Chapter Six

I backed off from the King after that. I did manage to lure him into some polite conversation, but I didn”t flirt again. I wanted to be invited to his table again.

That night, I slept well in my guest bed. It was soft, yet supportive, and I woke without any of the aches and pains I usually got from my old mattress. If nothing else, I”d leave Latur well-rested.

I didn”t want to chance breakfast in the dining hall, not knowing whether the King would be there or if I”d have to fend for myself. So I had a breakfast tray delivered to my room. I ate looking over my notes for the garden, then gathered up the garden plans, shoved them in my leather work bag, and rushed out the door.

It was almost startling to get outside and find the weather balmy. My friends in Sken would be freezing their balls off. But there I was, facing an afternoon of chafed balls instead of frozen ones. I”d take the chafing over freezing any day.

I set my satchel down, pulled out my tools, and got to work. By midday, I had made it only two feet into the garden but had a pile of weeds and branches that came up to mid-chest on me. I was also rethinking my preference for chafed balls.

Swiping at my forehead with my sleeve, I stared across the garden. Two feet felt like nothing, but it was because the garden was at least sixty feet across. So, I had cleared over a hundred square feet of ground. Still, at this rate, it would take weeks to pull out the weeds. Just the weeds. I”m not talking about the other plants that had wandered into the garden and taken root. One such wanderer offered me some refreshment, so I was all right with leaving them for later.

“Wild strawberries,” I murmured appreciatively as I picked a few.

I took them with me to the colonnade steps, sat down there, and bit into the red flesh. The ripe flavor made me groan. There was nothing like a fresh berry on a hot day. Especially when you”d spent most of the day toiling in a garden.

“Master Sebastian?”

I turned to see one of the servants standing behind me. “Yes?”

“I have your lunch tray. Unless you”d like to dine in your room?”

“No, this is perfect. Thank you so much for bringing it to me. I probably would have worked through lunch.”

“We take care of our guests.” The man bowed and set the tray down. “Just leave it here when you”re done. I”ll return for it.”

“Thank you.”

I finished my strawberries first, then ate the soup and bread. At first, I was annoyed that they”d sent hot soup for me to eat on a hot day, but it turned out to be exactly what I needed. After eating it, I felt oddly cooler. I have no idea why. Maybe it was magic soup.

After my meal, I went back to work. I spent a few more hours out there, then went back to my room to shower and dress for dinner. I had to wear my old clothes since I didn”t want to show up in the same stuff from the night before. In addition to heavier work garments, I had brought my summer clothing to Latur, and I was glad for my foresight. But even my summer clothes were made of thicker material than the stuff King Shaleros had sent me. Thicker and coarser fabric.

Again, I was ignored by the courtiers. It looked as if the King”s actions hadn”t made a whit of difference. But racism isn”t something that can be changed with one dinner. I shrugged it off and went to sit against the wall again. Honestly, it was nice to sit in what I considered a normal chair. The low furniture was comfortable, and the table was set a bit higher than the couches so that it was similar to eating at a regular dining table, but I missed sitting with my feet firmly on the floor. I just wasn”t suave enough to pull off lounging on pillows while I dined. I ended up sitting up straight with my legs out before me, below the table.

Two Dragon knights entered the dining hall, and I shot to my feet. Right behind them came the Dragon King. He wore no crown, and I wondered if he ever did. Not that anyone would mistake him for a mere knight. His bearing alone was a clue, but it was the way he stared right through people that gave him away. Shaleros the Indifferent. The King that didn”t give a fuck.

And yet, he had sent a knight into another kingdom to fetch a Master of Vegetation to revive his dead mate”s garden.

That didn”t seem so indifferent to me.

I bowed when the King approached me. As I straightened, I saw him wave me after him. Gunrel, who had taken a position before the dais again, barely glanced at me as I passed by. We hadn”t spoken since he”d left me with the King the day before. I”d half expected him to show up at my bedroom after dinner. But he hadn”t. And now, he was acting as if I was a stranger. What the fuck?

Scowling at Gunrel, I climbed the steps, then waited for the King to get settled on his couch. Once he was elegantly draped over the pillows, I plopped far less elegantly onto my chair. The King didn”t notice my lack of grace, just nodded at a servant.

Immediately, dinner service began. Several platters came to the King”s table first, each one tantalizing me with mouthwatering aromas. I breathed in deeply, content to eat with my nose while the King filled his plate. When he was done, I served myself and set into the meal with relish.

After a few minutes of silence, the King looked at me. “You are quiet tonight, Sebastian.”

“I”m sorry, Your Majesty.” I turned toward him. “I didn”t mean to neglect you. Shall I start with compliments on your handsome face or would you prefer to hear about the way I long to worship your body? I”ve composed an entire poem about your ass.”

The Dragon King lifted a golden brow.

“Shall I recite it?”

Did his lips just twitch? No, surely not.

“I”d rather hear about the garden,” he said.

“The garden is getting weeded. It will take a while to remove all the plants that don”t belong, but it must be done before I move on to the next step.”

“Yes, of course.”

I let him take a few bites in peace, then asked, “So now can I recite my poem?”

“No, Sebastian.”

“You don”t like poetry?”

“I do not. I find it to be a waste of time, thought, and paper.”

“Ouch.” I grimaced. “Is it the rhyming? Because my poem doesn”t rhyme.”

“I don”t believe you have a poem.” The King set his teal stare on me. “And certainly not one about my ass. It”s nice enough, I suppose, but not worthy of poetry.”

“I beg to differ, Your Majesty. It is worthy of every type of adoration, including poetry. And I do have a poem dedicated to it.” I set down my fork, cleared my throat, and pulled a poem about his ass, well, out of my ass. “It”s called, The Royal Heinie.” I cleared my throat and pretended not to see his lips tighten. “The King of Latur outshines all other monarchy.” I swept out my hand dramatically. “With hair of spun moonlight and a face so sublime, it could make the Gods weep. But it is that which he sits upon that I love best. The softest part of the hard, Indifferent King—the royal ass.”

The Dragon knights at their posts made choked sounds as their shoulders shook, but the King just stared at me. He gave me a long blink. Then he looked away.

“Shall I go on?” I asked.

“No, thank you, Sebastian,” King Shaleros the Indifferent said. “That”s quite enough about my ass.”

“I did warn you.”

“You shouldn”t speak on things you know nothing about.”

“Ah, yes.” I nodded. “Quite right. They always say you should write what you know. Could I perhaps get better acquainted with your ass? Purely for artistic reasons, of course.”

There it was! A twitch. It was at the corner of his mouth. Just a second, but it happened. I saw it. No doubt about it.

“You may not,” the Dragon King said. “I am not interested in you or anyone else touching me. Anywhere.”

“Sad.” I clicked my tongue. “Very sad. Especially with your body. You have a body made for touching and being touched.”

“Every body is made for those things. Mine has done its duty. Now, it is beyond such needs.”

“If you say so, Your Majesty.” I returned to eating as if I hadn”t recited a poem about the King”s ass.

He stared at me warily. When I remained silent, he returned to his meal as well.