“It really is.” Finn took a bite of tart. “This is excellent, by the way. Mrs. Weatherby makes something similar, but I think your cooks might have her beat.”
“Don’t tell her that.”
“I wouldn’t dare. She’d stop inviting me for dinner.”
After dessert, Darragh stood. “Do you want to take a walk with me?”
Finn groaned as he rubbed his stomach. “I think that’s a good idea. Where can we go?”
Darragh understood the subtext - where could they go where they wouldn’t be interrupted by other people. “The gardens. I need fresh air after being inside all day, and I want to show you something.”
They left the dining room and walked through the castle corridors. Darragh noticed Finn looking at everything - the paintings, the architecture, the way hallways connected. When they passed a section where the stone wall showed obvious repair work, Finn stopped.
“This is new construction, isn’t it?” he said, running his hand over the stone. “Recent, too. Maybe five years old?”
Finn had a keen eye. “Six. There was a fire in this wing. We had to rebuild the entire east section.”
Finn examined the repairs more closely. “The craftsmanship is good, but they didn’t match the mortar quite right. See how the color’s slightly off? In twenty years this repair will be obvious even from a distance.”
Darragh peered at where Finn was indicating. He’d never noticed. “Can it be fixed?”
“Sure. You’d need to repaint the joints with mortar that matches the original stone color. It’s tedious work but not difficult.” Finn stepped back. “Though I suppose the king has more important things to worry about than matching mortar.”
“The king does,” Darragh agreed. “But I don’t. I care about the castle and about maintaining it properly. If something’s wrong, I want to know about it.”
“Then you should have someone check all the repairs from that fire. If they used the wrong mortar here, they probably used it throughout the entire section.”
They continued walking, and Finn kept pointing out details - all little things, but areas where fixing was needed. There were places where water damage showed in the ceiling corners, a window frame that was starting to rot, and the stone steps that had worn unevenly from centuries of use.
“You see the building differently than most people,” Darragh observed. “Most people are complimenting the décor and the tapestries.”
“I can’t help it. I see what needs fixing,” Finn said as he shrugged. “Occupational hazard. I’m always looking for ways I can help.”
They reached the gardens, and Darragh led Finn down a path away from the formal flower beds toward a wilder section where trees grew thick and paths wound through natural growth.
“This is incredible,” Finn said, looking around. “The formal gardens are beautiful, but this feels real, as if the plants are just growing the way nature intended.”
“My mother designed this section. She said she needed somewhere that felt alive, not arranged.” Darragh walked along the path, Finn beside him. “I come here when I need to think.”
“It’s very peaceful.”
They walked in comfortable silence for a while. The sun was setting, casting long shadows through the trees. Darragh found himself very aware of Finn’s presence beside him - the way Finn moved confidently now that they were outside despite the unfamiliar territory – and the occasional brush of their shoulders when the path narrowed.
“Can I ask you something?” Finn asked eventually.
“Of course.” Darragh wanted Finn to know about him as much as he wanted to learn what made Finn smile.
“Why did you choose me? Out of all those candidates, all those people with court experience, political training, and proper backgrounds, why choose someone who has none of that?”
Darragh stopped walking and turned to face Finn. They stood close together on the narrow path, close enough that Darragh could see the exact shade of brown in Finn’s eyes.
“Because everyone else was performing,” Darragh said softly. “They all had rehearsed speeches and tried to guess what type of behavior would suit me, without ever asking me first. They agreed with everything I said and presented perfect versions of themselves with all the right qualifications, but there was no personality at all.
“You need to know this. It’s been less than a week, and I’ve forgotten them all - they’re a mass of faces I have no wish to get to know better.” He held Finn’s gaze. “You walked in and told me you’d be terrible at the job, discussed my kingdom’s reputation, and spoke your mind about policy. You were real to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Finn’s face looked flushed, evident even with the shadow of the tree they were standing by. “And that’s what you want? Someone real?”
“That’s what I want and need,” Darragh corrected. “I need someone who’ll tell me when I’m wrong, who’ll challenge my thinking, who won’t just smile and nod while I make mistakes.” He took a breath. “And I want someone who doesn’t make me look for an exit when we’re in the same room together. I want someone I actually like, not just someone I have to tolerate.”
