Chapter 7: Even the King Wants Me to Get Married

The courtyard was full.

Hundreds of students. Long colored sashes for the great houses. Trunks are being unloaded from carts and carriages. Instructors in dark robes moving through the crowd with clipboards. The smell of horses, polished stone, and a cold morning. Somewhere a bell was ringing, slow and even, calling the new year to order.

Nobody was looking at the gate.

Then I stepped down from the royal carriage, and everybody was looking at the gate.

I felt the silence happen. It moved across the courtyard like a wave. A girl in a yellow sash dropped her trunk on her own foot. A boy froze with one boot half on. An instructor turned around mid-stride and forgot to finish her sentence. Three hundred faces, all at once, swung toward the king’s sigil on the carriage door, then to me, then to the small hand holding mine.

Rin pressed closer to my side.

“Alfred.”

“Yeah.”

“They are looking.”

“Yeah.”

“At us.”

“Yeah, Rin.”

“Should we look back?”

“…no. No, let’s not look back.”

I looked back.

Of course, I looked back. You cannot tell three hundred people not to look at you and then not check whether they listened. They had not listened. A girl in the front row of the watching crowd had her mouth literally open. A boy next to her was elbowing his friend. The friend was elbowing him back. Somewhere in the middle of the crowd, a senior student in a red sash was already writing something down.

The royal driver coughed politely.

“Sir.”

“Yes.”

“His Majesty is expecting you.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“His Majesty is expecting you, sir. The carriage will continue to the inner gate. The Academy proper will receive you after.”

“His Majesty.”

“Yes, sir.”

“As in, the king.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The actual king.”

“There is only the one, sir.”

I got back in the carriage.

Rin got back in the carriage. The driver shut the door. The horses moved. Three hundred faces turned to follow the carriage as it rolled across the courtyard, through a second gate I had not even noticed, and into a smaller, quieter yard paved in pale stone—the noise of the main courtyard cut off behind us. The bell kept ringing somewhere far away.

Rin had not let go of my hand.

I had not let go of hers.

I was, honestly, not sure who was holding on harder.

“Alfred.”

“Yeah, Rin.”

“What is a king?”

“…oh no.”

“Alfred.”

“He’s like — the most important man in the kingdom.”

“More important than your father.”

“Yes.”

“More important than your mother.”

“…technically.”

“Hm.”

Her ears went down. She thought about it.

“I will be polite.”

“That would be — yes. Yes, Rin. That would be helpful.”

“I will not bite him.”

“Excellent. Excellent, Rin. That is the bar. Do not bite the king. We are a team.”

She nodded, very serious.

The carriage stopped. The door opened. A man in a long blue coat with a silver chain around his neck was already there to receive us, and he bowed without a flicker on his face at the sight of a young man with a cat girl attached to his hand. He had clearly been warned. Someone had clearly sent ahead. Someone had clearly written a letter.

I did not let myself think about who.

“Master Alfred. His Majesty is in the small audience chamber. If you and your companion would follow me.”

“My companion.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are not surprised by my companion.”

“No, sir.”

“Not even a little.”

“His Majesty was informed in advance, sir.”

“By whom?”

“…it would not be my place to say, sir.”

I followed him.

The palace was not the great front palace, the one with the dome and the gold. It was a side palace. A working palace. The corridors were narrow and warm and smelled like beeswax. Servants moved aside without staring. A page boy with an armful of scrolls bowed without breaking stride. Two guards at a door bowed and pulled the door open without being asked.

The small audience chamber was not small.

It was just smaller than the throne room, which I had heard described in a tavern song once, and which apparently fit a thousand people. This room fits perhaps fifty. The ceiling was painted with gold leaves. The carpet was deep red. At the far end was a chair on a low dais — not a throne, just a very nice chair — and in the chair was a man.

The king.

He was not what I expected.

I had expected old. I had expected severe. I had expected a beard. He had the beard. Trimmed close. Mostly silver. The rest of him was somewhere in his late forties, broad in the shoulders the way an old swordsman stays broad in the shoulders, dressed in a simple dark tunic with a single chain of office and no crown at all. He had a book open on his knee. He was reading it.

He looked up when we came in.

He looked at me.

He looked at Rin.

He looked at our hands.

He set the book aside, very slowly. The corner of his mouth did a thing I recognized immediately, because my father’s mouth did the same thing yesterday in the training yard. My mother’s mouth had done it last night at dinner, and at this point, I was beginning to suspect that every adult in my life was running on the same software.

“…oh.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Oh, my.”

“Your Majesty, I —”

“You are absolutely his grandson.”

I bowed. I did not know what else to do. I bowed deep, the way my father had taught me when I was six, when he had said, you bow to two people in this world, the king and your mother, and you bow deeper to your mother. My mother was not here. The king was. I bowed to the appropriate depth.

Beside me, Rin attempted a bow.

It was the bow of a person who had never bowed before. Her ears went down with the motion. Her tail curled in close. She bent at the waist with great seriousness, kept her hand in mine the whole time, and bobbed back up with her hair slightly disordered and her cheeks slightly pink.

The king made a small, soft sound.

“Oh, dear.”

“Your Majesty, please forgive —”

“No. No, no, no, do not apologize. That was the most charming thing I have seen all month. Stand up, child—both of you. Come closer. Come, come.”

We came closer.

He looked at Rin. He looked at her with the genuine warm interest of a man who had just been handed a story he did not know about. Rin looked back at him. Her ears were still a little down. Her chin was, however, up. She was holding my hand with a grip that suggested she had decided that if anyone in this room was going to be eaten, it was not going to be me.

“What is your name, child?”

“Rin.”

“Rin?”

“Yes.”

“Rin, are you a summoned spirit?”

“…I do not know.”

“Were you in a scroll?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“…a while.”

“I see.”

He looked at me. The corner of his mouth twitched again.

“Alfred.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Your grandfather left you a scroll.”

“…yes, Your Majesty.”

“And the scroll contained Rin.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And a letter.”

“…yes, Your Majesty.”

“What did the letter say?”

“…I would prefer not to say, Your Majesty.”

“Alfred.”

“Your Majesty, with respect, the contents of that letter are a private matter between my late grandfather and myself, and I would be ashamed to repeat —”

“Alfred. I knew your grandfather.”

“Oh no.”

“For thirty years, Alfred.”

“Oh no.”

“I have a strong suspicion about the letter, Alfred.”

“Your Majesty, please —”

“He once tried to convince me, in writing, that a royal harem reform act would strengthen the kingdom, because successful generals deserved ‘a small reasonable accommodation.’ He drafted the bill himself. He drew diagrams.”

“…”

“I have the diagrams in a drawer, Alfred. They are filed under H, for Heroes, Embarrassments Of.”

“Your Majesty, I would like to formally request that I be sent home and be allowed to live in a barn.”

“Denied.”

He laughed. It was a real laugh, low and warm, the laugh of a man who had been waiting twenty years to get this moment back at the bloodline. He waved a hand. A servant somewhere produced a small chair, set it gently behind Rin, and vanished. Rin sat. She sat without letting go of my hand. Her tail curled neatly through the gap in the chair.

The king watched her sit. His eyes softened. The teasing went out of his face.

“You have been kind to her.”

“…I am trying, Your Majesty.”

“Continue trying. She is your responsibility now. The summoning bond does not undo. You understand this.”

“I understand it now, Your Majesty.”

“Good.”

He leaned back. He laced his fingers across his stomach. The teasing came back into his eyes the way a cat comes back into a kitchen after pretending to leave.

“Now. About your other situation.”

“…my other situation, Your Majesty.”

“The Haruno girl.”

“…oh no.”

“She writes lovely letters, Alfred.”

“OH NO.”

“I have received three this week.”

“Your Majesty, with all due respect —”

“They are not all signed in her name. I have noticed. I am the king, Alfred. I read a great deal of correspondence. After the second one, I began to recognize the handwriting.”

“Your Majesty, I —”

“She is very fond of you, Alfred.”

“She is terrifying, Your Majesty.”

“Yes.”

“…you agree.”

“Of course, I agree. I have eyes, Alfred. I have had this throne for twenty-eight years. I can identify a young woman with a plan at fifty paces.”

“Then —”

“And I support her completely.”

“…what?”

“Your grandfather served this kingdom faithfully. Your father serves it now. Your bloodline is valuable, Alfred, and a valuable bloodline needs to be — how shall I put this delicately — anchored. The Haruno girl is an anchor. A very determined anchor. You are a young man of demonstrated talent for slipping out of things, Alfred. You need an anchor. I approve of the anchor. The anchor has my royal blessing.”

“Your Majesty —”

“I have written her a very nice letter back. Her plums were excellent.”

“Her plums.”

“She sent a small basket with the third letter. They were dried perfectly. My head cook wishes to know her recipe.”

I sat down.

There was no chair behind me. I sat down on the carpet. I sat down on the deep red carpet of the small audience chamber of the king of the entire kingdom, and I put my face in my free hand, and I stayed like that for what felt like a very long time. Rin patted my shoulder gently with her free hand. Her tail flicked once against my arm in what I think she meant as comfort.

The king watched me with the satisfied expression of a man who had collected on a very old debt.

“Up, Alfred.”

“…”

“Up. Come. We have one more matter.”

I got up.

He stood. He came down off the dais. He was not a tall man, but he carried himself the way old swordsmen do, with the weight in the right places, and when he crossed the room to stand in front of me, I remembered that he had been a soldier before he had been a king. He looked me in the eye. The teasing was gone again. The warmth was still there.

“Alfred.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Your grandfather was my friend.”

“…yes, Your Majesty.”

“He was a great fool about women, and he was a greater man with a sword in his hand than anyone I will see again in this life. I loved him very much. When he died, I cried for a week. I will not tell you that. If you tell anyone, I will deny it. I am the king. I do not cry.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I summoned you to the Academy because the Haruno girl asked, yes. She is very persuasive. But I would have summoned you eventually regardless. Your grandfather’s blood is not something this kingdom can afford to leave in a quiet provincial guild. You will study here. You will train here. You will become whatever it is you are going to become, and you will do it where I can see you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good.”

He clapped me on the shoulder. It was the same clap my father had given me at dawn. The bruise on my shoulder gave a small, indignant throb, and I realized, with a slow and horrible clarity, that every father figure in my life was apparently going to keep hitting me in the same spot until I died.

The king stepped back. He looked down at Rin, who was still in her small chair, watching the whole exchange with the wide, patient eyes of a person who had not understood half of it and had decided, on the spot, that she did not need to.

“Rin.”

“Yes, Sir King.”

“…Sir King.”

“Yes, Sir King.”

“That is — yes. That is fine. Rin, you will stay close to him.”

“Yes, Sir King.”

“You will help him.”

“Yes, Sir King.”

“You will not bite anyone at the Academy.”

“…”

“Rin?”

“I will try, Sir King.”

“That is the best we can hope for. Go. Both of you. The Academy is waiting.”

We went.

I bowed again on the way out. Rin did her serious little bob of a bow. The king watched us go with both hands clasped behind his back, the corner of his mouth doing that thing again, the same thing my father did, the same thing my mother did, the same thing the entire kingdom was apparently in on.

The doors closed behind us.

The man in the blue coat with the silver chain led us back through the warm beeswax corridors, across the smaller pale-stone yard, and back to the carriage. The horses were waiting. The driver was waiting. The day had advanced perhaps half an hour. The sun was higher. The bell in the great courtyard had stopped ringing.

I helped Rin up into the carriage. She sat. I sat. The door shut. The carriage moved.

“Alfred.”

“Yeah.”

“The king is funny.”

“Yeah.”

“I like him.”

“Yeah, Rin.”

“Alfred.”

“Yeah.”

“Who is the Haruno girl?”

“…”

“Alfred?”

“Later, Rin.”

“Okay.”

She accepted that immediately, which was almost worse because it meant I would actually have to answer her later, and I had no idea how. I leaned my head against the carriage wall and closed my eyes. Outside, the wheels rumbled over pale stone. The carriage made the short, quiet trip back to the great courtyard, and I felt the moment we passed back through the inner gate, when the noise came up around us again — three hundred students, instructors with clipboards, the long bright morning of the new year at the Royal Academy of Magic.

The carriage stopped.

The door opened.

I took one breath. I took another. I opened my eyes.

I held out my hand. A small warm hand caught it without hesitation.

I stepped down onto the white stones of the Academy courtyard for the second time that morning, and this time I did so as a student.