25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

A week later, it was as if a magical fight had never happened in the throne room. The ash from Aplin's body had been cleared away, and the floor cleaned. A second throne had been moved to join the first, and today, in their first audience as Kings, Gray and Rory sat side by side, holding hands across the space between their respective seats.

"Your Majesties," Anya said, approaching the platform they were sitting on, "one last report, this is a message from the unit you sent to track Rinard. He has not been found, and no trace of him exists."

Gray sighed. He had not expected Rinard to be found, not after what had happened to his consort in this very room, but the effort had been the very least Gray could do, now that he was nominally in charge of the defense of Fontaine. Still, it did appear from Anya's reports, mostly given in her guise as the head of the new informant network, that the nobles had mostly, if not entirely, pledged their support to the new Kings.

"And," Anya continued, "I believe that is everyone who has submitted a proposal to be heard before you."

Gray let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He knew he'd been trained, at least until age eleven, to be a king, but he'd discovered that king-ing was not as simple as he'd believed it was when he'd been a child. It was complicated and difficult and mostly involved making a lot of compromises and then couching those in such attractive terms that everyone believed they'd gotten their own way, when in fact nobody had. And it turned out, he did have a surprising affinity for it. Or maybe that was the man at his side, who had believed in him, and who he believed in, to the very last breath in his body.

"See?" Rory said with a bright grin. "It was not so bad, was it?"

"Well," Gray grumbled, because it had still been slightly stressful. He hadn't been entirely sure he was going to convince John the farrier to accept only three cows for his daughter's hand in marriage, and not five. But love had prevailed, as love had only a week ago, and now the farrier's daughter was going to marry the farmer.

Gray decided it had a pleasant symmetry.

"You did great," Rory said, leaning in to give him a quick kiss.

"You were . . . tolerable," Gray teased, and then turned to get up to lead Rory away from the throne room and hopefully to more pleasurable pursuits, but then out of the corner of his eye, he saw a sight he had never expected to see again.

Gray dropped Rory's hand and stood up slowly with shock racing through every vein in his body.

"You . . ." Gray whispered as a man approached the dais. His face was as familiar to Gray as his own face, his own body, his own mind. He'd been sure a month ago, when they had left the Valley, that he would never again hear that voice, or that smug, certain tone ever again.

And like so many other countless times, Evrard had made sure that Gray was wrong.

"Your Majesty," the man said, bowing, "I would like to offer my stewardship services to the throne of Fontaine."

"You would?" Gray knew his own voice was strangled, but he wasn't as young as he once had been, when he'd been equally as shocked.

"I have heard," the man continued, as if Gray hadn't spoken, "that you had a bit of excitement at your wedding, only last week."

Gray would have rolled his eyes but that was almost certainly not kingly, and likely he would never get away with anything un-kingly ever again. Especially not with the man currently standing in front of them around. "We did," Rory said, a puzzled expression on his face, as he approached where Gray and the man stood.

"I like to think that if I were on the job, nothing of that sort would ever happen again," the man said confidently.

"You would be able to prevent . . . a disgruntled member of the court from unearthing his predecessor's magical lair and turning into an enormous poisonous serpent, hell-bent on interrupting a royal wedding?" Rory asked archly. "That is quite a promise, indeed."

"Indeed," Gray echoed.

"I have much experience in negotiations, and on councils of various kingdoms. And . . ." The man flashed a knowing smile at Gray. "And much experience in educating future princes to be kings. I assume you do not have a child as of yet, but there is still time . . ."

"I would say so," Gray muttered. "We were just married."

"Regardless," the man said, "I offer you my services, such as they are."

"I think . . ." Rory hesitated. "I think we could find a place for you, good sir. And your name?"

The man flashed Gray's husband an incorrigible smile. "My name is Rhys, Your Majesty. And it is excellent to finally meet you."