“Honey in her tea instead of sugar. Apples sliced thin, not wedges. For breakfast, she prefers her eggs cooked until the whites are just set but the yolks remain soft.” The head cook ticked the items off on her fingers. “Oh, and she loves her bread toasted almost to the point of burning. Said she loves crunchy things.”
Each detail was a revelation, small pieces of Cyrene I eagerly absorbed. I’d been so focused on keeping her safe and on navigating our arrangement, that I’d failed to observe the simple preferences that made her who she was. I’d fix that now.
“Tell me everything.” I leaned against the counter. “I want to know what she likes, not only breakfast items.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you feeling well, Your Majesty?”
“Extraordinarily well. Better than I have in years.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “I see.”
“What do you see?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing that isn’t written all over your face, sire.” She turned, issuing brisk orders to her staff before facing me again. “We’ll make her a proper breakfast together.”
For the next half hour, I learned more about my wife from my kitchen staff than I had in all our conversations. She hummed while eating things she enjoyed. She had a weakness for sweets but would always choose fruit if given the option. When especially pleased with a meal, she would feed small bits to Quandary from her fingers, though she thought no one noticed.
Each new fact was a treasure I hoarded as tightly as my dragon king friend, Raoul, collected jewelry.
“She likes it when the flowers on her breakfast tray face east,” said the youngest cook. “Says it helps them greet the sun properly.”
I filed that away with all the rest.
When the tray was finally prepared with berry tartlets, soft-cooked eggs, sliced apples arranged in a spiral, and tea with honey, I studied the tray, eager to bring it to Cyrene. The head cook placed a small purple flower on the eastern edge of the tray with a wink.
“Thank you,” I said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
Her eyes sparkled. “You’re very welcome.” She paused, then leaned closer, lowering her voice, though the rest of the staff scooted near, eager to hear every word. “The queen speaks highly of you. Never fear her affection.”
The other staff nodded.
“Again, thank you.”
I was still smiling as I carried the tray through the castle corridors. Several courtiers stopped mid-conversation when they saw me, their expressions a mixture of shock and speculation. They must wonder what had changed.
But I was done hiding how I felt about Cyrene.
I started singing the tune she’d been humming earlier. The notes felt strange on my tongue, too bright for the solemn halls I’d inherited, but somehow right all the same. When I passed my Uncle Prentiss in the eastern corridor, his jaw dropped.
“Are you…singing?” he asked, as if I’d grown a second head.
“Yes I am,” I said. “I can sing louder if you’d like.”
He took a step back. “Who are you and what have you done with my nephew?”
I laughed, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “Perhaps I’ve been enchanted. Bewitched by a joy witch.”
“You’re…joking.” He squinted at me. “You never joke.”
“Apparently I do now.” I continued down the hall, calling over my shoulder. “You should try it sometime, Uncle. It’s quite liberating.”
I left him staring after me, probably wondering if I’d lost my mind. Perhaps I had. Or perhaps I’d finally found it, after years of ruling with only half my soul intact.
The spiral staircase to Cyrene’s tower provided a challenge with the breakfast tray, but I managed without spilling. Her humming grew louder as I climbed, punctuated by what sounded like muttered curses and the occasional rustle of pages turning.
When I reached the doorway, I paused, watching her. She stood at the workbench, her hair loose around her shoulders and spiraling down her back, dressed in a peach-colored gown that made her look absolutely gorgeous. Golden light danced from her fingertips as she attempted a spell, her nose scrunched in concentration.
Quandary perched nearby, watching with what I swore was amusement as a small potted plant danced across the tabletop.
