I adopted the practice of making myself available to my people without an appointment once a month from Micah. He had always given the Lucent people the opportunity to approach him, no matter their status in the community. His openness made him a fair and beloved ruler. So much of what I’m trying to do is modeled after his reign. But our differences make it impossible. Micah put his entire heart into listening to his people’s concerns. It didn’t matter how trivial those worrieswere. I can’t bring myself to genuinely care, turning my full attention to bigger troubles on the horizon. He was quick with his problem solving, and I take ages to consider the outcome. His parah sat at his side, and I miss the fuck out of Raelle.
The moment we returned home, she was surrounded by adoring siblings, an overjoyed mother, and a grateful father. I’ve known Abrum almost my entire life, and I’ve never seen him so emotional. Tears spilled from his eyes as he pulled Raelle in his arms and kissed the top of her head. She gripped his jacket, buried her face in his chest, and sweetly whispered reassurances to him. When he finally let her go, Abrum fell to one knee and bowed his head. Until the day I leave this world, I’ll clearly remember that moment. Not because of the way he humbled himself before me, but the words he spoke. I can never thank you enough for loving my daughter so much that giving up wasn’t an option. You have made my family whole again. A family I consider you a part of. I’m proud to call you many things: friend, mentee, savior, king, and most importantly... son.I helped him to his feet, and he pulled me into a hug. It was at that moment that I understood the emotion overflowing from Abrum.
The Mansi family’s joyous reunion had me putting my selfish wants aside. I was desperate to take Raelle to my room in the palace’s tower and lock us away for weeks on end. It was when I saw the way Ansley stared up at her sister with big brown eyes that I changed my mind. In her young world, Raelle had been away for what felt like forever. She needed time to reconnect, to make new happy memories. The entire family did.
Raelle put up a fight when I asked the palace staff to pack their trunks and insisted that they return to their family home in Lucent. She wanted to stay, and I wanted her to remain as well, but she needed familiarity and peace to begin putting her life back together. Stigian couldn’t offer that, and neither could Iwith the neglected duties that waited for me. When she is ready, I’ll be here waiting for her.
As much as I wish Raelle was here, I’ve had little time to truly dwell on her absence for the past two weeks. From the moment I step foot out of my quarters, I’m challenged with one issue after another. Tensions have been running high since my return. Everyone from my counsel to the merchants selling vegetables on the street debate whether I broke the treaty with Allaji. When I found Raelle, she had escaped Zekel’s palace on her own, and she and Ulric were already under attack. I just assisted them in their getaway. And that is where the waters get murky. Would she have escaped if I wasn’t there? Was the act of stepping on Allaji soil—my enemy’s land—an act of war? Do my intentions matter, especially when Raelle and the Cyffreds were taken against their will?
Technicalities aren’t ideal for one’s peace of mind where Statera-bound treaties are concerned. The deity only speaks directly to one being, and the Divine Sibyl has remained silent on the matter. Not that their lack of involvement is surprising.
With speculations running high, my people are bracing for the moment the Allaji cross our border. Every uneventful day fuels their imaginations and anxieties. We don’t let our guard down, knowing it’s not a matter of how, but when. Add the stress of an impending war to the neglect I’ve given to the everyday issues of ruling a kingdom, and it’s a recipe for disaster.
“Don’t you agree, Your Majesty?”
I shake my head and blink several times. A middle-aged woman holding up a bundle of mulled flowers comes into focus. I drifted off the moment she started prattling on about her garden and how it was the envy of her village.
“I’m sorry. What was the question?” I ask.
Her jaw-length hair swings as she jabs the dead flowers toward an old man and young boy beside her. “If Mr. Woods andhis grandson can’t control their dog, they should get rid of it. Thatthingis a menace. Don’t you agree?”
The boy kneels next to the shaggy, multi-colored dog. He runs his brown hands over the top of its head and whispers into its ear. The dog’s eyes dart around the room, searching the unfamiliar surroundings. By the look of the dirt caked on his muzzle, he just wants to get back to what comes naturally to him... digging up flowers. I can’t blame the poor creature. I’d rather be digging in the mud too.
“Mr. Woods, are the allegations true?” I ask, fighting to keep my eyes from rolling.
The old man steps forward, his back slightly hunched and legs quaking. “It is, Your Majesty. The dog is still a pup, and my grandson and I are working hard to train him when we have a free moment. It’s just the two of us, and my grandson must come to the cornfields after school until I’m done working. By the time we walk home, it’s well after dark. He plays with Max while I make dinner. Then it’s schoolwork and off to bed for us. He’s a ball of energy and has found his way out of the gated area we made for him a couple of times. But I promise we’re trying our best to train the pup.”
I lean forward and clasp my hand between my knees. “I understand your hardship, but the dog cannot destroy other people’s property, no matter how trivial it is.”
The woman places her hand over her chest and gasps. Statera forbid, I insult her roses and tulips.
“You’re right, and I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to Ms. Hollis. I beg you not to punish the pup for my shortcomings with him.”
The boy grasps the dog tighter and buries his face in its fur. A small, muffled chorus ofno, no, nofills the sanctuary.
Mr. Woods runs a hand over the boy’s dark hair as he says, “Forgive my grandson. He has lost a lot this past year. His fatherdied in the battle in Lucent and shortly after his mother became ill. Since the day the pup followed him home, the two have been inseparable. I’ll pay for the flowers and plant new ones. I just ask that you give me time to work a few extra days in the field to earn the coin to do so.”
The line between justice and compassion is clear and unfair in this case. Ms. Hollis is due compensation for her destroyed garden. Mr. Woods wants to right the wrong, but at what cost? His spine is bowed, and his hands shake. How he withstands the daunting tasks of the cornfields is a miracle. It’s not only Mr. Woods who will suffer. His grandson will spend more time in the field as well, losing out on what little quality time he has with his grandfather and dog. All of this for stupid flowers.
I look to my left, where Borin sits at the far end of the dais. He never intervenes in these matters, simply observes. Later tonight, we’ll convene in my office. He will give me his feedback on how I handled the more important issues. I’ll take to heart every suggestion he makes. But this situation isn’t one I want a learning curve on.
Keeping his hands clasped in his lap, Borin dips his chin. The small gesture triggers his voice in my head.You are king. Right or wrong, the choice is yours to make. Declare your decision with authority and most will not question it.
“You will be responsible for restoring Ms. Hollis’ garden,” I say to Mr. Woods.
The woman bounces on her toes and trills with glee. “Thank you, Your Majesty!”
I ignore her and continue to give my attention to the man and his grandson. “The palace steward will take you to our gardens. You are to pick the flowers comparable to the ones the dog dug up. It will be your job to oversee the gardener I send next week to plant them. Do you understand, Mr. Woods?”
“Yes. Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.”
“And you, young man,” I say to the boy. “Stop at the palace stables on your way home. Ask the lead stable hand if they can give you advice on how to keep your dog from digging up Ms. Hollis’ garden.”
The boy runs the back of his hands over his eyes as he stands. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The room fills with quiet chatter, and I lean back on the throne. I spare a glance at Borin, who gives another small nod of approval. The air leaves my lungs, and my fingertips work small circles into my temple. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. I’ll never comprehend how Micah did this. Mere months of being king and I swear I’ve aged decades.
The Sanctuary doors creak open, and I squeeze my eyes tighter as I rub my head harder. Here comes another meaningless disagreement that could have easily been worked out between the two parties if they would just listen to each other.
