Page 115 of Royal Rebel

“They’re well. Fivol still talks of the night the serjah and his bodyguard saved his life.” Her eyes dropped to his ring, which he hadn’t realized he’d resumed spinning. “You wore that ring when we first met,” she recalled. “It must mean a great deal to you.”

Desfan looked down, the edge of his thumb brushing over the smooth obsidian ring. His first instinct was to give a simple answer, but he found himself saying, “A long time ago, my sister Tahlyah found three identical rings in the treasury. We each took one. We thought we’d all grow into them.”

Razan’s lips pursed, compassion softening her expression. “I’m sorry your sisters didn’t get that chance. But they would be proud of the man you’ve become, Desfan.”

His throat cinched, suddenly feeling too hot. Clearing his throat, he said, “I remember worrying at the time that our mother would be upset about us taking them, but she never cared.”

“It probably made her happy to see the three of you so united.”

“It’s not like it made a dent in the treasury, either.” He snorted. “Nothing like the mess I’ve made of it now.”

Razan winced. “About that . . . I’ve overheard some of the other council members talk. A couple of them are worried we won’t have the resources to keep debts paid and the country functioning. They were critical of your decision to send supplies to help the Devendran refugees in Salvation.”

He expelled a slow breath. “Ser Sifa?”

“And Anoush.”

He wasn’t surprised. Those two were fast becoming his loudest critics—except when Yahri thought he was being an idiot, of course.

“Serai Essa worries more about debts being called in, but Sifa has some valid concerns about keeping the military funded, if it comes to a fight with Ryden.”

It was a valid concern, unfortunately. Once Desfan was given a list of what was missing, he might have a chance of tracking the more unique pieces. He wasn’t very optimistic, though.

Razan met his gaze. “War is coming, isn’t it?”

Desfan didn’t answer at once. Yahri had cautioned him to not speak of war until after his reign as serjan was secure. For his part, he didn’t want to entertain open war until Mia was safely home, and Serene had a chance to discuss the situation with King Zaire Buhari. Until now, Desfan and Yahri had sidestepped all talk of attacking Ryden. But Sifa—and others on the council, to be fair—had been calling for war since Liam and Grayson’s betrayal.

“War is coming,” he admitted. “It’s inevitable. But I’m hoping for a little more time.”

He prayed the fates were kind enough to give him that.

Karim joined them a while later.

Desfan and Razan stood to greet him, and it was obvious from his red-rimmed eyes that tears had been shed.

Karim’s voice was low and a little rough as he said, “It was good. She knew me, after a while. We talked.”

Razan reached out and took his hand. “I’m glad,” she said.

Karim’s fingers threaded through hers, then he looked to Desfan. “I may arrange a guard to relieve me a couple of mornings each week. Her physician said she usually does better in the mornings.”

“Of course,” Desfan said instantly. “Take whatever time you’d like.”

“Serjan?”

He twisted to face a man with wide eyes who stood just down the stone path. He wore loose clothing and his long hair brushed his shoulders. Silver touched his temples, and he had deep lines around his eyes. Desfan guessed he was probably in his fifties, though something about his presence seemed older. Heavier. It was also clear the man wasn’t a physician or attendant. His attire was similar to what other residents of the asylum wore.

The man snapped to sudden attention. His shoulders went back, his hands locked behind him, and he bowed deeply. “Serjan Saernon,” he said, firmly now, without a hint of question. “Thank you for granting me this audience.”

Something in Desfan’s chest tightened. The man thought he was his father.

He glanced briefly around them, but there was no sign of an attendant, or an escort for the man. A quick look at Karim and Razan showed they were just as unsure as he felt.

The man was still bowing.

Desfan cleared his throat. “Thank you. You may—”

The man’s head jerked up. “I’ve been waiting to give my report,” he interrupted.

---