Chapter 56. The summons

He sat in the throne room brooding when she was escorted in to see him."He's in a wicked foul mood," one of the goblins hissed at her.

"And it's your fault!" the other accused.

She muttered darkly under her breathe something about fiction being just that… fiction.

He looked up, his eyes like storms at sea. "Out," he said in a low, barely audible tone.

"But," one of the goblins bobbed up and down. "We want to watch…"

One flash of the King's eyes was enough to send the two escorts scurrying out of the room. He sat upright, tapped his fingers on the side rail of the great throne before he stood up and walked with grace over to the keg that was still leaking on his floor. He found a tankard beside the keg that didn't look too dirty. Shook it out and filled it, before he offered it to the woman. She hesitantly took it, and thanked him. He found a second tankard and after shaking it out also filled it as well.

"Goblin ale is not something for the fainthearted," he warned before he clinked his tankard against hers. "Here's to them... brought us this far And to them we've yet to see,
Them that made us what we are, And them that we will be."
He said with a bit of humor.

She looked at him, then at the drink in her hand. "Sláinte" she countered and took a long drink.

After he lowered his tankard he looked her in the eye. "Did you get it out of your system?"

She knew he was referring to her latest tale. "It's just a story," she protested weakly.

"Did you get it out of your system?" He repeated a bit more dryly.

"Yes," she sipped the ale again.

"Good." He took a long drink, and added. "I don't want to go through this again."

The Scribe looked at him, "I can't promise that."

He took a long breath and sighed. "Warn me next time."

"That I can do," she agreed.

"I'd rather read stories about my brother trying to woe Sarah then read something like this from your pen again." The King stated.

"I had to get it out of my system…." she muttered.

"Some things should be left unsaid," he suggested with a veiled threat.

"I'll give it consideration," she promised.

"Go home," the King said softly. "Before I forget we have a truce."

The scribe didn't have to be told twice she moved quickly out of the presence of the King and counted her blessings. She knew that his father's fondness for her was one of the things that protected her. "Ink, Blot, he's sending me home…"