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Lio peered over the balcony railing, smiling to himself as he saw his best friend stifle a huge yawn with his hand. If he’d been close enough to Galo, Lio would have kicked him to wake him up as he often did during their lessons, but this was an official ceremony and Lio wasn’t allowed to ‘officially’ attend. He wasn’t ranked highly enough among the nobility to be qualified. Being the crown prince’s best friend didn’t count.
Regent Kray didn’t seem concerned about Galo’s lack of interest or participation in the ceremony. As always, he continued with the business of ruling a powerful, prosperous kingdom and ignored the prince entirely.
Once the ceremony had ended, Lio darted down to the ground floor to catch Galo in the hall. “Galo!” he called. Thankfully, Kray was nowhere in sight, no doubt having abandoned the prince at the earliest opportunity. Or Galo had simply left without permission. Spending time with his best friend surely appealed to him much more than listening to the adults talking over his head.
Galo turned and waved at Lio, a broad smile lighting up his face. “Lio!” he greeted.
Lio fell into step beside Galo, which was the place he felt most comfortable. In these cold stone halls, Galo's presence felt like a warm blanket. Even Lio's own magic felt like it was purring in Galo's presence. Once, Lio had said something of that effect to his teacher, and he'd been told that fire couldn't purr. Lio was sticking to his assertion though.
“That was so boring,” Galo complained to Lio, the only sympathetic ear he had in the castle. “I don’t know why Kray makes me go to all those stuffy ceremonies. It’s not like they need me there.”
“But you’re the prince,” Lio pointed out. “One day you’ll be the king.”
Galo stretched his arms above his head. “That won’t be for ages,” he said.
Galo wouldn’t be crowned as king until he was sixteen. He and Lio were currently ten years old, and sixteen seemed like an eternity away. Still, Galo’s apathy irritated Lio.
“You’ll be sixteen before you know it,” he said.
Galo snorted and whacked his arm lightly. “You sound like Kray,” he said. “You should’ve been born the prince, not me. I bet you’d be better at it.”
“I think you’d be better at it if you bothered to try,” Lio mumbled.
Galo was a little dense, but he was kind-hearted and genuine. Despite his young age, he truly cared about the citizens of his kingdom, unlike some of the rulers Lio had learned about from their tutors. Lio was sure that Galo would make a kind king, if not a wise one.
Though maybe he was wrong about that. Galo did have a surprising knack of coming out with the most apt and sensible suggestions at times; suggestions that no one else had thought of, though in hindsight, they seemed so obvious. Maybe Galo was capable of being a wise ruler as well as a kind one.
Dinner was uncomfortable for Lio, as always. He sat beside Galo at the large table. Across from them sat Regent Kray.
Lio didn’t like Kray. He didn’t like the hawkish look in Kray’s eyes or the way he tried to dismiss Lio every time the opportunity arose, as if Lio were just a child’s toy that Galo was carrying around. As if Lio were just a nuisance that Galo ought to have grown out of.
Luckily for Lio, Galo refused to allow Kray to dismiss Lio. He’d complain loudly until Kray gave in and let Lio remain.
Lio picked at his food, feeling uneasy. It tasted kind of strange. Maybe the chef was trying out a new flavour. Lio didn’t like it. Galo was shovelling his food into his mouth with his usual gusto however, so Lio supposed that maybe he was just feeling a bit off tonight. Galo certainly didn’t seem to notice anything different with his meal.
Unusually, Kray did not rebuke Galo for his un-princely manners. Maybe he’d finally realised that Galo would never listen anyway.
“Aren’t you hungry, Lio?” Galo asked him, upon noticing that more than half of Lio’s meal still remained on his plate.
Lio felt Kray’s eyes rest on him, and he looked down at his plate, avoiding that dark stare. “Not particularly,” he said.
“Off to bed with both of you, then,” Kray said stiffly. “Don’t be late for your sword practice tomorrow, Galo.”
Galo nodded before grabbing Lio’s bread roll and stuffing it into his mouth. “C’mon, Lio,” he said around the roll.
“Galo,” Kray admonished. “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Galo muttered, still chewing industriously.
Lio smirked, tickled by Galo’s disrespect. Kray deserved it. It served him right for treating Lio as if he were just Galo’s pet puppy.
Lio followed Galo out of the dining room and back to Galo’s suite of rooms. He had his own room in the same wing, upon Galo’s insistence, but he never slept there. Instead, he and Galo shared Galo’s bed, which was plenty big enough for both of them. Lio suspected that five boys their size could sleep on it comfortably.
“I wish you could come to sword practice as well,” Galo told Lio as he tugged off his clothes. Lio gathered up each garment from the floor where Galo left them, while stifling his irritation. Galo took him for granted sometimes.
“You know I’ve got magic practice instead,” Lio grumbled.
Galo flopped backwards onto the bed. “I know. I wish I had cool fire powers like yours,” he said.
Lio frowned as he undressed. “All I’ve managed to do is make candles explode,” he complained. “Magic practice is hard.”
“So is sword practice,” Galo agreed. He hid a yawn behind his hand.
Lio studied Galo thoughtfully, noting that his mood was subdued. That was unusual for Galo. Normally Galo would be full of energy even at this hour. He and Lio would roughhouse until a guard or servant stepped in to tell them to go to bed. Galo didn’t seem in the mood for that right now though. He was already burying himself beneath the sheets.
Lio curled up beneath the covers beside Galo. He felt secure and content with his friend so close by. Both he and Galo were orphans, having lost their parents around the same time. It was no real surprise that they’d gravitated towards each other like tree roots seeking water.
“Night, Lio.”
“Night, Galo.”
Galo’s snores soon filled the room. Lio lay awake, eyes closed as he tried to find his own dreams. Eventually he slipped into a fitful, restless doze. He couldn’t say why he felt restless, but there was just something in the air, something that didn’t feel right about the evening. Lio’s mind wasn’t able to stop sifting through it, searching for what was bothering him so much.
He woke at an unknown hour, his heart hammering. He knew immediately that something had roused him, but he couldn’t say with certainty what that had been. Galo continued to snore beside him, so the prince wasn’t the culprit.
A dark shape loomed over the bed, and Lio’s eyes fixed on it, alarm rising in his mind. He saw something glint silver in the moonlight from the window.
—A knife?
Lio panicked. He dove over Galo, a scream rising in his throat. His fire, heeding his fear, responded and surged out of him. Lio heard someone cry out, then the sound of a door banging open. Shouting, then something being thrown over him. More shouting, more movement. Lio was dragged kicking and yelling off Galo.
“Lio, calm down! You’ll set the entire room on fire!”
Lio stared into the ice-blue eyes of his teacher, Deus. He took several breaths to calm himself. He felt the heat of his magic recede into his body, leaving him feeling cold and dizzy.
“Galo?” he whispered. He tried to turn his head to look in Galo’s direction, but Deus pressed his hand to Lio’s cheek, preventing him from seeing. Then he scooped Lio up, blanket and all, and carried him from the room.
Lio screamed, but Deus only murmured words of comfort and reassurance to him. He refused to allow Lio to return to the prince’s suite no matter how much Lio cried or begged.
Later, Lio learned that an assassin had snuck into the room and attempted to kill Galo. Lio’s fire had driven him off and right into the arms of the guards. But Lio’s fire had also burned Galo, who had mercifully slept through the entire thing.
Obviously, that wasn’t natural, and it had taken some time for the crown investigator to figure out what had happened. Someone had drugged the prince’s food, ensuring that he’d sleep through the night. Lio’s food had likely been drugged as well, as had Regent Kray’s, but since Lio had eaten so little, the drug had no effect on him.
The true mastermind of the incident was impossible to discern, but Lio found himself watching Kray out of the corner of his eye. Something about the curl of Kray’s lips when he visited Galo in the aftermath of the incident bothered Lio. It was a smile, he supposed, but it didn’t seem like a kind or genuine one to Lio. The narrow-eyed look of distaste Kray gave to Lio upon seeing him sitting at Galo’s bedside also did not sit well with Lio.
Lio had the unsettling suspicion that the regent was the true mastermind behind the assassination attempt, but he couldn’t prove it. No adult would take a ten year old boy’s wild speculation seriously anyway. All he could do was stay by Galo’s side, and make sure that Kray never had another opportunity to hurt him.
Kray briefly met Lio’s eyes before he left the room. Lio fancied that there was something very cold in them. Or maybe that wasn’t the right word. Maybe hot would have described Kray’s stare better. Lio was well aware that Kray didn’t like him, but that look made Lio wonder if Kray actually hated him.
Good, because Lio was beginning to hate him too.
Lio’s eyes remained suspiciously on Kray’s back until the door closed behind him. Lio let his shoulders relax in relief as the knowledge that he and Galo were finally alone soothed his nerves.
Galo must have misread Lio’s expression because he said, “Don’t worry, Lio. I doubt Kray is angry with you. Everyone knows you didn’t mean to set anything on fire.”
Now Lio felt terrible again. He didn’t care about what Kray thought, but he did care about Galo, and he’d hurt Galo. Unintentionally, yes, but he’d still hurt Galo. Lio’s flames had burned Galo’s chest. The healers said it would heal, though Galo would have scars.
Galo was upbeat about the entire thing, but Lio suspected that was because he didn’t want to upset Lio. Truth was, he was hurting. Lio could see it in the crease of Galo’s brow and the tension in his movements.
“I’m really sorry, Galo,” Lio said for the hundredth time. He gripped Galo’s hand tightly.
Galo squeezed back. “I’m really glad you were here, Lio. I would never have woken up. Without you, I’d be dead.”
“I would never let that happen,” Lio said with vehemence. It didn’t matter who was ultimately responsible for the assassination attempt. If it were Kray, or some foreign nation, or just a disgruntled servant, Lio would burn anyone who tried to hurt Galo to ashes.
“I know you wouldn’t. That’s why you’re my best friend,” Galo said.
Lio slid onto the bed beside Galo and rested his head on the pillow next to Galo’s. He stared up at the ceiling of the room, Galo’s hand still gripping his. This was exactly where he needed to be, where he belonged. Lio knew that with a certainty that he scarcely felt about anything else in his life.
Lio stood to the side of the throne, almost hidden entirely by the decorative tapestries depicting heroic deeds of ancestors past that had been hung for the momentous occasion of the new king’s coronation.
Galo sat in the place where he belonged, on the throne where his father had once sat and held court. For once, he was alert and present—not because of Kray’s lectures, Lio suspected, but because of the fact that Lio had threatened to set him alight if he didn’t stay awake. Galo was much more afraid of Lio these days than he was of Kray, which was how Lio preferred matters to stay.
Kray was the first official to congratulate Galo, and that brought a smile to Lio’s face. How bitter must he be feeling to know that all his schemes and machinations had failed, and Galo had ascended to the throne after all.
Kray rose from his kneel and stepped aside to allow the other officials and nobles to approach and pay their respects to the young king. Kray briefly met Lio’s eyes, and Lio felt his arm itch at the hate in them. Lio made to rub it, only for his fingers to encounter nothing but air.
Lio returned Kray’s look with a scowl, fire flickering in his irises. The right sleeve of his colourful robe was folded and pinned in place to prevent it from flapping around and bothering him. Lio had lost his right arm two years ago to an assassin’s sword.
The incident had been difficult enough for Lio to handle, but it seemed to have been twice as traumatic for Galo, who had been present to see the entire thing. Galo hadn’t left Lio’s bedside for a solid week. He’d made so many broken apologies that Lio had finally lost his temper and almost set Galo’s hair alight.
Kray had never directly made a move against Galo, which had frustrated Lio’s efforts to push him out of the position of regent. Kray had worked in the shadows, hiring others to do his dirty work and never revealing his identity to those he paid. Lio had been forced to stay vigilant and alert, never truly feeling as if Galo were safe.
But now, he could breathe a little easier. Galo was king, and they could finally get rid of Kray. Not right away, Lio thought with regret. That would look bad. But certainly, they could arrange another appointment for Kray that would take him far from the castle within a few months.
There would be others—others who would try to take advantage of a young, inexperienced king, who would try to push Galo into making decisions that furthered their own agendas, but Lio was confident that he could handle them—just as he’d handled Kray.
Predictably, Galo remained at the celebratory feast until an ungodly hour. Lio walked a very drunk and exhausted Galo back to his room after finally convincing him that he needed sleep. Galo had some very important meetings to attend the next day, and Lio doubted that he’d be fit for them.
Galo collapsed onto his bed, snoring before his face had even hit the pillow. Lio removed his shoes, but decided not to bother with the rest of Galo’s clothes. It would be a bit too awkward for him to get them off with just one arm. Lio could have called a servant to help, but he disliked the presence of servants in the king’s room while Galo was there. It made him feel uneasy and guarded.
So Lio slipped out of his own robes and curled up next to Galo on the bed. Galo snored right in Lio’s ear.
Lio allowed himself the briefest sense of elation to pass through him. He’d done it. He’d protected Galo until his coronation. The danger wasn’t yet gone, but Lio felt like he’d truly accomplished something worthwhile.
“Lio?”
Lio gave a sharp start as Galo’s voice rumbled in his ear.
“What?” Lio asked, sure that some drunken monologue about the new weapons being imported from a foreign kingdom was sure to follow. Galo had been excited to realise that weapons made by non-magical means could be even more effective than magic, and he hadn’t shut up about it all night.
“I think I love you,” Galo mumbled.
Lio couldn’t possibly have heard that right. Galo had probably just said that he liked Lio; his words were just slurred enough for that to be the case.
“I like you too,” Lio replied.
“No, Lio. You’re not listening. I said I love you,” Galo insisted.
Lio stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to face Galo.
He supposed he’d always known that he loved Galo, but he’d never dared to think that Galo felt the same way.
“I love you too, Galo,” Lio whispered into the dark.
Galo’s snores resumed, but Lio stayed awake for a long time, staring up at the ceiling and struggling to understand the implications of Galo’s confession. He was drunk so there was a chance he might not remember it in the morning, but it had been an honest confession. Galo’s feelings wouldn’t disappear just because he’d forgotten he’d confessed them to Lio.
Lio truly hoped that Galo wouldn’t forget. Their feelings were an inconvenience, as Galo was the king and Lio was...nobody, really, just Galo’s childhood friend, the orphan son of a low-ranked noble house. Barely more than a servant, really.
But Galo loved him, and that made Lio feel as if everything he’d sacrificed had all been more than worth it.