Ruler of Angels | The Royal Legacies Series

| 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖆𝖑 |

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖆𝖑 |𝖆𝖉𝖏| 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞, 𝖖𝖚𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖘, 𝖔𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖗 𝖙𝖔 𝖔𝖓𝖊'𝖘 𝖔𝖜𝖓

It was easy to maneuver around his feet, not like Vaeril let him do anything that could possibly hurt them even worse. It wasn't until a few days later, with assistance from the maester, did the king finally let the human back into his job.

Thronal was the first to greet him that afternoon, "Felimid!"

The mercenary gave him a smile and a small bow as he entered the library, "Hello, Thronal."

"How are you feeling?"

Felimid scoffs, "I felt great two days ago but someone," he looked over to Vaeril as he talked with his brother, "Someone didn't want me back here."

Almost as if he heard their conversation, Vaeril comes over, "I assume you're okay?"

The human rolls his eyes, "You're talking as if you didn't come and see me every day making sure I didn't move from my room..."

Vaeril's face flushes slightly, "I had to make sure."

The mercenary laughs and takes a seat on the table, "I know. It's rather comical, however. Now, since I am feeling much better, can I actually do something today?"

Morian comes up, "Felimid. I'm afraid we haven't had much time to talk."

The youngest brother offers his hand with a smile. Taking it with a small curve of his lips, "You're Morian, yes?"

"That I am. The more handsome," he looks to Vaeril, "And entertaining heir of the throne."

Felimid snorts, "Oh really? You know," he leans towards the prince, "I think you're right."

"Do I want to know what you two are talking about?" Vaeril's sudden voice surprises them. They only stare at him for a moment before they start to laugh.

Felimid walks over to Vaeril and pats his shoulder, "I'll tell you when you're older."

Morian snorts and almost falls onto the floor, "Now what's so funny?"

"Nothing, Vaeril. Nothing at all." Felimid gives him a smile. Vaeril wants to question their motives, but the genuine smile on the mercenary's face makes him reconsider.

"So, Felimid, do you feel adventurous?"

The mercenary looks to the king in question. Even the others seem intrigued at his words, "Depends on what you have in store for me."

"The markets. Have you seen them?"

"I thought the whole point of me being here was to protect you from the people who want to kill you..."

The mercenary gives him an exasperated face but ends up smirking, "Not the outer markets, the inner markets."

"The royal markets?" Alova asks from his seat in the far corner of the room, clearly interested.

"Yes," he turns to Felimid, "You haven't seen them, correct?"

"I haven't, why?"

"I wish to go. You'll accompany me?"

Felimid shrugs, "Why not? There's just a whole bunch of people who want you dead but you want to look your best. I get it."

Vaeril gives him a stern look but the mercenary can see the corners of his lips turn up, "I see. I completely understand. You don't wish to help me. I suppose I don't mind being shot at, stabbed, or taken hostage..."