“Is there a table in there? Big enough for the maps? Or do you mean to use the bed?”
“The Dowager Queen had a private dining hall installed in her suites shortly before her death. It has a table that can sit twenty.”
“Good Goddess,” Edmund said. “Fine. Set everything in there. Place a guard at the door, to prevent anyone from touching the documents please.”
“I will arrange it,” the footman said. “Would one of the grounds guards be acceptable, or do you require an elf?”
“A couple of the grounds guards should be fine. Ask Jackson to provide someone clean, though. I don’t want dirty stablehands in the royal suites.”
“Of course, my lord. I shall see to it.”
“Good,” Edmund said absently. He approached Amber, who smiled up from her work. “Good morning.”
“When you appointed me the curator of the closets, I had no idea I would be up to my chin in lace,” Amber said.
Edmund smiled. He glanced at the maids, who took their cue immediately. They all curtsied and said they would get more crates from the cellars. Once alone, he said, “I’m so sorry, Amber.”
She gave him a soft smile. “I know. There were plenty of hot tempers all around last night.”
“But I said things to you...I called you words that...Goddess, Amber, I am so sorry.”
“I believe I called you a few ill-chosen words myself,” Amber said. She reached out to touch his hand. “I am not your wife. I don’t get to say those things to you.”
And, a voice deep inside his heart whispered, but you could be.
Amber’s eyes widened as much as his guilt and shame rose at the dark thought. He had no idea where the thought even came from, or what it expected him to do, but it was there, and she’s heard it. It had shut down so much of his mind that it screamed it into hers as sure as if he’d had horses drag a banner through the palace.
Panicked, he said, “Rayner gave me a huge lecture last night about needing a wife. I suppose I was trying it all out on you, too.”
“Indeed.”
“Yeah.” His brain continued to panic. “Are they...bugging you? About getting married?”
Amber gave him a very strange look, but then she seemed to relax. Whatever his mind was shouted into the void, she seemed to believe. “I am a poor widow, Edmund. I have no power or wealth to offer, so no one is going to care what I do.”
“I care.” Edmund was kicking himself. What was happening to him this morning? He was surprised Celeste’s ghost didn’t appear to hit him repeatedly with a shoe. What was he doing?
Again, Amber’s face scrunched up into that thoughtful little frown she did. He adored that...
“Apexia’s fucking tits,” Edmund muttered.
“What?”
“Um, I forgot...some books. I’ll have to send one of the servants back to the archives for them.”
“We could go together.”
“No,” Edmund said hotly. “I mean, you’re clearly busy here.”
What in Apexia’s fucking holy name was the fuck wrong with his fucking brain this morning? He needed to find a whore and find one fast because he was going to end up married to...
Panic rose in him again. Could Amber hear all this? He was never completely certain she heard actual words or thoughts, and he’d never wanted to ask. He’d asked Arrago once, but he said he had no clue. He hinted around asking Kiner, but talking to him about Amber was like talking to a stone. And he never wanted to ask Amber for fear he was pushing into a private part that he had no business.
“Are you feeling all right this morning, Edmund? Did you sleep at all?” Amber reached out to touch him.
He flinched away. “Sorry. I hurt my arm hitting Arrago last night and it hurts. A lot.”
“You hurt yourself?”
He nodded.
“Here, let me look at it.”
“No! I mean, no. Ugh, what is all of this junk anyway?”
Amber gave him another confused look before picking up a dress made of black brocade, silver thread, and pearls. “We’re cleaning out the closets. These are King Richard’s grandmother’s clothes. What do you call her? Right, the Dowager Queen. They’ve just been sitting there. The Dowager is bringing her seamstresses to help the palace’s head dressmaker to organize this.”
“The palace has a head dressmaker?”
“Apparently. She’s not going to get much work out of Bethany. So we’re gathering up the old lady’s dresses first. The Dowager—our Dowager—is going to pick out a few that we should give to the archives, and then we’ll recycle the rest. Remove the pearls and lacework, silk ribbons, all that. Then they’ll decide to do with the fabric from there. But...”
“But?”
“I wrote to the Dowager, who should be here today or tomorrow. She’s been recovering from a cold and didn’t want to travel. She’s bringing Paverly, too, so that will be nice. She said that myself, Lendra, and Bethany are all expected to provide hand-me-down dresses to our personal maids. I have three maids, Lendra has eight, and Bethany has six. We’re supposed to give them a selection of our old gowns for them to sell. But...none of us have gowns, excepting Lendra, of course.”
Edmund picked up a shoe. It had a heel, bows, and purple stitching. “For Lendra?”
“That’s a man’s court shoe from sixty years ago,” Amber said, taking the delicate item from his hand and putting it back on the table. “The Dowager said she would help me sort all this, but we don’t need most of this. There are some dresses nearly long enough for Lendra, so I’m going to put all of those aside. She can work with the seamstress to organize that. She’ll help organize the issues of the maids, because Bethany is going to cause no end of trouble over that.” Amber sighed. “There are some dresses here that Opal should fit into after a grow spurt or two. Paverly says I have to take the pearls off them because she insists Opal will eat them. I think she’s well past that stage, but...raising an Elorian child, well...”
She looked up at Edmund and his heart broke a little. It was becoming more noticeable now that there were challenges of a non-elf raising a half-elven child. Amber never knew if she was over-exaggerating, under-exaggerating, worrying, not worrying enough...She didn’t talk about it in great detail, but he knew it hurt her. He knew Opal was a reminder that she didn’t have Allric around to tell her what was normal.
“Are you still okay with Allric’s sister being here?”
“Oh yes,” Amber said. She frowned. “I didn’t mean to give the impression that I was ungrateful for Paverly’s help.”
He touched her hand and gave her a shy look. “You’re a good mother.”
Amber looked up at him with big, round eyes and tears formed in them. “Oh. Edmund.”
He pulled his hand away and forced a smile. He was letting his guard fall too much today. He shouldn’t have touched her. “Well, you are a good mother and you need to hear it sometimes, even if it’s just from me.”
“Edmund...”
He smiled brightly. He wasn’t sure it touched his eyes, but he tried. “Maybe we can turn some of these dresses into shirts for Jovan. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss his frilly tunics.”
Amber chuckled, and they seemed both relieved by the topic change. “I miss them, too.”
They chatted about the outfits for a few more moments, the awkwardness growing. Damn, he shouldn’t have touched her.
One of the maids approached. She curtsied and said, “The Dowager has arrived.”
Edmund had never been so grateful for the old lady. She could keep Amber away from him while he worked out whatever was going on in his head.
Chapter 8
AND SO THE NEXT TWO days went before Bethany was able to escape the palace for Castle Gree and the docks. She’d exchanged only momentary pleasantries with the Dowager, her daughter, and Paverly. She simply didn’t have the time for a proper social visit, and she’d not seen Paverly in ages. Allric’s sister deserved more of her time than a quick hug and ch
at in the hallways, and Bethany promised her a proper evening of wine and gossip upon her return.
“Bethany, you don’t need to cater to me,” Paverly had said. “The Dowager and the duchess have been exceptional kind to me.”
Perhaps, but Bethany wanted her people all back together. She felt the coming storm. The troubles in Taftlin had only been put aside because of the elven invasion in search of Magic. There was more to come yet, she was certain of it. She was also convinced Arrago’s old advisor, Rutherford, was involved. She had been planning to speak with Rayner and Stanley about how best to deal with someone like Rutherford when the news came about Erem.
She hadn’t forgotten him, though. When she returned, they were going to sit Arrago down and discuss what should be done to traitors. In her eye, he was a traitor. If they needed evidence, fine, she’d send spies to get it. She’d go herself if necessary. She knew this marriage came with responsibilities, and she would not shirk them.
Things had been tense, though, with Arrago since the fight. And the follow up fight. They’d also had another fight that night, in which he called her a “stubborn, selfish, self-centered woman.” She’d called him a “naïve, simple-minded, pathetic asshole.” She knew he was about to call her something significantly harsher by way of her gender, and she had lashed out at that, even though he’d not said the words.
They’d avoided each other for the rest of the planning and organizing. He left it to her, since he said he was too simple-minded to know how to load crates on to a wagon. Like the servants would even let her touch the crates, let alone him. She’d grabbed a corner of one that was slipping from a young stablehand, and it had felt like the entirety of the palace’s staff came running to stop her from dirtying her hands. When she realized she couldn’t go vent to Arrago about it, the loneliness and sadness began to settle in.
She’d been without him for a year. She’d missed him, but she’d also never been very good at being with someone. Her life had been a study in isolation. Oh, sure, she had had friends, and her, Kiner, and Jovan had had plenty of exploits over the years. But when the adventure was over, she’d always go back to her solitary life. It was a good life, and she was proud of it, but this was different.
Arrago was always around. Every conversation was about him. She had to share his bed, his breakfast table, his dinner table, his evening snack table, his meetings...She needed some space or she would suffocate.
However, as she looked out over the ocean around them, she also realized she both wanted him around and needed to be away from him at times. She didn’t know how to reconcile that in her mind and she certainly didn’t know how to make that work. Was this even normal? Goddess, she wished Jovan was around. He was good at explaining things like that.
There hadn’t been much discussion onboard for the first several days of the journey. The winds were with them so far, and the captain said they were making exceptional time. Taftlin had built several new ships during the beginning of the war, using the latest developments in shipbuilding engineering. The royal yacht had, of course, been sunk during the war. No surprise on that, considering Daniel had ordered a ship be built that had no practical abilities other than pomp. It wasn’t completely finished when it was put into service and sunk to the bottom with all souls aboard days later.
This particular ship had belonged to the old merchant fleet’s admiral, who had no interest in pomp. Apparently, he was a salty old gentleman who wanted to protect the waters against pirates and Rygents, and he didn’t see much difference between either. The new captain of this ship was fairly orderly, and the old admiral was retired comfortably in the south, near the border nation of Cul, where his wife’s people lived and with Arrago’s full pardon.
Arrago was nearly behind her before she noticed him. She glanced over at him and offered up a tight smile.
“You looked cold,” he said as a heavy weight pressed across her shoulders.
She adjusted the cloak and thanked him. “Think we’ll make it there in only two weeks?”
“If the winds hold, or so everyone says. I don’t know anything about boats beyond that they float in the water.”
“I know only slightly more,” Bethany admitted. “This is quite the ship, though. It took six weeks in the old boats I came north in, the first time. The weather was bad, though.”
Arrago let out a long sigh. “Can we be done fighting?”
A knot formed in Bethany’s chest. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”
He put an arm around her waist. “Good.”
“I’m finding all this hard.”
“Erem?”
“No, well yes. I mean all this. I never realized being married would be such an adjustment.”
Arrago chuckled. “This is my second marriage, so I’m used to it.”
“That wasn’t a real marriage.”
“A marriage of political might is still a marriage.”
“Do you miss her?”
“I’ll always miss her. She was a good friend.”
“She was a good queen, too.”
“You’ll do fine.”
“I’ll never be like her.”
“No one expects you to be.”
“Not even you?”
“Especially not me. Come inside with me. The cook made pea soup, just for you.”
“You know I don’t eat bacon, right?”
“He set aside a pot for the elves before he made it taste good.”
Bethany leaned against Arrago and soaked in the warmth and comfort. It was going to be hard, but she found herself wanting to try all the same.
XXXX
Amber walked into the parlour and was happily greeted by three grinning women. The first, an elderly human woman who wore many furs and had a blanket across her lap, held her cane, even while seated, and gave an imposing smile. The younger version of the woman sat just as primly in embroidered silks, but her smile was warmer and less calculating. And between them was a pale-skinned Elorian woman, with a soft smile and even softer eyes.
Amber saw the old lady first, and rushed to clasp hands with the elderly Dowager. “I only just heard you’d arrived. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
“Long enough, my dear. I sent the maid to fetch us tea and cakes. I’m starving.”
Amber took a seat across from the three and said to her sister-in-law, “Paverly, it is so good to see you. Opal has been asking for Pava.”
“I heartily apologize for my absence. The Dowager and the duchess took it upon themselves to show me the delights of the countryside. The time passed swifter than I’d realized. I did not mean to come to Taftlin to become a tourist, so I am sorry for my absence from your side.”
Amber waved off the apology. Paverly was Allric’s half-sister, and was rejected by his family. He’d maintain ties with her, though, and it had been his idea to ask for her help in case anything had ever happened to him. Paverly was shy like Allric, but whereas he hid it behind a wall of terseness, she hid hers in Ellentop court manners. Amber was also learning that court manners didn’t vary across nations and races nearly as much as she’d thought they would, which enraptured the Dowager’s keen sense of prosperity and etiquette.
The duchess shared how her own son missed Opal and Prince Henry greatly, and how Amber was no longer permitted to stay behind whenever the rest went visiting their various estates and holdings.
“My dear, I will take this up with the queen, if I have to,” the duchess said. She insisted everyone called her Cassandra, which Bethany did in private, but Amber found that she liked the formality of rank. It reminded her of her place.
Her smile broadened. Edmund would not like to know she’d thought that.
“I think Henry could use more companionship,” Amber said. “I worry...”
Paverly drew in a breath. “My dear sister, Opal is normal. She will not grow up as fast as Henry, but you will be surprised by the adaptability of an Elorian child. Do not discount her. And do not discount Prince He
nry. He is his father’s son. He will never mistreat her for being different than himself.”
“Indeed, my dear! Indeed!” the Dowager said.
“Besides, soon Opal will have another friend,” the duchess said.
“Who?” Paverly asked.
Amber took one look at the duchess’ glowing face and let out a little squeal of delight. She jumped from her seat to crush the woman in a hug.
“The lace! Get off her! You’ll crush the...oh, what is the point?” the Dowager said, defeated. “The lace is ruined.”
“I am so happy for you, Cassandra!” Amber said, letting the rank slip. After all, this was a moment between friends.
“Thank you!” the duchess said. “My maid will re-starch the lace, Mother. It will recover.”
The Dowager shook her head. “All decorum gone now that the queen is back.”
“You like Bethany and you know it,” Amber said with a sly grin at the other two women. She retook her seat just as the maids entered.
The maids put their trays down on the side board. One asked, “Your Grace, would you like the tables set up near you?”
“Please,” the duchess said.
Amber struggled with the rank and address for the Dowager’s family. Due to a special rule by a distant king, their family passed through the married female line. She found the distinct rules sometimes difficult to remember, and was always amazed at how easily the maids knew exactly what address to use.
The maids fussed about, and Paverly rose to fetch the old lady a slice of cake before, in her words, “She starved to death.”
Paverly carefully placed a slice of caraway cake on one of the tiny plates and passed it to the Dowager. She smiled at the maid as the maid stopped her task to pour tea into a dainty cup.
Amber had worried so much that the sight of Allric’s sister would have been too painful to bear, but it was worry for nothing. Paverly was likeable, and she took her duty very seriously. She did not try to take over raising Opal or to become a second mother that Amber knew Paverly would eventually become. Instead, she instructed Amber on what was normal, what was not, and how best to cope.
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