Ion hurried down the halls with his head down, still reeling from Sounis's unexpected offer. It must have been out of pity, he thought. Sounis seemed incredibly compassionate, and there could be no other reason he'd want Ion to attend him after seeing how poorly he'd served his own king. Still, it was difficult not to feel a thrill of hope at the monarch's parting words.
You would rather serve Eugenides. Only tell him so, and I will have to find someone else to keep an eye on all my new finery.
Of course, Sounis's optimism seemed founded on the assumption that Attolis would readily forgive the stupid mistake of a contrite vassal. Ion couldn't help but fear his months of deliberate disrespect precluded him from ever claiming such a position. He still didn't understand why the king hadn't banished him, or worse, once he no longer needed to pretend he was a fool incapable of controlling his own attendants. But, Sounis had known his king for years, Ion reminded himself. Hopefully, his insight would prove true.
Ion made his way directly to Attolis's chambers, determined to confess his negligence in allowing the Mede ambassador to approach Sounis so unexpectedly. But when he arrived, the king was already spilling out the door, followed by Hilarion, Philologos, and a short train of guards, on his way to some appointment of which Ion was unaware, having been meant to remain in Sounis's service that day. The king allowed a slight look of surprise to cross his face at finding Ion in his path.
"Did Sounis send you?"
"No, Your Majesty."
Attolis raised a single eyebrow, and Ion scrambled to assure him he wasn't neglecting his duty – rather ironically, as he'd come to confess he'd done just that.
"He knows I'm here."
"You needed something then?"
The king's voice, like his face, conveyed a tone of supreme disinterest. Hilarion and Philo shifted behind him. The guards were too well-trained to do the same, but Ion could sense their impatience, and he was long past the days of deliberately making the king late. Besides, he admitted as footsteps clacked and robes shuffled behind him, he really didn't want to have this conversation in the hall, for everyone who might be passing by to see his shame and his king's reaction. The damage was already done, right? Surely, it couldn't hurt to delay his report an hour or two.
"It can wait, Your Majesty. I apologize, I didn't realize you were currently engaged."
"Later, then. If you're not going back to Sounis, send Verix in your place."
Ion stood still, blinking, as the king and his train swept off down the hallway. Then, he shook himself, entered the royal apartments, and asked Verix to attend their guest.
The rest of the day was excruciating. The king returned to his rooms only once, briefly, to exchange his overcoat for a lighter one, better suited to the increasing heat of the day, before rushing out again. He didn't return again until dark had settled, and it was time to undress him for bed. Ion bit his tongue and worked quickly, trying to plan how he might get the king alone the next day.
He needn't have worried. After training with the guard the next morning, Attolis retreated to the room in which he was wont to sit alone, beckoning Ion to follow.
"Well?" the king asked.
A distantly expectant expression crossed his scarred face, and Ion wondered how he'd ever looked without the due respect and fear upon the cheek marked by a god.
"Are you going to spit it out, or do you enjoy keeping me waiting?"
Ion's mouth fell open in surprise.
"You mean, you already know?"
The king's arched brow suggested politely that Ion should think a little harder before speaking.
"Despite my occasional claims otherwise, I am not, in fact, omniscient. What I know is that you've been biting your tongue since yesterday afternoon."
"Of course, Your Majesty," Ion said, blushing. He drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath and looking steadily at the floor as he gathered himself.
"When I was with the king of Sounis yesterday, between appointments, I- I thought it would be harmless, you see, I-"
"What did you do?"
Ion flinched at the tone of the king's voice, which had shifted abruptly from bland tolerance to a cold demand.
"I led him on a detour through the gardens and left him – just for a moment – but it was long enough for the Mede ambassador to find him. I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I ended their conversation as quickly as I could."
The king was silent for a long moment. Ion glanced up out of habit, though he knew better than to expect the king's face to betray his thoughts. When Attolis finally spoke, his voice had returned to a careless, casual tone.
"Did you hear what they discussed?"
Ion shook his head, lowering his gaze again.
"No, Your Majesty. I…do not believe any harm was done, but your instructions were clear, and I apologize for my failure."
Attolis hummed noncommittally, no doubt spinning an elaborate plot to minimize the fallout of any potential disasters stemming from the diplomatic ambush.
Ion risked another glance at his monarch's face as he asked, hesitantly, "Your Majesty…What are you going to do with me?"
Attolis raised his eyebrow in a gesture of renewed surprise, as if the question had not occurred to him.
"What do you expect me to do with you, Ion?"
The attendant swallowed. Now or never.
"I understand if this is one too many shortcomings to forgive. His Majesty, the king of Sounis, kindly offered me a place in his service if you choose to dismiss me."
Attolis snorted.
"Of course, he would. In that case-"
"Your Majesty, please," Ion blurted, forcing the words out before he lost his chance, "I know you've already shown me more mercy than I deserve, but I want to serve you. I promise to do better if you allow it. He said, if I told you, you might let me remain."
He had fallen to his knees to better make his point and looked up at the king, awaiting his sentence.
The king of Attolia favored him with a cruel smile.
"Better to serve a king you hate than one who might not live to see his throne. Is that it?"
Ion could not keep his deep sense of offense from burning across his face, but he bit back the inflamed protests that leapt onto his tongue.
Forcing his head down, he dully said, "I can understand why Your Majesty might think so. I've given you no reason to think better of me. But I hope you will allow me to prove my intentions were not so base."
The king was in a foul mood. He had been since learning that the Mede presence off the coast of Sounis comprised nine thousand men more than had previously been reported. He'd wasted no time sending additional Attolian troops to Oneia and warnings by every means possible, leaving him nothing more to do than wait and worry.
Ion and Hilarion exchanged nervous glances as they waited outside the Mede ambassador's chambers for the king to conclude a conversation that was sure to bring him nothing but more frustration. Finally, the king strode out of Melheret's apartments. His pace was quick, and his scar faded a bit as his face paled to match it, but these were expected signs of frustration and covered the depths of his emotion like his flowing, decorative sleeves covered the dangerous hook attached to his right arm. He wouldn't show the full extent of his anger, his attendants had learned, until he was safely private in his chambers.
"The single most supremely unhelpful person I have ever met," the king was grumbling under his breath. His voice rose in pitch, though not volume, as he mocked the Mede ambassador.
"'I apologize for my ignorance of my brother ambassador's situation. After all, distance so often obscures intention…' Misunderstanding, ha!"
The king snorted.
"If he's so sorry, he should compensate me. That statuette of Prokip might make a good start to mend bridges."
Ion exchanged another brief, worried glance with Hilarion, wishing that the guard, Costis, were here instead of halfway around the world with Ambassador Ornon for some unfathomable reason of the king's. Attolis's favored lieutenant had drilled into the attendants' minds, before he'd left, the king's predilection for misdirection, complaining about trivialities to deflect attention from what really afflicted him. Everyone in the palace knew of the king's apparent fixation on Melheret's statuette, but Ion did not believe for one moment that it was truly foremost in the king's mind in this instant, not when he'd seen firsthand his care for the fledgling king of Sounis.
He wanted to assure the king that his friend would be alright, but he was certain that would be overstepping. Besides, no one could promise such a thing except the gods, and Ion could only guess what they might do.
He wondered what Costis would do if he were here. He'd shown an ability to handle the king's moods that the attendants sorely missed.
Probably distract him with some ill-advised humor. The king always seemed to like that, impertinent or not.
Before he could think better of it, Ion blurted out the first response to the king's words that came to mind.
"Trying to make allies among the Mede gods, Your Majesty? Or just admiring its resemblance to yourself?"
The king and everyone in his party froze before Ion realized what, exactly, he had said. The statuette of Prokip had had its right hand broken off in the artist's unique attempt to appease the god it represented. Before Ion could offer an excuse or apology, Attolis broke the tension with a bright, startled laugh.
"Was that a joke, Ion? I didn't know you had it in you. If I do dismiss you as an attendant, I might have to keep you as a jester."
The king's delighted, teasing tone seemed like a good sign, but the casual reminder that the king still hadn't decided to keep him was a bit discomfiting to Ion.
Doing his best to keep the unexpected cheer, Ion replied, "Perhaps, Your Majesty, but then you'd have to find someone to take my place."
"Hm, I suppose you're right. In that case, I might just have to keep you."
It was a good sign, Ion thought as the king and his train resumed their journey through the palace halls. It was not, he observed, a promise.
The palace held its breath when the first messenger from Sounis arrived. When the king interrupted Baron Anacritus to hear the messenger's news of miraculous victory, a collective sigh of relief passed through the court.
The next morning, the king was especially demanding, sending his attendants scurrying in a thousand directions at once on a slew of errands. It didn't occur to Ion to be suspicious until he found himself alone with the king, who looked at him expectantly.
"Well? Have you reconsidered Sounis's offer? He'll be making his way here soon and expecting an answer."
Ion's throat tightened. Had his efforts not been enough to make his loyalties clear?
"If you no longer desire my service, Your Majesty, it would be an honor to attend the king of Sounis. But I'd prefer to remain."
"Why?"
The king's voice, like his face, was unreadable. Ion wasn't sure how to explain his feelings and worried, for a moment, that he might not be believed. Then, he remembered the piercing look in the king's eye as he'd identified which attendant had committed which indiscretion during the first months of his reign. Surely, if he could see the truth when deliberately obscured, he would see it when sincerely offered, no matter how poorly it was expressed.
"Because you are my king. If not for you, Sounis would have fallen to the Mede, and the Queen would still be too busy fighting her own barons to counter external threats. You could have stopped our misbehavior at any time but endured it so you could fulfil your plan to purge the court. You pardoned Relius and Teleus when everyone thought you wanted revenge because you decided they were useful to Attolia. And I don't know what your favorite guard is doing with the ambassador in Medea, but I don't believe for one second you sent him on a whim or because you couldn't protect him from jealous rivals. Do you have any idea how rare it is for a king to ignore his own comfort in the service of his people?"
The king shrugged, apparently unconcerned.
"Eddis has a fair track record."
"Attolia does not. You are a gift from the gods."
The king finally betrayed some discomfort, though Ion wasn't stupid enough to believe he couldn't have hidden it if he'd wanted to.
"Laying it on a little thick, don't you think, Ion?"
"Do you find me insincere, Your Majesty?"
It wasn't a question so much as a dare, and Ion met the king's eyes fearlessly.
"No," the king said finally.
He glanced between Ion and the door through which the other attendants would soon return in an uncharacteristic show of hesitation.
"How many of you feel this way?"
"Hilarion and Philo, definitely. Some of the others, to an extent."
Attolis shook his head, suddenly looking very young.
"I thought you would all hate me, after I manipulated you so thoroughly. I was sure you'd fear me too much to cross me, after Sejanus, but I never expected loyalty."
"I can't promise not to make any more stupid mistakes," Ion said, "But I can swear I will serve you loyally for as long as you allow it."
The king smiled wryly but warmly, sudden as the sun bursting through a cloud, as he said, "You can stay as long as you'd like, Ion. Just remember, the next time you find me on the roof and Costis isn't here to bribe and bully me down, you asked for this."
Ion smirked back, recognizing the humor.
"Of course, My King."
The night after Motis and Drusis arrived in the palace, as Pheris followed Ion into his room to sleep, the attendant's words in his defense continued to turn themselves over in his mind.
Lay a hand on him and I'll cut it off.
Pheris watched Ion out of the corner of his eye. The man was fiercely loyal to the king and had made no secret of his hatred for Pheris after the revelation of his involvement in the sabotaged supply wagons on the road to Perma.
Pheris looked away when Ion caught him watching but, apparently, not fast enough to hide his thoughts.
"You're wondering why I bother defending you."
Pheris looked up, surprised at the effort at conversation, even if the man's tone was still hostile. He nodded warily.
Ion's jaw was tight as he explained, "I've never committed outright treason, not like you have. But I've done plenty to incur the king's displeasure. I know what he looks like when he's angry, and if he hasn't hanged you yet, that means he's going to forgive you."
The older attendant's expression softened for an instant, not so much at Pheris as at some unseen memory, as he added, "As someone once told me, he has a soft spot for idiots."
Ion's face hardened again, and he levelled a piercing gaze at Pheris.
"He's merciful, not stupid. Don't think you'll survive betraying him again."
Pheris nodded soberly. The king had spared him after he'd committed treason, when his grandfather would have killed him for following his instructions, if he could have reached him. He knew whose side he would choose if he were ever given the choice again.