Free The Whisperer by Fiona McIntosh Page A

look of disdain. ‘And now you’re just playing with words and talking around the issue. Tomorrow I’m riding with him. Should I fear that?’
    ‘I will be there. You have nothing to fear.’
    ‘Cake?’ Lute offered, changing the subject now that he knew Pilo was not going to enlighten him any further this evening.
    Pilo shook his head as he ushered Lute back into his sleeping chamber.
    ‘How can you resist them?’ Lute groaned.
    ‘Food doesn’t interest me.’
    ‘But these are stickycakes, Pilo. Not just food. This is the food of the gods!’
    A rare and brief smile creased Pilo’s face, gone almost as soon as it arrived.
    ‘What does interest you, anyway?’ Lute asked, licking honey from his fingers.
    ‘Plenty.’
    ‘Such as?’ Lute responded, vaguely irritated that he was being urged inside and to bed. He was sure Pilo was not as anxious about the late hour as much as his security.
    ‘Such as riding, swordsmanship, the safety of the Crown Prince.’
    ‘My parents know almost nothing about you, do they?’
    Pilo shook his head as he encouraged Lute even closer to the bedside.
    ‘Why is that?’
    ‘Do you remember how old you were when I joined the elite staff?’
    ‘Several years back.’
    ‘And you were so withdrawn you hardly spoke. Now we can’t make you stop speaking. There was another occasion when you were silent and constantly nervous, I’m told. It was when you were three.’
    Lute buttoned his nightshirt. ‘What’s your point? I’m growing up now. I feel more confident. Surely that’s normal?’
    Pilo pointed to a basin of still warm water and Lute dutifully washed his face and hands. As he handed Lute a linen to dry off with, Pilo continued. ‘My point, Prince Lute, is that on each occasion when you have become curiously introverted, the Duke has been present in Floris.’
    Lute stared at his manservant, baffled. ‘What are you saying?’
    ‘I’m not sure I’m saying anything in particular, my Prince. I’m simply trying to explain why your mother may be edgy. She connects the Duke with unease for you.’
    ‘Well, I’m fine,’ Lute said clambering into his huge bed. ‘No-one should worry.’
    ‘Excellent,’ Pilo said brightly, although Lute was not convinced that this wasn’t all part of Pilo’s usual demeanour. The man was like the almost-extinct califa: able to change colours to suit his surrounds, mood and—in Pilo’s case—particularly who he was talking to. Lute was sure no-one knew the true Pilo. The man had little patience for fools and little interest in the majority of people in the palace. Pilo seemed unimpressed by just about everyone, although Lute sensed that he very much liked and was fiercely loyal to the King and Queen. And yet, Lute knew Pilo could be highly amusing on occasions, courtesy of hispithy, dry wit. Above all, Pilo made Lute feel safe. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why he should ever feel threatened in his own home but distant memories told him he had been scared at times. Though not since Pilo’s arrival in his life.
    ‘I shall be in the adjoining chamber, as usual,’ Pilo said.
    ‘Do you sleep, Pilo?’
    ‘Never,’ the servant replied, ‘so call me any time, no matter how trivial your want may be.’
    ‘Why is Dragon here?’ Lute asked, yawning, glancing down at the enormous mastiff, the largest of the royal dogs.
    ‘Dragon does exactly as he pleases—you know that,’ Pilo answered, stroking the dog’s enormous head.
    ‘You’re fibbing again. You’ve got him here on guard, haven’t you?’
    Pilo gave the Prince a withering look. ‘I think you’re more tired than we thought. Dragon hates most people, as you well know, and he prefers to be here with us than around the Duke, who is, after all, a stranger to him. I presume you don’t plan to send him away?’
    Lute shook his head. ‘No, I like Dragon here, but I still think you made him come. It’s all part of your strange behaviour tonight.’ He yawned widely again. ‘You