Page 17 of Royal Rebel

“Fine.”

If Karim was bleeding out, he’d probably say the same.

Desfan rolled his eyes. “Please sit down.”

Grudgingly, Karim did, though his arms remained crossed. “You’re risking your life for a ridiculous ceremony.”

“It’s notallridiculous. I do get a large crown out of it.”

“Cut the wit, Des. This is your life we’re talking about.”

“I know. But the people need a serjan today.”

“They also need one tomorrow.”

He sighed. “I have every intention of living out the day.”

“So thought many a dead man.”

“You’re always so pessimistic.”

“And you’re an aggravating optimist.” Karim’s eyes narrowed. “War is coming. No one can deny that now. Not after the attack we suffered from Ryden during the betrothal signing.”

“I firmly intend to fight for Mortise for as long as there is blood in my veins,” Desfan said. “But not all fights are on the battlefield. I need to win the trust of the people. I need them to believe that I’m more than the rebellious child I was, or the man who kept sailing away from his responsibilities. I need to show them I’m worthy of the crown. I need to do this.”

Karim’s mouth thinned, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he said, “You’re like my brother.”

Desfan felt his face soften. “I feel the same.”

“Then you have to understand, if something happened to you . . . If someone got past me . . . Fates, Des, that’s not something I could live with.”

Karim was not often vulnerable. Neither was Desfan, really. But the two of them had been through a great deal in their years together. Hurting Karim was not something Desfan ever wanted to do.

But he couldn’t change his mind. Not about this. “Everything is going to be fine,” he said.

Karim’s jaw worked briefly. “I haven’t decided if you’ll have five guards, or fifty. But you will accept whatever I decide.”

“Done.” But almost immediately, he lifted a finger. “Except you can’t be my guard today.”

The temperature in the room chilled. Karim’s expression iced over. “Excuse me?”

Desfan gestured to his leg. “You’re injured.”

Karim’s glower was impressive. “If you’re parading yourself in front of a room filled with fates-blasted people who might want to kill you, you’re doing it with me at your back.”

“You heard Yahri—most of the ceremony is done while standing.”

“Then I’ll wear comfortable boots,” he snapped.

Desfan muttered a curse. “You’re impossible.”

“I’mimpossible? You’re a stubborn, royal idiot—”

“What other kind of idiot could a royal be?”

“—but wherever you go, I go,” Karim continued, ignoring him completely. “There is no discussion. That’s it. The end.” He shoved up from his chair. “Now, do you want me to escort you to your room to rest, or do you want to check on Imara again?”

Desfan huffed as he stood. “You know, you’re bossy enough youcouldbe serjan someday.”

---