you wearing? It's not fit for a prince."

Curtis chuckled and smirked, "That's exactly why I wore it, father." He unstrapped and tossed his cloak onto the chair before approaching and sitting down at the table beside his father. Curtis leaned back into his chair, looking at his father with a proud smile. "I didn't want people to discover who I was while I was away."

"Why?" Blaine asked, pouring himself another glass of wine from the pitcher. "And where did you go?"

"To the Dancing Dragon. It's a tavern in Xyrus. And," Curtis leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table, smiling wide. "I was taking care of your little Arthur problem."

Blaine was about to take a sip of his wine when he stilled at Curtis' words, his glass of wine mere inches from his lips. Wondering what exactly his son had done, Blaine narrowed his eyes at Cutis, staring at him intently, "Explain."

Curtis propped his chin in his left hand, "Remember this morning, how you said you needed a way to separate Arthur from the elves?" Blaine lowered his glass of wine, nodding stiffly. "Well, I've found a way to do just that. You see, father, you've been going about this the wrong way."

Already angry with earlier events, Blaine's blood began to simmer, "And how exactly have I been doing that, boy?"

"Cranky, are we?" Curtis chuckled, and Blaine practically snarled. Curtis motioned for his father to calm down, leaned back in his chair, and continued. "You see, you've been trying to figure out a way to separate the elves from Arthur. But what if we separated Arthur from the elves?"

"Is this the point where I ask how we do that? Or are you going to get to the fucking point," Blaine snapped.

Seeing his father was in no mood for games, Curtis shrugged, "Forgive me for wanting a flare of the dramatics. Anyway, I went to the Tavern in Xyrus to acquire assistance from a group of mercenaries to help control Arthur."

Blaine scoffed, "Mercenaries? Please. What the hell are they going to do? Arthur could decimate them with a snap of his fingers."

"That's true," Curtis nodded before he smiled viciously. "But they're not going after Arthur. They're going after the ones Arthur loves most."