Long after Andon had excused himself, he still sat there, the words bitter on his tongue.
Yet he had said them without remorse. As if he didn't know that the man he was punishing was innocent of the allegations thrown against him. As if he didn't know that Andon would die for him if such a situation arose. Sending him to the South, cutting him off for a whole year, would sound like mercy to the court, but it was suicide for Andon.
And he knew it.
The other courtiers had advised that he castrate him for breaking his vows of abstaining from women. Especially the King's bride-to-be.
But that was too extreme to even be considered.
Andon wasn't an animal to be butchered and burned - he was his only friend.
His thoughts hung on the word.
Friend.
It felt good to say it.
"Friend." He said it out loud.
How swiftly would a year pass? Imagining the castle without Andon was futile.
Yeren kicked his chair back and winced as it scraped along the marble floor loudly.
