During the night, the roads re-froze, leaving our route slushy and more miserable than before as the dense forests give way to rolling hills, plowed to bare soil. The farmland stretches on as far as I can see in every direction, nothing but gray skies and brown earth. There’s so little of interest along the way, that by the time we reach the hamlet in the center of Amberfold, I’m thrilled to see even the thatched roof cottages.
Amberfold itself is a large region, but it’s divided amongst a dozen or more minor lords, no one house controlling the policy. Here, more than most places, they look to the king for guidance and mediation.
My part in the whole thing is fairly superfluous. The group in Amberfold hears the same Unveiling announcement that was shared in Harvestmarch, and the same words will be spoken again in the Threshward Plains and Goldenmere. My presence might have caused a stir in the upper class, but out here with the farmers and tradespeople, there are greater concerns.
“Lord Lethrowen,” Xandril says to the brassy-haired demon after learning his name.
“Blessings to you and your Bride-Ascendent, Your Majesty” Lord Lethrowen says, standing before the makeshift dais the hamlet’s put in the town center. “I hope your travels have been pleasant so far?”
“It is always a pleasure to be in the reach,” Xandril says carefully. “What guidance or assistance can the Crown offer you?”
“Your Highness, Amberfold is too large a region to be continually denied court appointments…”
And so it goes. One after another, the landholders and concerned citizens come before the king, each adding another impossible puzzle to solve to his ever-growing pile.
For Lord Lethrowen, it’s court appointments.
For Lady Vornic, water rights.
Lord Eldebrinn is incensed about the failed marriage alliance between his house and House Velmarch…
On and on. I do my best to follow along, to remember everyone’s name, but my attention can’t hold for long before it starts drifting away. This trip is nothing like I imagined when I suggested joining. There’s no room for playful teasing or heartfelt conversation when every spare moment, every scrap of energy, is devoted to this cause.
He listens.
He understands.
He reassures people in the way that only a confident leader can.
And at the end of the night, when I’ve finished bathing and find him standing in front of the fireplace, staring deep into the flames, he looks like a man defeated. Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice I’m there, but I can’t look away. His broad shoulders are slumped, bowed with an invisible weight that’s pressing down on him, and his jaw is clenched tight, his breaths short and pained.
This isn’t a physical ache, though.
I never truly understood all that he does. His endless hours of meetings, the constant conflicting demands being put upon him, and always—always—being watched for the tiniest slip that can be exploited.
After only two days of witnessing it firsthand, I no longer wonder why he’s so close to breaking but rather how he hasn’t broken sooner.
He doesn’t need to carry this alone. I might not be here forever. I might not ever become the queen of Emerald Reach. But for as long as I’m here, as long as I’m with Xandril, I can help him bear this burden.
“Want some tea?” I ask, a little sad to ruin the moment. “I had Morwen pack plenty of duskthorn,” I add, holding out the tea tray I’ve brought.
He looks back to me and I can’t tell if his eyes are glowing or if it’s only the reflection from the fireplace.
If that wasn’t enough to make me melt, the rough-hewn edge to his voice when he speaks definitely is. “I’d like that,” he says, the familiar gravel back in his tone.
Much better.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Xandril
How did I think I could do this without her?
Sitting in front of the fire with my worries soothed by duskthorn and Ingrid’s deep, slow breathing lulling me to sleep, I’m starting to understand why Val and Hilduin laughed at me. For so long, I’ve done everything. I’ve done it well, and I’ve done it without help. Valenar and I support each other, but he won’t step in where he isn’t wanted, and vice versa.
Ingrid has no such qualms. Whether she’s invited or not, she’ll make my problems her own. It’s one of the most endearing—and infuriating—things about her.
It’s one of the things that will make her a great queen.
