“Cold,” Hadrian agreed and then offered, “conceited, rude, awkward—what more to say? She and he are like oil and water; they do not mix.”
“I understand why Cassius found her so unappealing,” Tiago assured me. “There is no great mystery there.”
“But what does Varic think?”
“He shares not his thoughts with me on the subject of her, though he makes time to visit with her when he is at court, as he does few others.”
“Okay,” I said, focused on Tiago. “You said something earlier about Varic’s cousins. How many does he have?”
“He has many on the side of the queen, but they visit her court on the island she owns in Greece. They see the king perhaps once a century.”
“Why is that?”
“Her people are far more rustic, and many still reside in small, isolated parts of Ireland and Scotland and France.”
“So her court on her island is what?”
“Quiet,” Tiago said, clearly revolted. “They are a commune of artists, poets, writers, scholars, theologians… it is a bohemian nightmare.”
I smiled at him.
“They have bonfires on the beach,” he explained with a shudder. “There is her villa, her stable, her dock for her seaplane and her yacht, an enormous library, her vineyard, her gardens, her farm, her apiary, and her amphitheater. There is no electricity on the island, no internet, and she has an entire assortment of rare animals, some that are not found anywhere on earth but there.”
“It sounds amazing.”
“It is, I assure you, the ninth ring of hell.”
I laughed at him.
“She has far too many dogs.”
“Lots of work to do there, I bet,” I goaded him, bumping him with my shoulder.
“Moving on,” he growled at me. “On his paternal side, Varic has two cousins, Marcellus Maedoc, the oldest son of his sister, and Andreas Maedoc, second son of his brother.”
“Second son?”
“The first son of his brother fell with Cassius in Jerusalem. They fought together.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a good death, as was that of Cassius. Both died bravely and honorably.”
“Do the king’s siblings visit court often?”
“They do not, but I suspect that is because the king does not heed their counsel and instead relies on that of his elected council and, of course, Gideon.”
“Who’s Gideon?” I asked.
“He is the rajan of the king.”
“So when Varic becomes king, will you still be his rajan?”
“I will,” Tiago told me proudly.
My gaze met Hadrian’s. “And does the king have his own rekkr?”
“There is only one champion of the house of Maedoc and leader of the dreki,” Tiago chimed in, haughty and loud.
“Okay,” I soothed him.
“Only one may lead the dreki,” Hadrian apprised, scowling at me. “I defeated the champion of the king to become the rekkr of the house of Maedoc.”
“Why?”
“Why did I want the title?”
I nodded.
“First,” he told me, “because the rekkr, as part of his station, may choose any for his mate. And second, the rekkr alone leads the dreki and therefore stands at the side of the prince.”
“Did you wait until Cassius died to challenge for the position of rekkr?”
“No. I was a member of the dreki for centuries before I challenged the champion of the king,” he told me, wedging his knee against Tiago’s. “It was not until I found my mate that I needed to become rekkr.”
“Why need?”
His gaze held mine. “When Tiago was first brought to court with Varic from Paris, he came as a concubine, due to a mistake by—”
“It was not a mistake,” Tiago insisted. “Alrek did it on—”
“Tiago believes,” Hadrian said, talking over him, “that Alrek purposely had him placed in the harem of the king so that he could use him in private, as the king allows all his children access to his concubines.”
“This snapshot of court life is horrible, by the way,” I told them both.
“Had Varic not sent Hadrian to find me, I would have been violated by Alrek; of that I have no doubt.”
Hadrian was shaking his head.
“Is that not true?” I asked him.
“Tiago was gone from the sight of the prince for—” He looked at his mate for confirmation. “—fifteen, twenty minutes?”
“He did it on purpose!”
“Tiago was not, you understand, in actual fear of being violated, but was instead extremely annoyed over the assumption that he was a concubine.”
“A concubine,” Tiago said, eyes wide in horror. “Me. The impertinence was––”
“He was incensed and screeching by the time I arrived. Gideon was more than happy to be informed of the mistake.”
“I thought you claimed Hadrian,” I said to Tiago. “That’s how Anar made it sound.”
Hadrian chuckled. “No. Tiago is—”
“What? What am I?” he snapped at Hadrian.
The big man sighed deeply, leaned sideways and kissed Tiago’s cheek. “Mine.”
Tiago grunted, the sound very smug.
“And he announces this. Often.”
I couldn’t help smiling, even though I was working on separating myself from Hadrian. Things had changed between us; we could be civil but not friends. He’d proven to me where his loyalties lay many times before now, and even though it was understandable, I had thought we were closer. “Well, I think that’s nice.”
“You see?” Tiago goaded Hadrian.
He huffed out a breath then and leaned across Tiago, putting his hand gently on my knee. When I met his gaze instead of looking away, I noted how pained he appeared. We had been looking through each other for the past two days. Now, finally, we were not.
“Listen to me,” he said gruffly, holding my gaze. “I apologize for the words I gave you on the street. You not only frightened my prince but me as well. I do not have friends, other than my mate, and I was surprised by my concern. You enrich the life of my prince as well as all those in his house, myself included.”
It was a windfall of words from a man who normally communicated through action.
“I spoke rashly, out of anger, from my head and not my heart.”
The absolute shock on Tiago’s face, the way his mouth fell open and how big his eyes got, gave me a pretty good indication of how many times Hadrian had apologized during the course of their life together.
“Return me to the warm embrace of your friendship.”
I couldn’t have asked for better, and stood up quickly.
He scowled at me, unsure of what was happening.
Holding out my arms for him, I waited.
“Embrace was meant as a metaphor,” he apprised me, squinting like I was insane.
“C’mon,” I prodded him, “bring it in. We need to hug it out.”
He looked at Tiago, who was tearing up, and then turned his head to Varic, who was smiling crazily as he held a satellite phone to his ear.
“My prince,” he said, the pleading clear in his voice.