“I’m afraid my schedule only allows for this afternoon.” Corvin checked his pocket watch with exaggerated care. “Perhaps if Safe Harbor valued punctuality as much as we do…”
“This afternoon is fine.” Darragh bit down on several choice responses. “We’ll break for lunch and resume at one.”
The moment Corvin left the council chamber, Darragh slumped in his chair. “He’s deliberately making this difficult.”
“Yes.” Helena gathered the contract documents. “He wants to test your patience before the summit. See how far he can push.”
“It’s working.” Darragh rubbed his temples. “How many more sessions today?”
“Three. Meridian until five, then the grain merchants at six, then the northern border dispute at seven.” Helena consulted her notes. “You also have Count Villiers arriving tonight from Westmarch.”
Darragh groaned. “I forgot about Villiers. Can we reschedule?”
“He’s been traveling for four days specifically for this visit.” Thomas looked up from his own stack of papers. “Minor noble, routine diplomatic courtesy. We could have Lord… I beg your pardon, King Consort Finn host the welcome dinner?”
“Finn?” Darragh hesitated. “He’s never done an official dinner alone.”
“It’s just Count Villiers and his wife,” Thomas said. “They require nothing more than a simple courtesy meal, which is hardly complicated. I can brief the king consort on the basics this afternoon.”
Darragh weighed his options. The Meridian negotiations couldn’t be delayed - Corvin would take that as weakness. The grain merchants had already rescheduled twice. And Villiers was indeed a minor count - his visit was more a formality than anything critical.
“All right.” Darragh nodded. “Ask Finn if he’s willing. Make sure he knows it’s optional.”
“I’ll go now.” Thomas stood. “He was in the conservatory earlier, working on something with the head gardener.”
/~/~/~/~/
The afternoon dragged. Corvin objected to every clause, questioned every number, and generally behaved like an ass wrapped in diplomatic language. By the time they broke at five, Darragh’s jaw ached from clenching it.
The grain merchants were easier but still exhausting - complaints about storage fees, transport costs, and dock schedules. Darragh approved their requests and sent them away happy, then immediately dove into maps of the northern border where two villages were arguing over grazing rights that should have been settled a generation ago.
“Your Majesty.” A servant appeared in the doorway. “Count Villiers has arrived. King Consort Finn is greeting him now.”
“Good.” Darragh didn’t look up from the disputed boundary lines. “Send my apologies for missing the welcome. I’ll join dinner as soon as I can.”
He managed to escape the border negotiations at eight-thirty, his head pounding and his stomach empty. The formal dining room was on the opposite side of the castle - he took the servants’ corridors to save time, straightening his collar as he walked.
The dining room doors were closed. Through them, Darragh heard the murmur of conversation, the clink of silver on china. He pushed through with an apologetic smile already arranged on his face.
The temperature in the room could have frozen wine. Count Villiers sat rigidly at the table, his expression carved from ice. His wife, Lady Marguerite, stared at her plate with the fixed concentration of someone trying very hard to be elsewhere. Finn looked pale and miserable at the head of the table, a forced smile plastered on his face.
“Count Villiers, Lady Marguerite.” Darragh crossed to them smoothly, years of court training taking over. “My deepest apologies for my tardiness. The Meridian negotiations ran longer than anticipated.”
“Your Majesty.” Villiers stood and bowed with precise correctness. “We understand the demands of kingship.”
The words were polite. The tone suggested Darragh had personally insulted the man’s ancestors.
“Please, sit.” Darragh took his own seat, catching Finn’s eye.What happened?Finn’s shoulders hunched fractionally.Everything.
The next hour was an exercise in diplomatic damage control. Darragh steered the conversation to neutral topics - the weather, the count’s journey, and Safe Harbor’s preparations for the summit. Villiers responded with cold courtesy. Lady Marguerite barely spoke. Finn said almost nothing, his usual warmth completely gone.
When the dessert course finally ended, Darragh rose. “Thank you for honoring us with your visit. I hope you’ll find your accommodations comfortable.”
“I’m certain they will be adequate.” Villiers bowed again, that same precise distance. “We’ll depart tomorrow morning, if that’s acceptable.”
“Of course.” Darragh maintained his pleasant expression. “Safe travels.”
The moment the count and his wife left, Darragh turned to Helena, who’d been observing from the side of the room. “My office. Now.”
