Efren, the previous day
Efren couldn’t suppress a goofy grin as Marcelo rounded the corner opposite him, and they arrived at the conference room door at the same time.
“My darling.” Efren lifted Marcelo’s hand to his lips and planted a gentle kiss to the inside of one slim wrist as its owner smiled coyly. “I saw you running near the head of the pack this morning. You should be proud of your achievements in such a short time.”
“Thank you, dearest.” Marcelo lifted one brow. “I noticed you, too. Coming from town?”
Marcelo had left the question implicit in his inquiry unasked, and Efren left it unanswered. Instead, he merely said, “Indeed.”
Marcelo tilted his head to the side, but respectfully didn’t push for a more thorough reply.
In the conference room, Efren pulled out Marcelo’s chair before sitting between his husband and the empty space at the head of the table, awaiting the king’s arrival. Around the rest of the table, a contingent of advisers, assistants, military/security leaders, and family were assembled.
After joining them, the king nodded first to Denis, his security captain. “Any updates from the burial site on the road to Gagel?”
The king was referring to the spot where Marcelo had buried the two men he’d killed in self-defense when he’d been abducted shortly after their marriage. Efren winced and glanced at Marcelo as the horrible dread that had coursed through him when he, Denis, and Stevyn had been at that site fruitlessly searching, flashed through his mind.
Denis nodded. “Yes, sir. We’ve completed our canvas of homes in all directions, and followed all leads regarding known travelers who were spotted on the road in that timeframe. Nobody remembers anything unusual in the early days after Prince Marcelo’s abduction. It’s a dead end.”
“That’s not entirely surprising.” The king frowned. “They did a good job of not drawing attention to themselves when they had Prince Marcelo tied up in the wagon, no reason to expect they wouldn’t be equally circumspect hauling away the exhumed bodies.”
Denis’s face was an expressionless mask, probably still blaming himself for not sending security personnel back for the bodies immediately after whisking Marcelo to safety.
Nothing was clearer than hindsight.
They’d returned a few days later, once their caravan had crossed into Zioneven territory, and they’d felt safe enough to allow some members of the traveling security team to peel off and return to that site to collect the bodies and other evidence.
Even recognizing the impact of losing that opportunity to potentially identify the bodies, and wishing it were otherwise, Efren couldn’t fault the decision. It had been the correct move at the time. Protecting live people superseded identifying dead ones.
The king sighed and turned to his long-time assistant and adviser, Giles Bailey. “Does George have anything new to report?” Riders from the other realms arrived each morning from their multi-day treks and reported to Giles. George was Zioneven’s ambassador to Gagel.
“Somewhat new, sir,” Giles said. “George reports that King Deverick continues to appear sincerely upset by the news of what happened to Princess Marcela and Prince Marcelo, and he’s becoming increasingly disturbed that fingers are pointed at him. But he acknowledges that the circumstantial evidence is compelling, and will allow inquiries to be made among the nobles who had the most to gain by instigating a new war among the other kingdoms.”
The king nodded. “Can you make arrangements for that with the diplomatic corps?”
Giles returned the king’s nod. “Immediately after this meeting, sir.”
“Is Sheburat still holding Olstin? Any updates on that situation?”
Olstin was the male lover of Proye’s King Ulric, who was being held in Sheburat for espionage. That fact had originally sidetracked the search for Marcelo before they’d discovered that Gagel was actually framing Proye for the abduction.
“Yes and no, sir,” Giles said. “They’re still holding him and are unlikely to release him without something in return since the evidence against him is unimpeachable. Nothing has changed in that situation.”
“Have they uncovered anything new regarding the princess’s death and Prince Marcelo’s abduction?” the king asked.
“No, sir. I can only say that they are now questioning King Deverick’s guilt, and are leaning more toward believing that it truly might have been one of Gagel’s nobles acting without the king’s knowledge.”
“Yes. That is looking more and more likely. King Deverick has never been good at schooling his features.” King Alnod lifted one shoulder almost imperceptibly. “Either that, or he’s a master at misdirecting them, but history doesn’t support that.”
Beside Efren, Marcelo nodded absently. Although admitting that he wasn’t as politically savvy as the rest around the table who, with their more worldly experience, would be in a better position to know, Marcelo had said from the beginning that he found it difficult to believe that jovial King Deverick, whom he’d met several times and respected, could be involved.
“And Proye?” King Alnod asked. “Any news?”
“Indeed, sir. The runner arrived only within the last quarter hour, or I would have brought this news to you directly. Big news…sad news out of Proye.”
Big news, but apparently not particularly time-sensitive news or their ambassador would have sent the message first via carrier pigeon. Or perhaps he had, but this was one of those one out of approximately ten times that the pigeon didn’t make it back to its home base.
Everyone sat straighter. The king’s brow’s hiked. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry to report that Prince Bertram has died.”
“Oh my.” Queen Ellyn put her hand on her heart. “That’s terrible.”
“Indeed. Please convey our condolences.” After a moment, King Alnod asked, “Prince Bertram had been away from the capital for more than two moon cycles, correct, as he traveled the realm’s perimeter, evaluating security outposts?”
“Correct, sir,” Giles said. “And King Ulric, Crown Prince Artemis, Princess Udine, and the princes’ wives and their daughters have all been in residence during that time.”
The king nodded. “What happened?”
“According to Palmer’s report,” Giles said—Palmer being Zioneven’s ambassador to Proye, “Prince Bertram’s body arrived back in Capital City, sealed in a casket, late in the day before this daily report was written and sent, three days ago. He’d taken ill at their southern border and died from the high fever. His body was buried at the castle with a small ceremony that same evening.”
“Oh my,” Queen Ellyn repeated. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes, and Efren’s heart clenched, imagining the thoughts racing through her mind. She didn’t actually have much in the way of soft feelings toward the Proye royal family, despite their status as Zioneven’s ally during war, decades earlier, against Sheburat.
The Proye royals had been steadfast allies, but their philosophies veered greatly from Zioneven’s. Proye was strongly nationalistic, and King Ulric ruled with an authoritative iron fist.
No doubt she was projecting this terrible event to her own family, and envisioning how she would feel at the loss of one of her own.
Efren turned when Marcelo gently squeezed his hand. His eyes glistened much like Queen Ellyn’s, probably also imagining how he would feel if he were to lose a member of his new family—Efren’s family—who treated their young son-in-law as one of their own, and whom Marcelo had clearly come to love. As Efren loved Marcelo.
Efren blinked back tears of his own, imagining his life without Marcelo. And yet they’d never made that declaration to each other. Efren showed his love, always treating Marcelo with utmost caring, but he hadn’t yet said the words “I love you” to his husband.
And Efren’s spirits always lifted at the sparkle in Marcelo’s eyes after hearing Efren call him “my darling,” and his heart warmed every time Marcelo called him “dearest.”
It was past time to make the declaration. They obviously both meant the words.
The emotionally charged atmosphere tugged him, and Efren looked into Marcelo’s steady gaze and vowed to say the words to him tonight.