Page 2 of The Rejected King
Davin opened his eyes and stared across the empty carriage with a frown. He was thrilled that the Council had approved his plans, but an uneasiness nagged at him over the Council’s pointed exclusion of the working class. The other kings had said it was to give the new technology a trial run, but it smacked of elitism, something the original Council of Essentials had been created to destroy. But a lot had happened since that first Council two hundred years ago. Now, there was a clear divide between what was essential for the ruling class and what was essential for the working class.
He settled back against the seat cushions and sighed. It would be a few years before Davin could create enough transporters for all seven kingdoms, anyway. Perhaps at the next Council of Essentials, ten years from now, he could get vehicles approved for members of the working class too. For now, Davin had taken the first step toward better transportation. And it felt good.
If only the people in Enderlin saw the value in my ideas.
The Council of Essentials may have embraced his new ideas, but the people of Enderlin weren’t nearly as confident in him. Lately, Davin’s ambitions had fallen flat with his subjects. Rumblings that the king was too young, too innovative, and too foolish with the kingdom’s money rippled through the newswriters. If Davin wasn’t careful, he might be removed from his throne before he ever got to produce his first transporter.
Footsteps approached the carriage, and the door swung open. Davin swiveled his head to look at his guard. Millar’s large body filled the doorway, blocking the small light emanating from the inn behind him. Millar’s usually pale hair took on a yellowish hue from the light in the background.
“We did a sweep of the inn, Your Majesty. Everything’s clear,” Millar said, gesturing for Davin to exit the coach.
Davin followed his men into the lobby, anxious to finally rest after another long day of traveling. The Morreck Inn was his last stop before Enderlin Castle where he could finally sleep in his own bed again. Davin wished they could push through and travel straight home, but the horses needed to rest.
The innkeeper stood behind a low counter. Hooks and keys made up the wall behind him. The lights were dimmed, but Davin could see a set of chairs and a table pushed off to the side where guests could wait or gather.
The innkeeper bowed, his bald head glistening with sweat. “Your Majesty, I am so honored you would choose to stay at the Morreck Inn. We’ve been anticipating your arrival.” He rushed to the wall and grabbed a handful of room keys before dropping them on the counter. “Except for one room, you and your men have the entire inn to yourself.”
Millar flipped through each key then threw one to Davin. “I’m putting you in room thirty-four on the third floor. The rest of us will stay on the lower levels, guarding the stairs.”
Davin gave a tight smile, looking down at the key. “You’re the boss.”
The innkeeper bowed again as Davin turned and started climbing the stairs, anxious to sleep away the discomfort of travel. Millar silently followed behind, carrying Davin’s bag. Davin paused mid-step and spun around, slipping the strap off Millar’s shoulder. “I’ve got this. I know you’re tired too.”
Millar frowned and opened his mouth—probably to protest—but Davin just smiled tiredly and turned to climb the stairs again. “I’ll see you in the morning, Millar.”
Behind him, Millar assigned a guard to the bottom of the stairs. The poor guy would probably stand there all night for no reason. Davin wasn’t worried about his safety at the Morreck Inn. He wasn’t popular among his subjects, but he doubted anyone would try to harm him. There hadn’t been a single safety threat in his two years as king. The only thing harming him came from the newswriters and their portrayal of the facts.
At the top of the third floor, two black sconces dimly lit the hallway in front of him, letting off a soft glow of light. He held his key up to his eyes.
Room Thirty-four.
Davin looked at the numbered doors until he found the right one. He inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. The room was dark, only a small crack of moonlight coming through the curtains. He shut the door behind him and dropped his shoulder bag to the ground, kicking off his shoes. Shadows of a chair and a tall armoire outlined the edges of the room against the far wall. Directly in front of him was the shape of a bed, two nightstands on either side. He walked to the large bed, taking his shirt and pants off on the way. A pile of pillows was stacked haphazardly on the other side of the mattress, forming the shape of a body. That’s how tired Davin was—his mind turned pillows into the silhouette of a person. He shook the delusional thoughts away and fell into the soft sheets. His eyes closed, and he let out a long, slow breath. He rolled to his back, throwing both hands behind his head.
Sleep came fast, overtaking him. He relaxed and his breathing fell into a heavy rhythm.
In and out.
In and out.
There was a rustle beside him, and then a velvety hand glided over his skin, resting on his chest. A body cuddled up against him.
A woman’s body.
Was he dreaming?
He had to be dreaming.
The woman felt too nice for this to be real, and the innkeeper said they had the inn to themselves. It was just the sleeping silhouette he’d imagined earlier that was cuddling him.
Totally normal.
Davin dropped one arm over the dream girl’s shoulder, prompting her to snuggle in closer and drape a knee over his leg. Her hand rested on his chest, comforting his tired aches.
Ah, yes, a dream. A wonderful dream.
He sighed.
Or maybe the dream girl sighed.
