“His Royal Highness, King Ragnar. And his queen, Fernanda.”
She could forgive the use of her full name. Here it seemed right.
She was firm with Ragnar, and that was good enough.
The sense of warmth that radiated inside of her when she thought of that surprised her.
It surprised her that it mattered.
That there was something between the two of them that she didn’t share with anyone else.
His hand felt warm on her arm as the two of them began to descend the stairs.
She looked at him; his face was stern. Unapproachable, even though she had a feeling he didn’t mean to be. She smiled. Doing her best to look easy for the two of them.
Yes, she was doing her best.
Because she actually cared. This wasn’t just about blending in. It wasn’t just about being the perfect accessory. She was actually trying to help him. She believed in this.
She believed in him.
This country was beautiful. Though she hadn’t seen as much of it as she would like to yet. She had fully been realizing how much she had in common with Ragnar, but she also had something in common with the people of this country.
They’d had their choices taken away from them. Their lives had been stolen from them. Their freedom had been stolen from them.
She felt a burning desire to change that. To bring back their sense of identity. To restore their dreams.
If she could do it by smiling now, then she would.
Ragnar bypassed several members of the ruling class and nobility from other countries, and she felt like she needed to offer an apologetic smile as they made their way past. But then she realized. He was moving toward his citizens. His people.
The woman that he approached looked startled, and then she began to bow.
He shook his head. “We will not stand on royal protocol,” he said. “We are family. United in our desire to change things for this country. For the better.” He stuck his hand out, and the woman took it. He shook it. His expression was grave, but it was real. Authentic. And she felt a surge of pride inside of her.
“I’m Fern,” she said. Because she decided that she would give their people that name as well. They went around and introduced themselves to every single citizen of Asland, just like that. There were tears. At one point a woman hugged Fern.
They were so hungry for joy. For a sense that someone cared about them. About how they were doing, and about their futures. The futures of their children.
An older woman clasped Fern’s hands in hers and looked up at her with shining eyes. “Queen Fernanda. When you have children it will be such a blessing.”
A pang of guilt shot through her. Because she was planning to leave. She was forging these alliances, these relationships, and then she intended to leave. She had this idea of getting on with her life, and she was overwhelmed with the deep realization that this was their life.
They weren’t just passing through. And she had to give this all the care that she would if she planned to stay forever.
Children.
If Ragnar had heard any of the exchange, nothing about his expression indicated it. She could see that his people appreciated his strength. That they responded to his demeanor. He seemed sincere because he wasn’t putting on a show. Because he was sincere.
It made her chest feel sore.
She had this idea of the way things had to be, and it was based on the actions of someone she didn’t even respect.
Ragnar had to be free to be the king that he was.
Still, she had been right to have this.
She did most of the talking when they interacted with diplomats and royals, while Ragnar ate an entire plate of small cakes.
