The Mournful King

XI. Reunion

The Silent did not feel too relieved as they passed into Tamaris again, even though the road back had been uneventful. These streets were a reminder that soon, they would be running across Naris Velane and whatever traps she had laid for them. The capital's hustle and bustle seemed unchanged and though people did look at them as they passed, it seemed more curious than hostile. There were murmurs that the Silent caught of a black knight, but Andraste was not wearing her armor at the moment and so they passed without much scrutiny.

"We can leave our horses at the palace stables," Andraste said as they approached the heart of Tamaris and the palace within the inner walls. "But I don't plan on staying too long."

The mute man nodded his agreement. He didn't want to spend any more time in Tamaris than they had to. Confronting Naris might have been inevitable, but running afoul of Yssan nobility beyond her was not his first choice of pastimes. He was just grateful that his neck had mostly healed with the help of that green salve and some rest on the trail. They hadn't raced back, even if their slower progress gave Naris more time to scheme.

They left their horses at the stables, in the care of the grooms, and were about to head into the palace, when Andraste froze. Her eyes had fixed on a white stallion being led back into the stables. It was on the small side for a warhorse, but it had an Eth warrior brand on it and it snorted and pulled aggressively like one. The Silent turned and looked at her questioningly.

A smile was spreading across Andraste's face, swiftly becoming a grin. "I know that horse. It belongs to—" Her words turned into a shriek of laughter, like that of a giggling girl, when someone tackled her from behind and swept her up off her feet, into their arms. "Dayo, put me down!"

The Silent gaped at the man who had her in his arms. He knew her attacker on sight, though they had never been formally introduced. Ekundayo the Righteous, Warrior-King of Ethilir, was a stocky, handsome man with charcoal skin and onyx eyes, his curly beard trimmed into a neat square. His stance and back were crooked from drawing an incredibly powerful bow his whole life and he was rumored to be equally wicked with a sword. At the moment, he was carrying neither, but he was still wearing his silver lamellar armor, the solid breastplate emblazoned with winged lions and bulls, over a rich, blue gambeson with gold embellishments. There was no way to mistake him for anyone else. This was the man who had never been unseated in a match or battle. He was supposedly the most perfect living picture of a chivalric ruler: faithful, honorable, generous, and just. And yet, here he was, chuckling as a sorceress squirmed to free herself from his grip.

"From lioness to kitten in a heartbeat, Andraste. You haven't changed a bit," Ekundayo said with amusement as he set her down. The grim-faced bodyguards with him had cracked smiles, apparently not surprised by their king's conduct.

Andraste blushed furiously. "And you're still such a rogue!" She smoothed out her hair and clothes, trying to scowl at the dark-skinned man and failing miserably as that smile came back. "I'll tell your lovely wife you've taken to manhandling young ladies if you're not careful."

The King of Ethilir laughed, a rich rumble of amusement. "Yejide understands that you need to be taught humility, Andi." Before she could retort, he turned his attention to the Silent. "And who is this? Does the young lady have a suitor?"

"This is the Silent. He's a friend." She turned to look at her companion, amused by his agape expression. "Silent, this is His Majesty Ekundayo the Righteous, King of the Sunlit Lands, Bane of the Talinese, First Among the Eth Princes—"

Ekundayo covered her mouth with his hand, his grin white against his dark skin. "She teases," he said conversationally. "I detest all my titles. They make me sound so arrogant."