#evanderxalasdair

The hour was well past midnight while Evander and Alasdair still sat bent over papers in the war room. They had been there for many hours, the other councilmen having long ago been thrown out by Alasdair or made their way to bed. Still, they had been unable to devise a plan for how to account for the shortcomings in their troops. They had been unable to acquire the recruits Evander had requested, and without them, their lines were running dangerously thin. More than once Evander had slammed his fist down and demanded they call for a draft, but Alasdair had shut him down each time. He should have been able to come up with a better plan, but the truth was, Evander’s head wasn’t there. He had only heard about half of what the council had said all day, and he definitely wasn’t putting his best effort into the problem. He had tried so hard to find the solutions that once came so naturally to him, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.

Katherine had left days ago, still confused about the truth of her position with him, and honestly, so was he. Their time together had not been as fulfilling as the last, and Evander did not know if it was because she was dealing with the shock of being told the truth, or if it was because his connection with Erika had overshadowed it. It would be another week yet before he could escape to Norway to see her. Perhaps longer if this tension did not let up. Evander knew finding the answer to this problem was also the answer to seeing her sooner, but it didn’t make it any easier. He had hardly slept since she’d left, even when Katherine had come. And even when he could go to Norway, what excuse would he give Alasdair? Despite having Erika’s permission to do so, he still had not told his oldest friend about his arrangement with her. His King had been so stressed with other affairs, he hadn’t had the time. And if Evander was honest, he did not know what Alasdair would make of someone else being as close to Evander as he was.

Head throbbing, Evander threw down the stack of papers in his hand and stood. He stalked over to the liquor cabinet, throwing the doors open as he shouted over his shoulder to Alasdair, “D’ye need a drink?”

THE SEARCH for the Scottish King was not difficult. None of the servants could tell Evander where he was off hand, which was no surprise with how they scurried around nervously trying to keep up with the flood of guests. Still, it was not hard to guess where he might be, and the Chancellor had gotten it right on his first try. After dressing in a clean tartan and running into a most delicious young woman in the corridor, Evander found his way to the war room where Kings of Scotland had held their privy council meetings for generations, but as he pushed open the door, waving off the offer of the guard to have him announced, he found Alasdair alone. Evander's friend stood at the table, back turned, surrounded by scrolls and figurines, the surface looking a mess. He leaned lazily against the door frame as he waited to be acknowledged, but when the King's attention did not shift quickly enough for him, he opened his mouth to speak.