Royals of Ruemri Book I: Betrothal

Chapter 12 - Part 1

SOREN stirred from sleep as the distant sound of bells echoed through the morning air. Groggily, he sat up and absently rubbed the back of his neck, inadvertently brushing against the earring nestled in his lobe. The weight of the diamond earring served as a stark reminder of the immense responsibility it symbolized, sending a shiver down his spine.

He pushed off the blanket and strode toward the bathroom, washed his face, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He narrowed his eyes at himself. Shaking his head, he pinched his cheek hard enough that he teared up slightly, just to make sure the earring was not a dream. And most especially to make certain that the Raffe who had been almost kind to him last night they even shared a joke was not just a product of his stupid imagination.

He shook his head.

Goddess, this is ridiculous.

The earring still weighed down on his earlobe, a constant reminder. And those cocky smirks and casual laughs from Raffe lingered vividly in his mind. An inexplicable warmth settled deep in his belly, causing a flush to spread across his face.

Fuck, why did he not realize Raffe being so—oh, admit it, Soren thought rather irritably—so damned good-looking. Especially when those stormy eyes looked at him intensely, making him feel something silly deep inside his gut.

Soren let out a resigned sigh.

Glancing one last time at the earring and deciding that it would't magically disappear, he headed to change his clothes. He selected a plain white high-collared shirt, accompanied by deep blue pants that almost appeared black. Over this, he adorned a blue jacket with delicate silver swirls at the hem and collar, the garment cascading down to his mid-thigh. Slipping into his white knee-high boots, securing them with their black laces, Soren admired his reflection in the mirror. Vanda, the attendant previously tasked with his personal care in Ruemreon, possessed a knack for choosing and pairing Soren's favored attire. A smile crossed his face as memories surfaced of the bond he had formed with the woman during his initial month in Ruemreon, reminiscing on the stories they had shared.

He braided his hair, a little loose just the way he liked it, and set it in the side of his neck. Satisfied with his appearance, he left his bedroom and crossed to the main chamber door. He pulled it open— And froze when five men in relaxed stances rose up to stand at attention.

Soren recognized them instantly—Jac and Elio and three other Hemlocks. The dread that he was desperately hiding uncoiled in his stomach and made his heart lurch.

Do they despise me? Do they hold me responsible for the loss of their companions?

Soren dreaded uncovering the truth. He composed his expression, striving to appear composed. But it turned to confusion when the soldiers' eyes nigh-popped open out of their sockets and stared at him disbelievingly.

"Good morning, Your High—" the Hemlock soldier winced when Jac jabbed his ribs with his elbow.

"Your Majesty," Jac bowed and the others followed suit. "We're happy to see you up and about."

Now it was Soren's turn to gape at them and stare wide-eyed. He shook his head. "Just Highness, please," he said, a little disconcerted. He was not really getting used to being called with such fancy titles.

While the soldiers looked torn between obeying his request and following protocol, relief washed through Soren when a distraction came.

That distraction was Raffe in his black breeches, black shirt, and dark gold coat, striding with all the graces the future empire's ruler possessed, and looked critically at the gathered crowd in front of Soren.

Jadel, Rihan, and two El Casins hot on his heels.

Soren had to force himself to turn away to avoid staring.

Because why does he have to be this ridiculously good-looking?

"Good morning, nitwit," Raffe greeted when he came up with them.

Soren's relief subsided. "Good morning, boob," he threw back.

"That's cute," Jadel muttered beside Raffe, a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Is that going to be your endearment from now on?"

"You shut up," Raffe retorted and turned to look at Soren again. "What's wrong?"

I want to ask that, too, Soren thought.

Instead, he said, "Nothing."

Raffe looked unconvinced. He turned to the five soldiers and stared at them inquisitively.

"Your Majesty," they chorused.

Scowling—which seemed to be the constant state of Raffe's face most of the day—he said, "Just Highness. I've said this for a millionth time today, so if I hear you say that again before my coronation, I will take that as an insult to my father and dismiss you from your troops. And I'll punch you. Twice. Am I understood?"

The soldiers looked at each other.

"Yes, Highness."

After dipping his chin for acknowledgment, Raffe turned to Rihan.

"By the way, I want you to do something about these hovering Hemlocks. I kept wondering why there are five men a shift to guard Soren's room when the whole palace is surrounded by Ruemri's army already."

Rihan and Jadel shared a look and only signaled for the soldiers to stay where they were.

"I'm afraid not, dear cousin. We vehemently refuse to hand over guarding Highness' room to anyone else, except, of course, our El Casin brothers here. See, His Highness Soren is under our protection and, ashamed as I am to admit this, we failed the first time. But that won't ever happen again. I swear it on my sword and on my honor."

Raffe huffed and Soren lost his ability to speak, too shocked by what he had just heard. He had expected bitter hatred, blame, and harsh words from the soldiers—not this, absolutely not loyalty. Tears threatened behind his eyelids and he blinked rapidly to quench it.

"Fine then," Raffe conceded while turning to face Soren again. "Where are you headed?"

Soren slightly sniffed. "Breakfast. Where are you headed?"

There was a long pause before Raffe could answer, eyes fixed on Soren's somber face. The faie wondered if Raffe could read what he felt underneath the stubborn set of his mouth and the straight face he was trying so hard to maintain.

After a breath, Raffe said, "To you."

There was a beat of silence and Soren just stared at him.

But then Raffe cleared his throat. "For breakfast. The queen requests us to dine with her and her daughters. And obviously, we can't refuse her the second time."

Diminishing the disappointment that Soren hadn't even known was there, he muttered, "Alright." And decided to join Raffe's company.