Figurehead

thirty-four

"The king is alive, awake and well." Praise the Lord.

The announcement echoes through every hallway, every passage and every room of the palace, descending the steps and continuing through the streets, the dwellings, the people.

I still can't breathe properly, despite having washed my face twice, forced my hair into temporarily behaving and having cleaned my mouth.

No, I can't breathe properly, not when he's sitting opposite me, his vivid blue eyes not leaving mine.

We sit with Lus and Tui in the front room, the firepit between us. Alip and Fiut are probably amongst the other serving-children running amok in the palace and in Anshakim's streets, yelling, "The king is awake! The king is awake!" and waking the city up with the news. Messengers will not be far behind, sending word out to every province and beyond, ensuring every one of the Escatin people knows it.

I still can't believe it.

The ancients offered sacrifices of animals to show their gratitude to the Lord. All I have to give are prayers and myself, and it is never going to be enough, but it is what I can give. So I will give.

When, for the second time, I almost drop a piece of flatbread in the firepit, I drop my gaze, an embarrassed smile trying to curl my lips.

I can see the look Lus flicks between the two of us as he finishes off the last of his creik, tossing the inedible seed-core into the flames. There is definite amusement in the faintest visible curl of his lips. But from the way he stares into the flames, I know he's thinking of Riu.

The silence is heavy. And heated. And not because of the fire.

I can still feel his eyes on me. I can only imagine what his mind was struggling with when he woke. How long was he awake before me? I push these wayward thoughts away, focusing instead on the movements of my hands as I try to finish off the flatbread pieces I took from the pile of food Alip left us with.

Fiut moved his stuff back to his room, somewhere else in the palace. I'm certain he's glad to be free of the duty of cleaning the sleeping king. I don't know where I'm supposed to stay now. There's no way I'm staying in his bedroom now that he's awake. We aren't bound.

Yet.

And the thought is a little overwhelming. The thought that I will be. I think.

The mere fact he's alive is still circling in my mind, over and over. I've accepted it, happily. But it still seems so.. Unreal.

In my periphery, I can see Tui looking between us, glancing at Lus every now and then. I wonder what she must be thinking.

"What did I miss?" Dein asks after a pause. It feels so strange to hear his voice again after all these days. It's like I can't help but notice every inflection of his words now, the rise and fall of his voice. I had thought Keir's- the man in the desert between the empires- voice was enticing, musical. I was wrong. Dein's is.

I stuff the last piece of flatbread in my mouth with the barest of shrugs. Obviously, I can't answer him because my mouth is preoccupied. It's nothing to do with an unwillingness. Nothing at all.

He doesn't know about Sher and Nirs, he doesn't know about Riu. I'm sure he can guess at the resentment we face from the Sirdiu. But still.

"What did I miss?" he repeats, voice lower. And it can't just be me who notices a hint of added pressure, force in his voice.

"Nirs and Sher are gone," Lus answers finally, voice dull. He picks the staff up, holding it up as it stands.

He looks momentarily stunned. I look down at my hands. "The empire knows the name of its second heir," I mutter in the lull.