After she fled, Finn stood in the middle of the sitting room, screwdriver growing heavy in his hand. He looked down at hispalms, at the calluses built up over years of honest work, at the slight scar across his thumb from that time he’d slipped with a chisel while carving a decorative panel for the village hall.
Hands that had built things, fixed things. Hands that worked to create tangible improvements to people’s lives.
What use are they now?
He set his tools on the side table and moved to the window, staring out over the castle grounds. The gardens needed work - he could see loose stones in the pathway, a section of trellis pulling away from the wall, and the roof tiles on the eastern wing that sat at odd angles. His fingers itched to grab a hammer, to climb a ladder, todo somethinghe was actually good at.
But king consorts didn’t do that sort of work. King consorts attended council meetings where they didn’t understand the discussions. King Consorts reorganized laundry schedules and created disasters in the process. King consorts, apparently, had servants who were horrified when they tried to fix a simple window latch. In other words, king consorts were useless, or at least that’s how Finn was feeling.
The door opened again, softer this time. Finn didn’t need to turn to know it was Darragh. He’d learned to recognize his husband’s footsteps and the particular way he moved through a room.
“Gordon said you had a rough day.” Darragh’s arms wrapped around Finn from behind, his chin resting on Finn’s shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”
Finn leaned back into the embrace, taking comfort in Darragh’s solid warmth even as the words tangled in his throat. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Just try.”
“Everything I’m good at, everything I know how to do…none of it matters here.” Finn gestured vaguely at the window, the castle, the world beyond. “In Winrone, I knew who I was. I was useful. People needed me to fix their roofs, solve their problems, and coordinate projects. Ihelpedpeople. Here, I’m just...decorative. Like expensive furniture nobody’s quite sure how to arrange.”
“That’s not true.” Darragh’s voice was firm. “You’re learning…”
“Am I?” Finn pulled away, turning to face him. “I’ve been here a week, Darragh. One week. And I’ve already proven I don’t understand economics, don’t know how castles function, and shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions without supervision.” He laughed, the sound bitter even to his own ears. “Maybe your advisers were right. Maybe I’m not suitable for this.”
“Don’t say that.” Darragh reached for him, but Finn stepped back.
“A maid just found me fixing a window latch with my own hands. She looked at me like I’d committed some kind of crime. And maybe I had. Maybe there’s some rule here that king consorts aren’t supposed to have calluses or know which end of a screwdriver to hold. Another rule I didn’t know.” Finn’s throat tightened. “I don’t know how to be this person you need me to be.”
“I need you to beyou.” Darragh closed the distance between them, his hands gentle on Finn’s shoulders. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. The person who argues with me, challenges me, sees me as Darragh instead of just the king. You know all this. I didn’t marry you because I needed a perfectly trained consort who knows all the right protocols. I married you because you’re a genuine person.”
“Genuinely incompetent.” Finn tried for a smile and failed. “It’s a great combination.”
“You’re not incompetent. You’re adjusting.” Darragh’s thumb traced small circles on Finn’s shoulder. “This is a lot to take in all at once. But you’ll learn. You’ll find your footing. Give it time.”
Give it time.How much time? Weeks? Months? Years? And what if he never adjusted? What if this feeling of uselessness, of being fundamentally unsuited for this life, never went away?
“I know you’re right,” Finn said, because it was what Darragh needed to hear. “I’m just tired today. It’ll be better tomorrow.”
“That’s my Finn.” Darragh kissed his forehead, his temple, his lips. “Come to bed. You’ll feel better after some rest.”
They went through their evening routine - servants helping Finn out of his formal clothing, because apparently he couldn’t even undress himself properly without assistance. Darragh chatted about his own day, about meetings and decisions and the constant demands of ruling a kingdom, and Finn made the appropriate sounds of interest while his mind spun in circles.
In bed, Darragh pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before his breathing evened out into sleep.
Finn lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
In Winrone, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d go for walks through the village, check on projects, and make plans for the next day’s work. Wandering the castle at night felt wrong somehow - like he needed permission to move through spaces that were technically his home but still felt foreign.
Darragh’s arm was heavy across Finn’s chest, warm and reassuring. His husband trusted him and apparently believed in him.He did choose me above everyone else.But that didn’t stop Finn’s concern that Darragh’s trust was misplaced.
Give it time,Darragh had said. But what if time didn’t fix it? What if Finn was fundamentally wrong for his role, no matterhow much time passed or how hard he tried to learn? Loving the king was one thing - being a decent king consort was something else entirely. Finn closed his eyes and tried to believe everything would be all right. He failed at that, too.
Chapter Fifteen
“The trade agreement with Meridian is standard protocol.” Darragh flipped through the contract for what felt like the hundredth time. “It’s the same tariff structure we’ve used for five years. I don’t understand why they’re suddenly demanding renegotiation.”
“Because they can.” Lord Corvin, Meridian’s chief negotiator, smiled without warmth. “You wish to maintain favorable relations before the World Council summit, yes? Then you’ll find our revised terms reasonable.”
Bastard.Darragh kept his expression neutral. “We’ll review your proposals overnight and reconvene tomorrow morning.”
