I know I'm not supposed to do this, but I wanted to. I'm going to give you a little preview of my fourth book. Here it is. ^-^
"What are you doing here?" The man turned his head slowly. A slim smile was on the other's face. So much had passed that year.
Gabriel, although next in line for the throne, had refused kindly, explaining that he would advise whosoever was chosen and, in his words, "live as easy a life as I can with all these grandchildren and great-grand-whatever-else's I know you'll make me babysit."
Soren, too, had declined the post but had stayed on as an advisor to the king and the army general. Ryhale had ordered Amir and himself a quiet, secluded room at the palace, promised an appearance to the coronation, feasts, generally when it pleased them, and promptly dropped off the radar.
It came down to the lst of the blood.
"You had to say you were too young, didn't you?" Even as he said it, his voice was weakening. No one had heard the Yakool's voice besides his younger friend.
Michael closed the distance between them and stood leaning against the balcony with his arms on the stone banister as Uriel was. The former was dressed in a loose white shirt and rough dark cotton pants, the latter in a golden shirt and had removed the flowing imperial purple robe--which he'd tripped on more than once--in favor of his work-and-weather worn pants.
"You...look...good." It was said to break the silence.
"It itches like a etaheerfenoz*." The silence resumed. After another long pause, the sixteen-year-old looked over. The raven hair was signing various swears, some the other hadn't known existed. He sighed.
"Uriel, what's bothering you?" He moved to stand before the man. The twenty-five-year-old's face was a mash of childish fear and ancient weariness.
<<Who would obey the words of a mute king?>> A hand grasped his own. Michael gazed at him confidently, his azure eyes bright.
"I will."
*Nuxian swear (lol. mother ********.)
Tada
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