over in my head, interpreting them as best I could. “You want to be free to be you, and have her love you anyway.”
“ Yeah. But she’s got this image of me and what I should be, you know? And it’s not me, Ar.”
“ I know.” I nodded, thinking more about the Mike I grew up with. “So, what was it?”
“ What was what?”
“ The personal thing you told Morg and Em, but not me.”
His lips parted in a breathy grin. “It’s private.”
“ Please tell me.”
I saw him considering it as he studied me in his peripheral, and I knew that, for the first time in so long, he saw me as his best friend again. “I spend more time down here than I do at the barracks.”
“ Hm.” I was taken aback for a moment, disguising my shock quickly with a smile. “You like hanging with the children?”
He nodded, his whole body rocking with the movement. “I get something out of this. I don’t know. I just . . . when I spend the day with them—teaching them things, playing with them, and I see the difference it makes—see them put what I’ve taught them into practice or see them behave differently each time I visit, it. . .” He stopped for a second to look at my face. “It makes my life seem like it has a purpose.”
“ Really?” was only one of the hundred questions I suddenly wanted to ask.
“ Yeah.” He looked into my eyes then at my lips, probably expecting me to laugh. “Morg thinks I should change my career path.”
“ To what?”
His hands tightened, a slow breath filling the lengthy pause. “A teacher.”
My gut dropped. “Are you—?”
“ No.” He waved a reassuring hand. “I’m not even thinking about it. You know I couldn’t leave you, but I . . . I like the idea, you know, that maybe this—” he motioned around himself and my world, “—isn’t all there is for me.”
“ And what did Em think of that?”
“ She thinks . . . She—” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Well, she said it was ridiculous. Said I was born to be Chief, and that I shouldn’t be anywhere else.”
“ I. . .” I nodded, stalling for time until I could sort my own thoughts and opinions out from my fears and worries. “Morg’s right, Mike. You’ve always been the sort of guy who’d be good at teaching. I mean, hell, you taught me nearly everything useful I know in life.”
“ Aw, shucks.”
I laughed. “Buuuut. . .”
“ I know.” He patted my hand. “I know you need me here.”
“ We won’t always, though, Mike.” I patted his hand back until he looked at me. “I think it’s great, and I think you should definitely do it. But, just . . . can you wait ‘til this Drake thing’s resolved?”
He put his arm around my neck and pulled me close. “Sure, kid. I hadn’t made any plans to go anywhere just yet. You can count on me.”
“ I know.” I smiled, pressing my brow into his kiss.
Since the king took his place on the throne, so many things had changed around here, including our secret meeting place under the Throne Room floor. The plain wooden chairs that edged the round table before had been replaced by what looked like dark-wood artefacts from King Arthur’s Vault, each one square-topped, high-backed and identical. Even the king’s and queen’s chairs were the same as everyone else’s, symbolising unity, David had told me, adding that the round table represented equality among men for the better of the kingdom.
We’d discussed brightening the room with modern lighting but, in the end, David felt it was best to leave things traditional. I guess growing up by the light of torches in sconces made him accustomed to it. But my new vampire vision hadn’t enhanced my ability to read in the dark, which was another thing that’d changed since David returned from the dead: minutes. We now documented and recorded every discussion held in this room, unless spoken in confidence—the minutes jotted down in some giant, yellowing old book with a quill and ink. David
“ Yeah. But she’s got this image of me and what I should be, you know? And it’s not me, Ar.”
“ I know.” I nodded, thinking more about the Mike I grew up with. “So, what was it?”
“ What was what?”
“ The personal thing you told Morg and Em, but not me.”
His lips parted in a breathy grin. “It’s private.”
“ Please tell me.”
I saw him considering it as he studied me in his peripheral, and I knew that, for the first time in so long, he saw me as his best friend again. “I spend more time down here than I do at the barracks.”
“ Hm.” I was taken aback for a moment, disguising my shock quickly with a smile. “You like hanging with the children?”
He nodded, his whole body rocking with the movement. “I get something out of this. I don’t know. I just . . . when I spend the day with them—teaching them things, playing with them, and I see the difference it makes—see them put what I’ve taught them into practice or see them behave differently each time I visit, it. . .” He stopped for a second to look at my face. “It makes my life seem like it has a purpose.”
“ Really?” was only one of the hundred questions I suddenly wanted to ask.
“ Yeah.” He looked into my eyes then at my lips, probably expecting me to laugh. “Morg thinks I should change my career path.”
“ To what?”
His hands tightened, a slow breath filling the lengthy pause. “A teacher.”
My gut dropped. “Are you—?”
“ No.” He waved a reassuring hand. “I’m not even thinking about it. You know I couldn’t leave you, but I . . . I like the idea, you know, that maybe this—” he motioned around himself and my world, “—isn’t all there is for me.”
“ And what did Em think of that?”
“ She thinks . . . She—” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Well, she said it was ridiculous. Said I was born to be Chief, and that I shouldn’t be anywhere else.”
“ I. . .” I nodded, stalling for time until I could sort my own thoughts and opinions out from my fears and worries. “Morg’s right, Mike. You’ve always been the sort of guy who’d be good at teaching. I mean, hell, you taught me nearly everything useful I know in life.”
“ Aw, shucks.”
I laughed. “Buuuut. . .”
“ I know.” He patted my hand. “I know you need me here.”
“ We won’t always, though, Mike.” I patted his hand back until he looked at me. “I think it’s great, and I think you should definitely do it. But, just . . . can you wait ‘til this Drake thing’s resolved?”
He put his arm around my neck and pulled me close. “Sure, kid. I hadn’t made any plans to go anywhere just yet. You can count on me.”
“ I know.” I smiled, pressing my brow into his kiss.
Since the king took his place on the throne, so many things had changed around here, including our secret meeting place under the Throne Room floor. The plain wooden chairs that edged the round table before had been replaced by what looked like dark-wood artefacts from King Arthur’s Vault, each one square-topped, high-backed and identical. Even the king’s and queen’s chairs were the same as everyone else’s, symbolising unity, David had told me, adding that the round table represented equality among men for the better of the kingdom.
We’d discussed brightening the room with modern lighting but, in the end, David felt it was best to leave things traditional. I guess growing up by the light of torches in sconces made him accustomed to it. But my new vampire vision hadn’t enhanced my ability to read in the dark, which was another thing that’d changed since David returned from the dead: minutes. We now documented and recorded every discussion held in this room, unless spoken in confidence—the minutes jotted down in some giant, yellowing old book with a quill and ink. David
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