“Don’t leave my side,” Elias said. He stood, back straight and a frown on his lips as he glanced toward the port. He was the picture of a prince, dressed in his own freshly washed clothing, hair pushed back delicately and held in place with a borrowed golden pin. It wasn’t something worthy of royalty, but the etching and tiny foil leaves were pretty. It was far too small to manage Samson’s mass of curls. He wasn’t even sure why he’d kept it. At least the thing had found a home now. Nestled in Elias’s raven hair, it became beautiful.

Samson watched the man, nodding. He had done his best to make himself presentable, but a pirate’s finest was nothing in comparison to a prince’s most tattered items. The idea of standing before the queen dressed as he was wasn’t particularly comforting, but it would do. At the very least, he wouldn’t be entering on unstable crutches. Regardless of what clothing he wore, he would be stepping into that meeting on his own two feet, and that was enough.

The ports of Kremal were orderly and safe, comparable to Verand’s. Here, it didn’t necessarily matter if Elias kept himself concealed in the city streets. The people may not have had the right amount of faith in the man as a leader, but there had never been any attempts to harm him. With Samson at his side, even if some foolish soul tried, it would be alright. He would be safe.

Elias took a step forward, walking down the ramp toward solid ground. Samson followed suit, keeping just a pace behind him. He had taken too many liberties in the past few days, walking directly to his side as though they were equals. It wasn’t right for him to be so casual with the man, especially not within the borders of the kingdom he ruled.

Elias glanced behind him and slowed his pace, putting himself back beside the man. Samson nearly paused to adjust his position, but if this was Elias’s way of insisting, he didn’t want to reject that. Silently, he kept where he was, remaining next to him. Regardless of propriety, he would follow the path Elias forged. That mattered more than any polite rules.

Samson’s eyes darted around the streets they moved through. The city center was busy, but not overly crowded this early in the morning. He didn’t need to be on edge. Even those whose eyes lingered on their prince didn’t let their gaze stray for long. They simply noticed and moved on. This was safe. Still, his chest felt tight.

It had been ten years since he’d set foot in Kremal. The only time he’d seen Her Majesty for in person negotiations prior had been on the neutral ground of Verand, shortly before the fight that had cost him his leg. In all technicality, he was not meant to be here. In his banishment to the sea, he had been instructed to remain away until Elias was married. He was not to have contact with the man or step within the kingdom. Even during his mother’s funeral, he had been warned to keep away.

It was strange how foreign his homeland could feel.

Elias carried himself differently here as well. It wasn’t that he looked more commanding or like he felt that he belonged here. It was not the joyous standing of a man grateful to return home. Rather, his shoulders rested too far back and his lips pressed into a tight, straight line. It wasn’t fear and it wasn’t anger, but it didn’t seem remotely positive.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” Samson asked.

He seemed surprised by that, raising a brow. “I am fine.”

It was then that Samson identified the look written on his face. He had seen it a handful of times on the ship. The moment he had looked away from the sunset over the water, the second in which he’d dropped Samson’s leg in favor of sitting stiffly in his chair. It wasn’t upset, but it was the lack of any happiness.

Had this been how he looked for the last ten years? In all these years, Samson had pictured him going about his days, floating between lectures and libraries with a content smile, at peace with the knowledge that he was safe. Perhaps Samson had thought, selfishly, that Elias would think of him from time to time with some bittersweet feeling. And, of course, there would be some handful of arguments and dark days. Those happened to even the people most worthy of happiness. No matter how Samson tried, he wouldn’t be able to keep Elias from having bad mornings or stressful afternoons, especially not from such a distance. But when he envisioned Elias in Kremal, he had pictured a man who was at least a little happy.

He had been happy before.

Back before Samson left, Elias had always had a smile on his face, laughing and enjoying everything around him. On the rare occasion he’d been permitted to walk through the streets of the capital, he’d been so excited, enraptured by the smells of the food stalls and ecstatic to see each street performer. Now, he walked forward, looking straight ahead, unfazed.

It made Samson’s heart ache and stomach churn to think that something could have happened to change him so completely from the bright, bounding child that had single handedly illuminated the palace halls to this. Not that he was unpleasant or anything was wrong with him– Elias, no matter what form he took, was a gift that Samson was grateful to receive– but the idea that there was anything that might take that light from his eyes…

Or, perhaps, Samson realized, this was just the way Elias acted around him. After all, just because Samson had returned him to his home, that didn’t mean the man enjoyed his presence. Though Elias had been much more understanding than he deserved and, for some rare few moments, he had seemed almost happy, Samson was still nothing more than a kidnapping pirate.

Elias didn’t need to speak as they approached the gates of the palace. The guards opened them without order or hesitation. They said nothing as Samson crossed the threshold with him, and Samson didn’t question it. He was an expected guest, and even if he were not, it was likely he would have been allowed inside easily enough so long as he was beside Elias.

“You said before it’s been a decade since you last were here. Have you ever been inside the palace itself?” Elias asked, finally breaking the quiet.

Samson nodded. “I was very young.”

“I see. Then you and I could have crossed paths before.”

Samson didn’t answer that. That was too dangerous. Anything that put an exact timeline on when he might have been in the palace was at risk of making Elias connect one too many dots and realize exactly who he was.

“You’ve met with my mother since?”

Samson nodded again. “Only in Verand.”

“How do you feel about her?”

Somehow, this felt safer. Perhaps if he were a citizen, it would have been more pertinent to answer with only the utmost respect. The wrong words could have been considered treason if he were. However, from the tone of Elias’s voice, it didn’t seem like he had aske with the intent of listening to praise.

“I respect her as a monarch.”

“But?”

“But I do find her unpleasant to be around for long periods of time.” Samson spoke with his hands low, close to his body. It wasn’t the sort of response that he wanted to be seen by others. “I always feel like I’m in trouble with a parent when I speak with her.”

At that, Elias finally smiled. His posture was still too straight and his steps too even. He was, in every way, the perfect picture of an heir. The tension was not gone from his body in the least. But he smiled. “Then I wish you luck in your meeting.” They came to a pause before a large door. “This is your stop.”

Samson glanced at the door. It was large and intimidating, certainly one that would lead into an important office of some sort. He didn’t want to cross its threshold. He looked to the side, finding that they were alone there. “Are you coming in with me?”

At that, Elias laughed, some twinkle in his eye returning. Samson had seen that ages ago. It was odd to see find it now, but he found himself feeling relieved. It wasn’t as bright as his laughter had once been, but it still glowed. “Is the unshakable Captain Graves afraid of my mother?”

Samson pressed his lips together, trying to find the right answer to that question. It wasn’t that he was afraid, per se, but he certainly didn’t want to enter that room alone. If pressed, he would describe his current feelings as being not dissimilar to a child who had done something wrong knowing that he would need to discuss it with his parents. It wasn’t that he was in trouble, but there would certainly be disappointment.

“I’ll go in. I’m sure if she sees that I’m safe, she might be more forgiving with you.” Elias rolled his eyes, turning the handle of the door.

The last time Samson had entered this room, he had been just fourteen. The ornate architecture and massive desk had been so much larger then, so much more terrifying. Sitting in a little chair across from Her Majesty, he had never felt smaller in his life. Then, he hadn’t been alone, and his crime had been, in her eyes, much worse than a simple kidnapping in exchange for his pay.

The woman in the massive chair behind the desk struck an imposing figure. Dressed in fine, bright silks and hair decorated with braids and jewels, she was the image of royalty. Upon seeing him, eye black eyes were cold. They didn’t change as they landed on her son, except that she narrowed her thick brows. “Elias. Go.”

The man’s fists clenched at his sides, just for a second, and then the tension was lost. “Of course, Your Majesty.” 

Samson turned, catching the man’s eye. “Your Highness–”

“I will find you before you leave.”

At that, Samson nodded. That was all he wanted. To know if he was going to see the man again, and the chance to speak to him one more time before he was gone. He was owed a proper apology for his troubles and he was owed Samson’s thanks. Through all of this, Elias had been kind, much more than he needed to be.

Samson watched as the man exited the room, and his eyes fixed on the pin in his hair. Even if the man was leaving, even if they would be apart again, he would still be carrying some small piece of him. Even if Elias threw the pin away later– it wasn’t worthy of his collection– it had been there, some temporary tangible symbol that Samson had been there as well. If he could not follow, at least he could have that knowledge.

The door closed with a loud thud, and then with a soft click.

“Well now. Henry, I hope you’re pleased with yourself. Sit.”

The sound of that name made him feel almost ill. It was not the name his mother had chosen for him and it was not a name he had wanted in the first place. Still, it was the one he had been referred to as for fourteen years. The only time it had ever felt like it held an ounce of honesty was when it was whispered tenderly by soft lips against his, and even then, it had only been so true. It was just a middle name, selected by Her Majesty at his mother’s request and only used after she had called him by it mistakenly. A nickname that had stuck. After all, the queen wouldn’t call a child by the wrong name.

Still, despite the wrongness of the name in his ears, Samson sat.

“I will make one thing extraordinarily clear to you before we even begin this meeting. Elias does not love you.”