“I have missed you so much,love,” he growls, his hands holding me in place while he kisses from my throat down to my breasts.
Shame washes over me, and I feel exposed. The servants are trying to look anywhere else but at us, but I can feel theirjudgment nevertheless.
“Alright, everyone, let us go back inside,” Aileen says cheerily, and I have seldom been more thankful for her intervention than I am right now.
That night, Charles loves me with a hunger that feels almost desperate. We make love over and over again, until I feel sore in all the right places and we collapse on top of each other, exhausted, but happy.
The next morning, we attend court together.
I take my seat beside Charles, my spine straight, my hands folded neatly in my lap. He looks every bit the King—he exchanged his fighting gear for dark tunics, his posture is regal, and his expression unreadable.
There are more people here than at the last few council meetings I attended. Aynhard has returned with Charles, and he is sitting lazily in a chair to his left. I can see him watching me from the corner of my eye, as if he is trying to figure out what the Devil’s mercy I am doing here. The court master takes his cane and taps it on the stone floor multiple times. When the murmurs die down, Charles rises.
“I want to hear what has occurred in my absence,” he says, his voice carrying easily through the chamber. “What matters demand my attention?”
The court master clears his throat and steps forward.
“Your Majesty—”
Charles lifts a hand, stopping him without even looking. His gaze shifts to me instead. “I would like to hear from my wife first.”
A ripple of surprise moves through the room. I feel it like a physical thing, but I keep my expression calm and rise whenhe nods for me to speak. Aynhard has abruptly sat up straight in his chair. So this wasn’t an agreed-upon tactic to throw the assembled court off kilter.
“The court has remained in Acheron throughout the summer,” I begin. “The surrounding villages have borne the weight of it. Several farming families have come forward with concerns—specifically about the levies placed on their harvests.”
The court master stiffens beside me, and probably would have described these circumstances more…diplomatically.
I continue, “They fear they will not have enough to last the winter if the court remains. To ease the strain, the court master proposed that we travel for the colder months—reducing the burden on a single region.”
Charles’s jaw tightens. I notice it immediately.
He likes Acheron. He likes the hot springs, the enclosed valley, the illusion of permanence. He likes ruling from a place that feels untouched by the world beyond its stone walls.
“And you agreed to this?” he asks coolly.
“I did,” I answer. “It seemed…fair.”
He exhales through his nose, then nods once. “Perhaps,” he says.
He pauses, then adds, “There is unrest in the South. A noble house has grown…difficult.”
My heart lifts before I can stop it.
“The South?” I ask, too quickly.
He glances at me, something sharp flickering in his eyes, but he doesn’t comment. “Yes. We may be required to travel there regardless of the harvest situation.”
Closer to home.
I sit back down, my pulse light, a warmth spreading throughmy chest that feels dangerously close to hope.
The court master clears his throat again. “There is also the matter of the clergy, Your Majesty.”
Charles’s shoulders tense.
“The Pope grows impatient,” the court master continues carefully. “He has sent another letter regarding the northern raids. He believes stronger measures should be taken.”
Silence falls heavy over the chamber.
