The Kings Personal Joker (boyxboy)

Chapter Seventy Eight

[Demosthenes' POV]

When I returned to my room I saw that the bed was empty, I knew it before I looked, I could tell from the massive emptiness of the room. There was something useless and abnormal about a large room. Every night I spent in the palace was in a room I felt was too large.

I had it filled my bed chambers with baubles of every colour and kind and found that there was a fine line between furnished and cluttered. And in its finality I found that I could not remove any of these extravagant items that labelled me a spendthrift of the worst sort because every time something went missing from the room, the room grew larger.

I sought out Cigol, and it took me a moment to find him.

He was a handsome, tall man, with muscle that was lean and dark brown hair, short cut, and thick eyebrows. A quiet unassuming air about him. The mark of an assassin, a spy, and walking abacus. Dark and silent enough that shadows blended easily with him.

"So he left." I said to him.

He bowed low and stepped forwards, somehow not quite in the shadows and yet completely cloaked.

"Yes, your majesty."

I narrowed my eyes. "For such a strangely submissive little morsel he goes and does as he pleases with surprisingly little foresight." My voice was low as I spoke, and there was an undertone of danger in it, however it was not completely true to the considerations I was making in my head.

I found it difficult not to pause a moment in admiration that Elpis was somehow so intensely free. It was less as though he was strong and smart enough to evade my clutches, and more as if the fact that he completely didn't see or acknowledge the chains I wrapped around him gave him an inordinate amount of power. To do as he pleased.

Then again perhaps he wanted me to punish him, he responded so nicely to it after all.

I sat on the chair in front of my desk at the other end of the room, ignoring the tea being warmed on a tealight to the left of me, a shallow smile on my face.

"Anything of note?" I asked Cigol.

He approached me, and bowed once more from he corner of my vision. 

"He dressed and left, Your Majesty, this is all."

I hummed, remembering the clothes that the tailor delivered just this morning. "What of the clothes."

I turned a moment, eyes narrowing. "He did wear them, yes?" I asked him, my voice turning deadly. It was unfortunately far too easy to imagine him leaving the room in a ripped undershirt and braies. It would be uncomfortable for him the next time we meet if so. I have made it clear he is for my eyes only.

 Cigol replied immediately. "Yes, Your Majesty." I relaxed my posture. Turning back to my writing materials. I would have appreciated seeing it on him. From a bare glance they seemed to have been designed exactly as I wished.

"He was able to dress on his own then?" I asked him, glancing at him.

He paused, then nodded. "Yes." He glanced at the mirror to the side of us. "He liked them." He said quietly.

There was a warmth in my chest at that. Though it was a strange thing for Cigol to note at all, he was normally far too factual, to an extent where the devilish cunning in the man was thwarted by his limited ability to recognise and take into account emotions as controlling factors.

"Is it wise... to allow him such closeness?" He asked me.

I smiled. "Quite possibly not."

"It is dangerous, I am under the impression he is..." He trailed off.