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“How are you feeling about the king after you’ve had a bit of time to rest?”

“I pray he feels much better.” I paused, measuring my words. The last thing I wanted to do was say something offensive about my king, no matter my feelings. “Perhaps, now that we’ve both gotten some rest, we’ll like each other a bit more.”

“Oh, excellent. It’s always good to go into a situation looking on the bright side.” She patted my hands, resting hers on mine. “I never did ask, how old are you, my dear?”

“Eighteen.”

“Older than I thought, at least. But you’re too pretty and accomplished at magic to still be uncoupled. You must have dozens of suitors back home.”

“No, ma’am. That is, my aunt wouldn’t allow it.”

“Ah, never mind. We are all the richer for her oversight.” We grinned at one another, and she patted my hands again. “A dutiful marriage can quickly become a lonely one, and a pretty girl like you will find many admirers at court.”

I blushed at the thought. There truly was no better way to find the perfect fairy-tale suitor than within the walls of a grand palace. “I very much hope so. I—” I froze where I sat. Did she just say…? “Dutiful marriage?”

“Yes, my dear, that is another detail of your position I was unable to explain earlier.” She didn’t look concerned that I was suddenly concerned. Her smile was gentle, encouraging almost. “The king is, quite rightfully, very private. So to ensure loyalty, and guarantee that all the inner workings of the palace stay ‘within the family’ as it were, you have the honorable position of becoming the king’s wife.”

“Wife?” I could barely get the words out from my awe … and my nerves. My aunt loved to remind me, almost weekly, that I would never make a fit wife for anyone, that I was born to take care of her and my uncle in their old age. How that made sense to the woman, I’d never figured out. But to marry a man whom I didn’t know, who was so much older than me. Good God, over two hundred years old! I wanted a noble marriage, but to someone of my choosing. I couldn’t imagine ever being comfortable with this arrangement. “Forgive me, but I thought I had only auditioned to be His Majesty’s knight.”

“Marriage is only a formality,” she said, “but a vital one. There are certain rights only afforded his wives, information only we are privy to.”

Suddenly I remembered that, during the audition, Beric had asked if I was married. It never occurred to me that this was the reason why. “But if I am to be his wife, wouldn’t that mean…?” I couldn’t even say it, couldn’t even mime what I was thinking without feeling sick. “I mean, won’t we have to…?”

“Oh, dear girl.” The queen chuckled, patting my hand reassuringly. “Don’t look so horrified. As I said, marriage is only a formality. Your duty is not to pleasure him or bear him royal children, though those positions come with great honor. Your duty is to protect him and heal him from The Dark. In order for the system to function, every wife must play her part. The king knows this. He would never even think to ask anything more of you.”

“Thank God,” I breathed before I could stop myself.

“Most young women would be delighted to become the wife of Deus Rex. I certainly was.” She looked me over thoughtfully, and I pretended not to notice. “You met the king in a very bad state. You must remember that, in all things, there is good and bad. Nothing can be perfect.”

But it wasn’t perfection I desired. It was choice.

Well, all right—admittedly, I had expected a certain degree of perfection. I was in a royal appointment, in service of Deus Rex, after all.

“You know,” she went on, “Lady Vi and her squire Gabriel loved each other, before he died.”

“Her squire?” I asked.

Perhaps she caught a bit of my curiosity returning, because she smiled. “Yes, it was rather sweet seeing them together. He was a so-so squire before they fell for one another, if I’m honest, but after they did, his devotion to her was boundless.”

“How romantic,” I mused, falling back against the couch, “to fall in love with the man sworn to protect you.”

Kat chuckled. “I suppose it is. They were very lucky, in that way.”

“What was she like, Lady Vi?” I asked. “She must have been an incredible knight to fight alongside the king for thirty years.”

“The best I’ve ever seen. With a voice that could be heard a mile off. Armies trembled at it, the songs say.”

I found myself grinning from ear to ear. Would there eventually be songs written about me? “How marvelous.”

“Yes, well. All the songs were written by her.”

We laughed, and she patted my hand yet again. Her love language, it seemed.

“So you see, my dear,” she said, “there is so much to look forward to in your position as the king’s knight. There is duty, as you well know, but so much joy. I can’t wait for you to experience it.”

She kissed my forehead, and I felt myself freeze at the gesture, hardly knowing how to process it. Had my aunt ever kissed me the way she kissed my cousin? I could hardly remember. She’d resented me from the beginning—another mouth to feed, another body to clothe. One more obstacle in the way of Anise receiving her perfect marriage proposal.

Maybe that was why such a normal gesture felt so foreign to me.