Golden [bxb]

Chapter Seven

I stirred slowly, as I often did, my body cocooned in layers of soft blankets. I curled my fingers around each hair of the furs; the cold outside couldn't touch me within the comfort of my bed. My nose snorted with a contented and soft snore.

I wasn't used to the chill of Omorrow, how it threatened to nip any part of me that I left exposed, but I had somehow managed to sleep surprisingly well the previous night; and that was despite the towering presence of the god-king only a few feet away from me. The king's warmth and the strange peace I'd felt had made me sleep more soundly than I had in weeks.

Then, the most annoying voice that ever dared to disturb my beauty sleep interrupted my half-conscious thoughts. My fingers clenched as my usual slow-waking routine was shattered by the voice ruthlessly, the storybook ideal of a young, beautiful prince waking to the sounds of tweeting birds burned away in a miserable fire. 

Then— there was an intense light.

"Good noon, Lord Artemys," Spirit chirped from the corner of the room as he threw open the curtains.

I gave him a silent groan, hiding under my blankets. What did that horrible man mean by good noon? What was so good about the noon?  Did they expect me to be up at dawn like some soldier? I shifted under the covers and turned my back to Spirit— who had obviously lost his mind.

"Lord Artemys~" Spirit sang. If I could hiss, I would have.

"More," I signed lazily, offering him the privilege of a response as my hand poked out of the blanket.

Spirit, still chipper as ever, approached but remained at a respectful distance. "I'm afraid I cannot oblige you more sleep, Lord Artemys. His Majesty would be displeased if I let you sleep the day away."

I sighed, not at all dramatically and completely validated in my frustration, and threw the blanket off. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching my arms high above my head with a silent yawn.

I could feel Spirit's eyes on me as the man continued to talk, bustling around the room, preparing my clothes for the day. Spirit had a way of being endlessly talkative and chipper, something that I was only now realizing might be more of an annoyance than a comfort.

No, I lectured myself inside now that the grogginess was settling, that wasn't true. Even if it was annoying, Spirit was my guide in this unfamiliar land, and he was a kind one. It could have been worse. It could have been a man like Arthur— lecturing and scolding him and wrangling him all the time like some child...

Something stupid caught in my throat at the thought of his dumb, idiot face.

Still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and nothing else, I glanced over to the god-king's bed. It was empty.

"Where king?" I signed to him simply with a frown, feeling oddly unsettled by the vacant bed.

Spirit hesitated to answer my question, and I could see him struggling to interpret my hands, even as they moved slow and articulately. I wasn't used to having to be so careful with how I spoke, but I tried. I decided to rephrase.

"Where big man?"

"Ah! His Majesty!" Spirit lit up, proud of himself for having interpreted me correctly. I tapped my nose. Then, Sprit winced. "N-Not that His Majesty is overweight or anything... Er—His Majesty rises at dawn every day, Lord Artemys."

Great. An early bird kind of man. I knew I didn't like him.

"He figured you were sleeping in because you were exhausted from travelling so far," Spirit continued. "He didn't want to disturb you. Should I tell His Majesty that you would prefer him to wake you more affectionately?"