Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

16

Matei woke the next morning to the sound of hesitant knocking on his door. He rolled over in his bed and looked blearily toward the balcony windows, trying to judge the time of day from the light filtering in through the curtains. Having spent only two nights back in the palace, he still felt disoriented when he saw the room. He slid out of bed, groping for a tunic and finding one crumpled on the floor.

He opened the door to see a familiar, but unexpected, face: the late emperor's most trusted advisor, Yorek. At his side was the Arcborn guard set to watch while Matei had slept; she had drawn her sword, which had certainly not set Yorek at his ease. Sweat glistened on the old man's bald pate.

"Councilor," Matei said, unable to conceal his surprise. "Good morning."

"Forgive me for disturbing you, Your...Highness," Yorek said, offering a smooth bow. He spoke with caution, as if uncertain how to address Matei. "I did not think you would still be abed."

Matei looked back into his room toward the windows of the balcony, trying again to judge the time by the angle of the light. "I cannot say I have slept easily in a good many years," he said, turning back. "What can I do for you?"

Yorek hesitated. "Well, my question is more the reverse. I am afraid I don't know how to be subtle about this, so I shan't be."

"Good. I value directness." Matei gave the councilor a tight smile. He had never particularly liked Yorek, but had never disliked him, either; the councilor had been a frequent presence in his childhood, but had never shown much of an interest in him. Now, knowing that the old man had been a close confidant of Emperor Korvan—and given that their most recent interaction had been when Yorek had escorted Mhera and Matei toward the executioner a few days before—Matei doubted that Yorek could be trusted.

"Then I'll be direct. I have heard...whispers around the palace that Prince Kaori has refused the throne. They say he has demanded you take the crown."

"So he has."

"Will you, Your Highness?"

Matei sighed. He stepped into his room, smoothing down the rumpled front of his shirt, and waved his hand to beckon Yorek inside, too. The guard outside made to follow him, but Matei did not think himself likely to be in danger at Yorek's hand. "Thank you, Lesha," he said, with a subtle shake of his head. "I'll leave the door open."

He turned his attention back to the councilor as he strode toward the chairs arranged near the window of his childhood room. "Please, Yorek. I haven't been a Highness for a very long time."

"But you will be again?" Yorek followed and accepted the seat Matei indicated, raising his brows with obvious interest.

"I will," said Matei, hoping his words sounded more confident than he felt.

"I do not suppose there will be a place in the palace for a councilor who served the old regime." Yorek spoke calmly, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his voice.

Matei sank down into the seat across from the councilor. The question was not a light one, and Matei did not know how to respond. "I haven't given much thought to what we will do next. Kaori saw to the immediate needs of the city—putting out the fires, securing the gates—but if you thought we had gone far enough down the path to have put together a council, I'm afraid you gave me too much credit, my lord."

Yorek said nothing. He lowered his gaze, pensive.

Noting Yorek's serious expression, Matei studied him for a moment, wondering what to do with this man, his father's creature. "Yorek, how much of the truth did you know?"