“Nay, I will not. Even if there is familial blood, there would be matters of legitimacy and recognition to wade through,” I stated, the subtle pleasure of Le’ral’s words—and the memory of the man himself—warmed me inside.
“Pah, he’s the king. If he says that all of us paint our faces red and shit in the street while singing a shanty, then he has such right.” She gave the pull another robust yank. “These castle servants are slow as a becalmed ship. If I rang for the kitchen on the Cloud’s Shame, young Simon would have been here with our coffee and Pith’s honey bread by now.”
“Simon has only to travel from one end of the ship to the other, whereas the staff here have to rush from the kitchen and around a maze of steps, stairs, and hidden doorways.” I tried to pull my fingers through my hair but failed. Also, with my arm raised, the unpleasant odor of unwashed man covered with dried seed hit me in the face. I should wash up. Perhaps a bath was in order…
A timid knock on the door brought with it four servants, all in crisp clothes, toting food and hot drinks on large trays. They moved around the room silently as the guards in the hallpeered around the doorway at us as if we were strange beasts in a menagerie.
“May I have hot water for a bath, please?” I requested of a slim female with soft brown eyes. She nodded, bowed, and then they all emptied out of the room without a squeak.
“Frightful things ain’t they?” Hyla mentioned while removing the lids from the platters, her eyes rounding in delight. “Ah, soft eggs and side pork!”
We had a moment of upset with Prescott when we bade him come in and wash his hands—and his toes—to eat. He balked, whimpered, and threw himself about, but did soap his large hands. His feet remained unwashed, but unless he planned to eat with them, the gull droppings on his soles would just have to remain until he was made to sit in a tub. Not an easy task.
We sat about the room eating, watching the staff rush in to fill the tub and dart out, eyes round as wagon wheels after seeing two pirates and a troll enjoying their eggs and pig meat. Prescott even waved a yolky hand at the skittish women, but they declined to wave back.
Afterward, Hyla left to check on the crew and the ship. My guardian and I were now left to our own devices. I bathed. He did not, although I did convince him to rinse the gummy bread from betwixt his toes. After I smelled more refined, I dressed in casual clothes. Tan breeches, a white shirt, and a dark blue sash about my waist. Prescott wore the same clothes.
We spent a long time staring out at the ocean. I could see my ship still docked. Hopefully Hyla would get things moving. The sooner the Cloud’s Shame was seaworthy, the sooner we could set sail. A soft wind blew off the Silvura, like a caress from one’s mother on the cheek. When that grew tiresome, we decided to see the castle. I was still owed a tour and thought hard to go find Le’ral to guide us, but one night was one night. I would not go back on my word even if the thought had great appeal.
Our guards snapped to attention when I exited, followed by Prescott, who had to duck to clear the head jamb.
“We’d like to see some of the castle,” I explained.
“Which parts?” Guard One, an older man with a slim face, asked.
“Any parts that are entertaining,” I replied, keeping a side eye on Prescott, who was plucking flowers from a vase to my left.
“There may be some sparring going on at the guards’ quarters,” Guard Two, a female with short blond hair, offered up, and I leapt on it. Nothing could wash a man from your mind—not that a certain man was lingering unduly, he was just there still because my arse was tender—like watching other men tussling about in the mud. Some pubs charged for that kind of entertainment.
“Lead on,” I said, reaching back to tug Prescott from the flower vase, which now held nothing but water. He handed out posies to everyone we met on our way to the training grounds, most unsure or unwilling to accept the fragrant gift, but a few daringly did and then sped off.
The sun was just touching the dozen or so men on the training field when our entourage of a dozen armed soldiers arrived. We were told to sit under a tree where we could be seen at all times, so we did. Prescott sat on his heels with his flowers under his chin.
“Like boys,” he mumbled over and over while my sight touched on every sweaty bare chest on the field.
“Yes, yes, I do like boys,” I whispered as I sat on my heels, my eyes moving over the man in charge of the training drills. A standout of an elf, taller than most, with short hair and a physique honed from hour after hour of drilling. He was the only one familiar to me. The king’s personal guard, Pasil, who had kept a sharp eye on me in the Stillcloud gallery just the day before. Quite the impressive male. He shot us a quick glance,mud smeared on his left thigh, as he waved another man out of the small pack. I leaned up as the two of them met in a slap of wet male flesh, fingers trying to gain purchase on slick skin. Prescott held a yellow flower under my chin as I stared at the grappling match taking place. It was a short contest, for the captain of the guard had his opponent in a headlock in a flash.
“Your attention was not on me but on something else,” Pasil barked out beside his trainee’s ear as he tightened his arm around the elf’s slim neck. The lesser guard began to wheeze while struggling valiantly. “Once I have you in this hold, there is no escaping, and you shall be dead shortly, your windpipe crushed or your lungs emptied of air.”
“Yes…Captain…Greenleaves,” the poor lad croaked as his lips turned blue. Pasil released his hold. The young man fell to the mud, rasping for breath, face red from shame or exertion or perhaps both.
“I could free myself from that hold,” I said to Prescott, who nodded his bald head vigorously. Pasil, who possessed the ears of a harrier, it seemed, spun to glower at me, arms folded over his wide chest.
“You wish to comment on my training process, Captain Cadere?” Greenleaves asked as the trainees stood to the side sneering at me.
“No, I was just telling my friend I could get out of that hold you claim no one can escape,” I tossed out, the sun’s rays growing warm on my face. “Please feel free to tell your guards what you wish.”
He walked over to me, his fine shape blocking out the sun, to stare at me as if I had insulted him somehow. Which I hadn’t. Not really.
“I tell my guards what they need to know to handle lawbreakers, thieves, and other forms of wanted felons,” he replied with no small amount of dislike. I sighed. “If you feel youcan add something of worth to my regime, then please join me out there so you may pass along your wisdom,pirate.”
Fine. I wasn’t planning on joining in, truly. I’d just wanted to sit in the shade while enjoying the loveliness of the male elven form. But the way he softly snarled the word pirate down at me as if it were a foul taste on his tongue twisted my stones.
“As you wish.” I rose, removed my clean shirt, and pulled one boot off then the other. “My guardian will stand at my back in case your men decide to interfere once I defeat you.”
His gaze darted to Prescott, who was making a flower crown while humming his happy song.
“As you wish but know my men will not charge in unless they feel I am in danger.”