“Are you familiar with my story?” Kyllen stopped him.
It was safe to assume that Adriyel knew everything there was to know about him. He’d been watching Kyllen like a hawk ever since he’d arrived from Ellohi.
However, it didn’t hurt to reiterate it in this case. “I spent many months in the human world, which cost me about five centuries in this one. Meanwhile, Ellohi learned to live without me. I intended to reclaim the title of the High Lord only to be attacked by my own family. One of my men killed my nephew, defending my life. There is still a lot of turbulence in my court. Enough for me to deal with for the rest of my life.”
“Becoming a king would give you the power to crush any unrest in Ellohi,” Adriyel replied dryly.
“But it’ll also bring that many more problems and responsibilities. Not to mention, a human wife.” He made a face.
Adriyel squinted at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t want her in your nest.”
Kyllen’s cock twitched at the thought of Amira sprawled in his nest for him. But he chased that vision away, for now.
“Sure,” he agreed. “I’d take her as a plaything, but I’m not ready for a wife or the king’s throne. I’m not even a century old yet. I have far better things to do than sit in meetings or entertain dignitaries. I’m most certainly not interested in leading wars, with their endless marching and sleeping in tents. I spent months in the human world, locked in a wooden crate and wrecked by thirst-induced drought. I want to have some fun now, and I want to do that in comfort.”
Adriyel’s mouth twitched with disdain. “Why would you even care about making it to the final round, then?”
“Because I want to live, for one. Losers have a much higher chance of dying, as I’m sure you know.” Kyllen paused, letting the other lord absorb his words, then added, “And I could certainly use a favor from the new king, too.”
Adriyel narrowed his eyes at him in understanding. Finally, Kyllen was speaking his language.
“What kind of favor?”
“As I said. The situation in Ellohi is troubling for me. My brother’s wife was from Prusim. Her family is threatening revenge for the murder of her son, my nephew. Sooner or later I’ll have to deal with them, and I could use the support of the king.”
“Do you want the king to rule in your favor in this succession matter?” Lord Adriyel’s expression remained unchanged.
“Well, I want a bit more than that.”
Adriyel placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “More?”
“Yes. If I refuse the crown in your favor, I want you to help me fight the High Lord of Prusim when he attacks Ellohi.”
The Court of Stevali might join the Court of Prusim in their aggression against Ellohi. Lady Igaed, Bherlon’s widow, had returned to her father’s palace in Stevali. The lady might not be as violent in her ambitions as her late husband, but Kyllen didn’t entirely discount the possibility of trouble coming from that direction, either. With the death of Kyllen’s father, the peace treaty between Stevali and Ellohi was no longer supported by magic. It could be broken at any time.
Fighting both Prusim and Stevali would be difficult for Ellohi without the support of a strong ally.
“Is the attack imminent?” Adriyel inquired.
“Absolutely.” The threat was a high possibility.
“And you don’t think Ellohi could stop it without royal intervention?”
“Maybe we could.” Kyllen moved his stein in a circle, making the wine in it swirl. “But it’d be much easier with the royal army on our side, don’t you think?”
“I see.” The contempt in Adriyel’s voice deepened. “So, you don’t want to take on the responsibilities of the king, but you want the royal power to solve your problems.”
“Exactly. The best of both worlds.” Kyllen grinned.
Adriyel shook his head, picking at invisible lint on the sleeve of his midnight-blue tunic. “Are you sure you even want the title of the High Lord of Ellohi? It comes with certain responsibilities, too, I imagine.”
Kyllen stretched out lazily in his chair. “True, but you see, I’m not ready to give up the comfort and privileges the title of High Lord provides. Besides, it’s my birthright after all.”
“Of course.” The disdain in Adriyel’s eyes was now replaced by a calculating expression. “What exactly will you be asking from the future king?”
“To fight the High Lord of Prusim on my behalf.”
That was worded too broadly for any fae in their own mind to accept, but Kyllen trusted Adriyel to make the necessary corrections. And he did.
“You’ll get one battle,” Adriyel countered. “If you help me become the next king, I’ll send enough soldiers to help you fight off one attack by the High Lord of Prusim.”
Kyllen flexed his jaw with a contemplating expression, taking his time to consider the bargain. He waited silently until the tips of Adriyel’s senties twitched impatiently.
“You will get to choose which attack that may be,” Adriyel added. “You’ll tell me when, and I’ll send in the army immediately.”
Kyllen inclined his head as slowly as possible.
“Deal,” he finally said.
“I’ll need a formal promise,” Adriyel urged.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. It felt too dry, and he had no choice but to take another gulp of wine before continuing, “I promise to refuse the Crown of Lorsan even if I win the tournament, in exchange for you helping me defeat the other twenty-two contestants in the tournament the day after tomorrow.”
Magic buzzed under his skin.
It was a short, simple promise. It had no added clauses, no stipulations, and only one condition. It also held no reference to the favor Kyllen had asked for from the future king. That was the way an inexperienced fae would word it. And it didn’t escape Adriyel. Gleeful satisfaction briefly lit up his face.
“Deal,” he murmured. “It’s a pleasure to do business with you, my friend.”
He made a move to get up again.
“Wait.” Kyllen stopped him. “I need a promise from you, too.”
“Of course.” Adriyel settled back into his chair and started slowly, carefully choosing every word, “If you help me become the next King of Lorsan, I promise to send a portion of my army to help you fight one attack of the High Lord of Prusim on Ellohi.”