The Proper Form of Address

Chapter 12

"Excuse me, King?" said Trix as Bennet was marching down the corridor, his cloak billowing out behind him.

Bennet paused and turned back to her. Really, he thought, someone should start correcting her as to proper Euphonian forms of address, especially considering how the other attendants in the corridor glared at her as they passed for such disrespect toward him. These little things were going to make Trix and Archer the target of more ire than was necessary, Bennet thought. But he just said, "Yes? What is it?"

"Hi," she said, looking oddly nervous. "The Prince sent me to find you. He wanted to know if you could stop in to see him."

Which made Bennet in turn feel unaccountably nervous. What could Archer want? And why would he be nervous about it, he was technically now Archer's king. "I just saw him," Bennet pointed out.

"I know, sir, he's...vexed about something."

Bennet sighed. "What now?" He started stalking down the corridor toward his bedchamber.

"He's really not a lot of trouble when he's out of bed and mobile and doing things for himself," Trix said earnestly, scurrying in Bennet's wake and trying to avoid the snap of his cloak.

"No, I'm sure he's much more trouble," snapped Bennet, because he could only imagine what trouble Archer would get into. "He goes around hiring mountain yaks and nearly getting himself killed. And he thinks he's boring. I cannot even fathom what an interesting Archer would be like."

"That is exactly what I say about him, sir," said Trix, sounding amused.

Bennet knocked briefly on the door to his bedchamber and strode in as if it was perfectly common for him to be summoned somewhere. "What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, good," said Archer to Trix. "You found him." He turned back to Bennet. "About the caravans—"

"Yes, your chests have arrived. I'm having them brought to you. I said that I would."

"What did you mean when you said you would talk to them about their treatment of me?"

Bennet lifted his eyebrows at Archer. "I meant that I would talk to them about their treatment of you." He became aware suddenly that Archer had changed since Bennet had seen him last. He had bathed, apparently, because his hair was newly damp and curling softly onto his forehead and he was sitting up in bed and he was wearing... "What are you wearing?"

"What did you say to them?" Archer asked, ignoring the question.

As if people ignored Bennet's questions. Bennet was flummoxed enough to say, "I...What? I revoked their licenses, of course."

"No." Archer shook his head. "No, no, no. You can't do that."

"I beg your pardon?" Bennet said before he could help it, and then heard what he'd said and heard the snort of disbelief from Andie in the outer chamber and said, "Fuck," and turned to close the door behind him. "What are you talking about?" he said to Archer, bewildered.

"You can't revoke their licenses. Go back and tell them you were wrong."

Bennet stared at him in amazement. "How do things work in Jadenvale? I can, of course, revoke their licenses. And I am never wrong."

Archer rolled his eyes. "Of course not," he said, and then he threw back the covers and got out of bed.

"What are you doing?" Bennet asked, even as Trix said, "I don't know if—"

"I'm fine," Archer said firmly, waving her off, even though he looked a little paler than he had. "Call back the caravan managers. Let me talk to them. Let me apologize for—"

"Let you apologize? For what?"

"Being me. Surely you've seen that I'm...prickly. Difficult to get along with. It wasn't their fault they didn't want me as a passenger. You can't punish them for that. Trix, tell him."

"Sir," Trix started, sounding uncertain.

"You're mad," Bennet told Archer firmly. "Get back into bed."

Archer frowned. "Don't order me around."

"If you swoon again, I won't catch you this time," Bennet warned him.

"I'm not going to swoon. For fuck's sake. I'm perfectly fine. Trix, go out in the next chamber and tell that attendant, Andie, to do whatever is necessary to get the caravan managers back here—"

Bennet held a hand up toward Trix. "Don't take a single fucking step," he said, and then turned back to Archer. "Your plan is to meet these people in pajamas?"

Archer looked down at the dark blue silk pajamas he was wearing. "Why not? They're nice pajamas."

Bennet snorted. "Yes. They're my pajamas."

There was a moment of silence.

"Oh," said Archer. "I didn't...ask...to wear...your pajamas."

Bennet stared at him.

"Just so you know. In case you thought I...I see your point. I should probably not wear your pajamas. Can I borrow your cape?"

"My cape?" repeated Bennet in disbelief.

"Well, I don't have any clothing at the moment," Archer pointed out, sounding irritated.

"This is the royal cloak," said Bennet. "It's not a fucking cape that I hand out to people."

"Fuck, you Euphonians have more rules about more things."

"Says the man whose country has hospitality statutes."

"Maybe I'll just go out and meet them naked, shall I? Do you think they would notice, as long as I bowed low enough?" Archer bowed dramatically, then said, "Oh, dear," and pitched forward off-balance.

And Bennet practically ran across the room to catch him. It was ridiculous. As if Archer's bodyguard hadn't been standing right there. But Archer caught himself on the bed and straightened and put a hand against his forehead and said faintly, "My head..."

"Yes," said Bennet shortly, and bodily manhandled him into bed. "Of all the fucking ridiculous..." he muttered, pulling the blankets up to Archer's chin firmly. "Stay in this bed," he commanded. "Stay in this bed and get better and stop being an idiot."

"Will you go talk to the caravan managers for me?" asked Archer evenly.

"I don't know why you think what happened with the caravan managers is your fault."

"Most things are. Didn't my sister tell you?"

"No. I'm beginning to think I need to have a much longer discussion with your sister than I had."

"It makes sense that she left a lot out," said Archer.

"Shut up," Bennet bit out at him. "Just stop talking now, immediately. Please."

Archer chewed on his lower lip but didn't say anything.

"I'll talk to the caravan managers," said Bennet, even though he hadn't meant to say any such thing.

But it made Archer smile, not quite as wide and uninhibited as the night he'd been delirious with fever but still quite lovely and annoying, because frankly Bennet would do a lot of things to win that smile from Archer. Archer didn't smile nearly enough.

"Thank you," Archer said, only sounding a little smug.