The Kings Personal Joker (boyxboy)

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen

The air seemed to be growing thinner around us as Ophelos was finished explaining what had happened, short curt questions dragging out more information as we remained kneeling, our heads close to the floor, mine resting on the ground. My forehead and neck damp with sweat despite feeling cold and remaining frozen.

Demosthenes was mostly quiet throughout the latter part of the story, sitting on his bed with an expression that could only be described as dark. Heavy black clouds arranging themselves in his eyes.

Ophelos continued explaining in a concise way, while I kneeled, mute and sweating. "I arranged to remove the splinters in quiet... We were done when Velius arrived, misunderstanding, but we are innocent of his charges."

I knew he was looking at me, watching me with those consuming eyes, despite fixing my gaze to the floor.

"Get up." He said slowly, in a deceptively calm voice. One glance up toward him caused my eyes to meet his own volcanic eyes, the flicker of the candle light dancing in them.

I swallowed, my legs wouldn't work.

Did he believe us? 

A compromising position, a long explanation, I think... I would believe it, but I would still be angry, angry that I had been lied to. But I was not him and it would be naive to think he would be angry for the same reasons.

It made me sick to think that I was about to be directed to my feat only to finally face the monster so many had warned him to be, that I had never seen and feared the way I did in the freezing air that squeezed me, my legs like led, glued to the ground.

He snapped his fingers and two servants rushed from the sides and helped me to my feet, I recognised the face of the boy that had helped me get treats from the festival stands. He made no discernible expression and did not look at me but for the barest second I thought I saw concern.

He gestured to the corner and they moved me, waiting for me to move my own legs but then pushing me to walk faster than I could as I looked around wildly at him, unable to speak.

I was pushed towards a corner and a veiled divider was drawn across the room, sectioning me off from the rest of the room.

He followed as well, and despite my fear of what exactly was happening my mind was strangely relieved to see him return after me, as though the fear he inspired was something he could also protect me from.

"Take off your shirt, let me see." He spoke, face blank as he did so.

Right, that was evidence, wounds did not lie.

I quietly undressed, really only a matter of removing the loose, thin shirt, none of the strings tied that would need anyone's help.

He helped lift it off my head as I raised my arm, carefully pulling it over my back, slowly, and setting it on a stool beside me.

So I sat, on a cushion, kneeling and facing away from him, my back displayed to him. I thought I felt his gaze tickle my back as well, then felt his fingers brush the side of my back, just the outline, where there were no marks, bruises or cuts.

I turned my head to look at him, dying to see him, to know what he was thinking.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, then withdrew suddenly and turned around to march back.

I got up fast, heart racing, grabbed the shirt and threw it back over my head, rushing to join Ophelos again, suddenly fearing that the King might beat him. I stumbled back into the centre of the room to kneel beside him.