I was sweating to death, ribs aching from the weight of the leather garments I wore. This old man out winded a daemon doing farm chores, always the prodding of the past. I would have to endure. If Falco tried anything, I might have a chance to scathe by without a scratch if I blocked properly in this gear. Lord Knight Paul had discussed armor in great detail with me. The purpose of the gear and styling, how I should change my offense and defense accordingly based on what I wore versus what they wore. How insightful he was on observing and misleading the opponent.

You never know when you can’t replace your gear. You should always know the weak points in your opponent’s own. He had pointed out gaps in the various garments he hid in the cellar. Note they are all in a different spot. You keep them out of your holes and be sure to fill theirs with your sword.

I found myself staring at John again. Sweat dripped down his face and he leaned on the podium. He had abandoned his pacing, winding down. His hands gripping the podium white-knuckled, his breathing labored. I marveled over the physical drain performing brought on. A powerful sermon designed to impress a king. My father had a stern expression on his face, but he wasn’t watching John. Each time I peeked his way, the king had been glaring at me. I couldn’t stop myself from shuddering, looking away, afraid if our eyes connected, he would shout, caught you, now come home Dante. Forget this ruse!

“Glensdale and King Traibon, thank you for such a warm reception.” John called my father’s stare to him. “And let’s not look over Viceroy Falco’s generous donation to aid in prepping the building for today’s service.”

My father lifted an eyebrow and shot Falco a suspicious look. A slurry of whispers erupted throughout the congregation at the news as they clapped in confusion. Standing, Viceroy Falco sent the gossiping to a dead silence before taking a bow. He was playing the charitable part and not one soul in the church believed it. He never intended to have the King’s favor and protection on this place, yet here it was uninvited by the way his body language played out.

“I’m glad to have such a wonderful priest here in Glensdale.” Falco’s words were hollow. “Please do take good care of Father John while he makes this place his new home.”

Confused, the claps started slow and botched. King Traibon leaned to his servant, whispering. They nodded and glanced at me. Again, I was thankful for the mask hiding my panicked face. And if my father saw the bruise on my cheek, he’d lose his temper knowing Falco put it there. The attendant nodded and rose to their feet, walking in my direction. Meeting their gaze, they motioned for me to come closer. Swallowing back my fear, I crouched at the edge of the pulpit.

Just my luck, it’s my cousin Ruth dressed as an attendant. I can’t say a word, or she’ll know. I used to read bedtime stories to her, and she used to throw a fit if anyone else tried. If anyone could peg me by my voice, it’d be her.

“King Traibon would like a word with Father John before he leaves. We will wait for the church to empty and speak privately in his office.” I nodded, agreeing to it on John’s behalf. “Thank you.”

“Thank you all! Know that my doors are always open, and I hope to see you return for next week’s service.” I leaned in whispering in John’s ear and he smirked at the request. “Please, if you don’t mind, King Traibon has requested a private audience. Once he is done, feel free to stop by or even tomorrow.”

The room filled with the echoes and noises of the mass of attendees leaving. Many taking one last look at the décor or fussing over how impressive the priest must be meeting with the King so early in his career. John had made waves and Glensdale was filled with the excitement he brought in after openly challenging the Viceroy. Falco would have his hands tied, unable to make a rash move like he’d done all week.

“King Traibon, I’m more than happy to stay…” My Father lifted a hand, making the kneeling Viceroy stop.

“You’re not needed.” My father turned to his guards. “See to it that the Viceroy and everyone leaves the building. I wish to speak with Father John in private, with only my attendant.”

I watched as Falco was nearly shoved down the aisle and out the door. Turning back, the attendant was aiding my father to his feet. It took all I had not to rush over to help. Blinking, I realize Ruth wore a traditional butler’s attire made for men with pants, waistcoat, and a long-sleeved shirt. Her hair was braided in such a way it wrapped around her head, hiding her rank at first glance. Fifteen knots made her one of the Royal Guardians, a branch family, but her features would make her a cousin on my mother’s side unmistakable. At one point we could pass as siblings, dark brown hair, fleshy lipped and tall.

Wait, could it be she’s taken her father’s place already as Captain?

Flashes of the youthful daemon who tugged me by my ears rushed forward. Ruth had tagged along with either my Aunt or Uncle, or worse, unsupervised with her eldest brother. Later in her early adolescence, she had been quite demanding, though I was one of the few who would brave defying her orders. A smirk crept across my face at the memories it brought seeing her again.

“Father John, may we use your office?” King Traibon motioned for him to lead the way.

“Absolutely your majesty.” John nudged my shoulder, lipping, wake up. “I can have my bodyguard watch the door for us.”

“I want both he and Ruth to be in there.” King Traibon leaned heavy on his cane. “I think it’s important that they hear this as well.”

John opened the door and I stood beside him gawking at Ruth.

When did she get hips and grow a foot higher? I see my cousin even grew up during the time I was away. How foolish of me. Out of everyone, I’m glad she’s the one aiding my father. She always bested me and even Falco in parrying with a sword. Her intuition and agility was hard to match or defend against.

Closing the door behind me, I stood there unsure what to do with myself in the tiny room. My father took a seat on a chair and John sat beside him, a stern look on his face. Ruth was staring at me and leaned down to whisper something. It brought a smile on King Traibon’s face and he nodded. Clearing his throat, he took in a deep breath, something he did when he had heavy news to report on.

“First off, the allegations you wrote regarding the backdoor dealings between Bishop Marquis and Viceroy Falco wasn’t something new. I wasn’t completely unaware of their exchanges.” King Traibon leaned back, settling into conversation as if he were talking with family or even me. Why the informality with John? “In fact, I paid off the Bishop in hopes to tone down the deaths of the priest, but I hadn’t realized his backhanded deals with Falco were becoming more malicious.”

“I can show you the journal entries and slips.” John motioned to some books on the desk. “But, before we continue, may I ask who this young lady next to you is?”

“Ah, forgive me.” My father looked to her and Ruth straightened her stance.

“I am Captain of the Royal Guard, Ruth Burns.” She gave an elegant nod, giving John a sincere smile. “Nice to meet you, John. I was a little startled when the guards gave me a letter with my name on it. Could I ask how you knew to reach out to me and not the King directly?”

“I once got advice from a knight in Captiva City. He said it’s best to reach out to those the king trusts in hard times. Those working against a king can be narrow-sighted in actions and interceptions. Roundabout ways of achieving the same goal can prove to be… less dangerous.” John scratched his jaw. “In short, I was afraid the Viceroy would make sure my letters would never reach the King, but you on the other hand, he could care less about.”

She laughed, covering her mouth, “It threw me, receiving a letter from a secret suitor. They indeed rushed that letter to me. Rumors are still going around about it.”

Under the mask, my face went red. Part of me was jealous and the other half scared.

John laughed, “I apologize if that came off brass. My grandfather was a clever man and he used to tell me gossip will reach further than fact. I took that to heart when solving the matter on how to reach you directly, my King.”

“I respect a clever man.” King Traibon nodded, his eyes sparkling as he enjoyed the events unfolding. “Lord Knight Paul and I became unlikely friends, so I couldn’t help but see who his grandson had become. I see you’re just as sly as he was, perhaps more so.”

I shifted, leaning against the door and rubbing my side, ribs throbbing again. He faked the letter to Ruth knowing it would be carried to my father when she realized what was there. Still, I wonder what he said to bring them both here? Ugh, and to think the old man and my father were friends. Neither of those assholes hinted as much. Fate and destiny are strange things.

“Is this,” Captain Ruth paused, bringing my attention back to her. “Is this the man who you said has sworn to protect you?”

“He’s well built for a daemon.” My father looked me over from head to toe and I wondered, is that all you have to say to a daemon like me? Well built? What would you think knowing it was me under this façade, I wonder? “Silent, but he’s been injured?”

John’s face flushed, a mixture of anger and guilt written on his face. “You can thank Viceroy Falco for that. If it had been me to take that same beating, I wouldn’t be sitting in this chair, but six feet under.”

“I see.” Tilting her head, Captain Ruth’s eyes fell to my hand resting on the pummel. “Isn’t that a Lord Knight’s sword?”

“It was a gift from my grandfather.” John stared at me, gauging my eyes. “He trained under him for a long time while I was away becoming a priest. Granted, I’m not sure if he wants to take on the title he deserves just yet.”

Title? I narrowed my eyes at John. As a Lord Knight? Or are you implying Prince?

“I see.” My father’s stare made my blood run cold. It was the same look he had given me when I had made a bullheaded decision he was against. “He’s gotten this far. Does he not wish to speak for himself?”

The eyes in the room weighed heavily on me. A mask laid between my father and my true identity, but somehow it felt paper thin. I gripped the pommel for morale support, my teeth holding my tongue. My father would recognize my voice. His maroon glare hadn’t changed, burning into me and I agonized over how weak his body looked. The passing time was excruciating, but I refused to say a single word. John, don’t you understand that revealing myself would rip us apart? I can’t be your sword and shield if I let the King know his son is alive and well. Not even Ruth would let me walk out of this room without reclaiming my title and leaving you to Falco’s fangs. I shook my head and shifted my stance. No, I won’t say a word.

“He’ll speak when he’s ready.” John ripped their attention back. “After all the conspiracies and rumors, it may be best this way to protect him from further onslaught.”

My shoulders slumped, the tension cutting lose. An audible sigh hit my mask and Captain Ruth raised her eyebrow at me.

“If you say so.” She twisted her lips in doubt, “But that is the posture of a man who doesn’t want people to know who he is, and knows his voice is a dead giveaway.”

The tension returned, why does she have to be so damn insightful.

Laughing, the King tugged on her sleeve. “Leave him alone. He’ll tell me when the time comes. He’s made a decision, now respect it.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake… he knows it’s me! Damn him and his spies, who could have told him? Chapman? The carpenter? Would Madame Plasket try to sell this information in the underbelly? Or could it be something John wrote?

“Back to the matter at hand.” Clearing his throat, John changed topics as if he could see the distraught expression under my mask. “If I end up dead, I assure you it will be due to the Viceroy or his hired help. Is there any means for me to counter him without stepping on too many toes? I simply want to keep myself and my… friend here, alive?”

“I see.” Again, Captain Ruth put her fingers to her mouth. “Seeing the King here in the church has helped you gain some time. I’ll increase the guard’s patrols here, make it clear that his majesty would like to come visit from time to time as a cover.”

My father stole a glance at me as if pondering to speak. “I’ve been sick. The cause of it unknown, but I’m not dead, yet. Falco might see it as a desperate move to make peace with my life and let him think it.”

“Everyone knows I up the security anywhere the King frequents, so no one will question this.” Ruth burst into laughter, startling us all for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just can’t. I can’t get over the whole thing. I have to say it. No one is going to question anything you do John after seeing how you hung his majesty’s bedroom fabric on your walls, ha!”

Shit. I covered my face, thankful to have the mask. I didn’t think this through at all… I just know it was his favorite.

John looked at me, “Really?”

I shrugged at last, throwing my hands into the air in reply.

“He has great taste.” King Traibon was pulling himself to his feet, giggling. “We will meet again, I hope. Know that if I fall too ill, you are to come to me, John and…” My father creased his forehead, his face red with annoyance.

The room of glares aimed in my direction once more, they want me to talk and I won’t do it.

“Danseur.” John wasn’t going to give up my pet name so easily.

He knows I hate being called that.

I opened the door, eager for the encounter to end. Captain Ruth led the way and as the King started to pass me, he stopped. Turning to see why, he gripped my shoulder sending my heart racing. I froze, waiting for him to snatch the mask from my face, to shake me and demand I speak, to embrace me as if he couldn’t bear to play along anymore.

Leaning in, he whispered, “If I am bed-ridden, you are to come with John, and you are not allowed to refuse me this last request, Dante.”

I opened my mouth, my voice failing me. Dammit say something to him! Clenching my teeth, I didn’t know where I would start. I glared into those red eyes, the reflection of my mask mocking my silence. At last, I managed to croak, “I promise, if it comes to that, I’ll come home.”

Letting go, he chatted with John all the way to the door, leaving me there by the office. The muscles in my shoulder stung where my father’s fingers had dug in. It was something he had always done to me, always with those same words, you are not allowed to refuse me, I am your father, Dante. My chest ached, both happy and pained by the past and present waging war in my heart.

Why aren’t you dragging me back now? What else are you not telling me, father? And John… what in the world did you write in that letter to bring this out in him?