The Kings Personal Joker (boyxboy)

Chapter Sixteen

[A/N] The above photo is a picture of Themis. She's a Titaness in charge of divine law and order.

When the day passed I saw very little of Ophelos, I knew he was there, though, following and waiting.

He would not approach me as often as he had done before and in doing so allowed me more liberties than before. I was allowed to dance with the servants, for example, for a short time in the early hours of the morning. Although this was nothing like what I would do when performing, it was a luxury I was mighty glad to have.

I wasn't even scolded for my clothes having been caked in the now dried mud, missing a few buttons from the cuff and the mid waist.

Natham was rather silent too, he asked shyly where I had been last night and when I changed the subject immediately and rather suspiciously, he simply went along with it.

My clothes were replaced quickly and I was partially dressed. He left a part of my clothing undone so that I may undress myself at the bathhouse and promised to quickly return when I was done. The issue of my disappearance was seemingly forgotten.

Ophelos finally approached me when I was heading out. He looked more stoic than usual. I raised a brow when he stood in front of me and he tensed for a second.

"I would advise that you wash any remaining mud from your hair as carefully as you can. You will be performing this evening, please do not forget."

My heart dropped to my stomach, the dance, I bit my lip in an effort to hid my surprise because I had indeed forgotten. How, when I had barely thought about it to begin with, was the thought of this performance giving me such dread.

"Right."

He did not move, however, he continued, "Please, the King should not be embarrassed by his joker, names aside. On this night you represent His Majesty's entertainment. Take this seriously and behave with decorum. "

I frowned, there was that uppity attitude I'd been missing out on.

"I will take your advice into consideration, Sir," I bowed and moved on.

The bathhouse should have been relaxing, it usually was, but today the silence and the emptiness of the place was a curse. I was banking on any distraction of offer. The silence allowed my thoughts to run rampant, I could not spend a second thinking about anything else but my fears.

The water was murky with dirt, it was barely warm and most of the servants had already used it. I brushed my hand through the water and a hair clung to my ring finger. I cringed.

A headache was blossoming and I rubbed my fingers against my temple. They came off white. I panicked for a second trying to remember if I had remembered to bring with my paints and was pleased to realize I had. I was beginning to feel naked without them, as strange as I looked with them on, I just didn't want anyone to realize that I was, in fact, a stranger on the inside.

I washed my face gently.

In the past, I have never cared about my features, I am handsome to an acceptable degree and confident enough to seduce a man or woman within my league or just above me. Now, I find myself worrying about the long-term effects of constantly depriving my skin of oxygen. My skin was already beginning to feel rougher, as always, acne free but unhappy.