The Proper Form of Address

Chapter 9

Archer woke slowly, feeling weak and faint and trembly and very unlike himself. He couldn't remember ever feeling so...unwell. He wanted to keep sleeping for a thousand years.

But as he lay there in bed with his eyes closed, he became aware of the fact that he could not smell jasmine. Instead, the room smelled musky, and sharp, and...smoky. That wasn't right. He must have closed his windows. That would be why he felt so unwell. He was being deprived of fresh air. Come to think of it, he couldn't hear the soft shush-ing of the ocean in the distance. Or—wait—no, he could hear it. Couldn't he?

Confused, Archer opened his eyes. He was looking at a ceiling covered over in a heavy dark blue fabric. Archer swallowed his gasp of surprise, beginning to place things, fuzzy flashbacks of memory, a mountain yak moving underneath him, the numbing pain in his extremities, the racking pain of his cough, Trix spotting the city over a bend, getting to the palace, they had gotten to the palace, he was fairly sure...

Archer shifted carefully, taking stock. His whole body felt like an open wound, and, when he looked down, his hands were...tangled in someone's hair. He'd assumed, somehow, in his confusion, that he still had them caught around mountain yak hair, but instead there was an unknown man next to his bed, slumped over apparently asleep, with his head on the mattress by Archer's hip. He was facing away from Archer, so all Archer could see was thick, shaggy hair, blacker than the ebony wood in the coronation room at home. And Archer's fingers were in it.

Archer withdrew his fingers and stared at the man. The doctor? He must be the doctor. Archer had been sick...yes...that was why he felt this way, why he couldn't quite remember... "Um," said Archer weakly, which was no good at all. He looked helplessly at the man and, not knowing what else to do, tugged at his hair, not quite as hard as he'd intended, given the alarming lack of strength that seemed to be stealing over him. Water, Archer thought, exhausted. He'd kill for some water.

The man grunted and rubbed his cheek against Archer's hip.

Archer stilled. Not that he'd been moving. But he held his breath. He would have stopped his heartbeat if he could have.

The man said, "Mmm," and shifted to turn his head so his face was now facing Archer. It was a handsome face, with gently curving lips, and high cheekbones, and thick black eyelashes that matched his hair fanned out against them. The unknown man snuggled up against Archer's hip again and his lips curved more and then he opened his eyes.

Startling eyes. The very, very pale blue of the sky in this odd place. Archer felt the way he had in the snow, sprawled out, the breath shocked out of him, looking into those eyes. And suddenly he knew exactly who this man was, because how could you forget looking into eyes like those?

Those eyes widened as they caught sight of Archer and then he tried to sit up so hastily that he ended up crashing entirely to the floor.

The commotion brought an entire army of bodyguards into the room, and then Trix leaned over him and said jubilantly, "Oh, you're better! Isn't he better? He's better, isn't he? Feel him."

Trix was directing this to the King of Euphonia. Like they were old friends.

The King of Euphonia had picked himself up. His black hair was sticking up all over his head and his shirt was wrinkled and he had a dark growth of stubble across his chin and he was, in general, the least king-like king Archer had ever seen. Not that Archer had ever seen a king. But he'd imagined them before.

"Oh, stop it," said the King, flapping his hand at something, and Archer realized that the army of bodyguards or servants or whatever they were were all bowing crazily all over the place. What the fuck. Maybe Archer was dreaming.

The King set his hand against Archer's forehead and Archer stared at him in alarm and thought, yes, he definitely had to be dreaming.

"He's better," the King said, his eyes holding Archer's, his expression inscrutable.

"I knew it!" Trix enthused, and suddenly threw herself onto Archer without warning in a fierce hug. Then she pulled back. "It's good to see you, sir," she said, smiling at him.

Archer managed to say, "Can I have some water?"