It had to be fatigue. Exhaustion.
“Sit. Rest for a little while. You’ve already put in a big first day as king,” Drayce urged.
Caelan dropped his eyes to the throne and sneered at it. “It’s the throne of kings at war. Bloody kings,” he growled, but he still walked toward it as if he were drawn to the damn thing.
“A throne does not determine the type of king you will be,” Drayce replied, sounding almost like Rayne.
Holding in a sigh, Caelan sat on the chair again and looked over to find that Drayce had straightened, his shoulders back. Exactly where he bragged he would be one day.
Drayce smiled at him, the worry slipping away as his eyes warmed with some other emotion Caelan wasn’t ready to give a name just yet. “And I will always be right here for you.”
Caelan tipped his head to the side and grinned up at Drayce. “And what if I prefer you to be directly beside me, holding my hand?”
Drayce braced a hand on the armrest as he leaned down. He bumped his nose against Caelan’s, and Caelan’s heart happily skipped a beat. “I will be wherever you want me to be,” he whispered. He brushed his lips across Caelan’s, drawing out the sweetest kiss and stealing Caelan’s breath away. “My king.”