“Are we?” Finn’s laugh was hollow. “Because it sounds like the entire kingdom is depending on the summit being perfect, and everyone knows I’m the weak link.” He stood, pacing to the window. “Everyone already thinks I’m not qualified. Your advisers, the court, and probably half the country. Now I have to prove I am or people suffer.”
Darragh moved to stand behind him. “You’re not…”
“Don’t.” Finn’s voice cracked. “Don’t tell me I’m fine or that it doesn’t matter or that just being myself is enough. It’s not enough. It was never enough.” He turned, and Darragh saw something desperate in his eyes. “You married me because I was honest and true to myself. But honesty and being frank about matters most people are polite about doesn’t feed people when the trade agreements collapse. It doesn’t save jobs when our export market disappears.”
“Finn…”
“I need to work.” Finn moved past him, gathering papers. “I need to make sure every single detail is perfect. No mistakes. Noembarrassments. No diplomatic incidents that cost thousands of people their jobs.”
“Let me help.”
“You help by giving me space to learn what I should have known before you married me.” Finn’s hands shook slightly as he shuffled documents into order. “Jericho’s coming by in an hour to drill me on Westmarch politics. Tomorrow we’re covering proper forms of address for religious leaders. I have flash cards for the major trade routes and economic partnerships between countries…”
“You’re going to exhaust yourself.”
“Better exhausted than incompetent.” Finn met his eyes, and Darragh saw the wall there. The distance. His husband was pulling away, his armor going up. “I know what’s at stake now. I won’t let you down. I won’t let Safe Harbor down.”
Darragh wanted to pull him close, to promise everything would be fine, to take away the crushing weight of responsibility Finn had just shouldered. But the words stuck in his throat. Because he couldn’t promise it would be fine. He couldn’t guarantee the summit would succeed. And any attempt to minimize the pressure might make Finn think Darragh didn’t believe in him.
“We’re in this together,” he said instead. “Whatever happens.”
Finn nodded, but Darragh saw him retreat further behind that wall. “Together. Right.” He returned to his papers, effectively dismissing Darragh. “I really do need to prepare. Jericho will be here soon.”
Darragh stood there, useless. His husband was spiraling into obsessive preparation, taking on responsibility for an entire kingdom’s economic survival, and Darragh had no idea how to stop it. Any attempt to relieve the pressure might seem likedoubt. Any suggestion to slow down might look like he didn’t trust Finn to handle it.
He was trapped between wanting to protect Finn and needing Finn to succeed. Between his role as husband and his role as king.
“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” he said finally.
Finn just hummed acknowledgment, already absorbed in his notes.
Darragh left, closing the door softly behind him. In the hallway, he leaned against the wall, eyes closed.
I can’t believe I’m questioning whether or not I made the right choice now.Not because Finn wasn’t everything Darragh wanted. Not because Finn wasn’t capable or intelligent. But because Darragh might have sentenced the man he loved to months of crushing anxiety and impossible expectations. He might have put his own desires ahead of what was actually best for both Finn and Safe Harbor.
And the worst part was, he still didn’t know what the right answer would have been. Walking away from Finn would have felt like dying. But watching Finn destroy himself trying to be perfect might be worse.
The summit was four months away. He had four months to prove that marrying for love instead of politics hadn’t been the biggest mistake of Darragh’s reign.
He pushed off the wall and headed for his office. There was work to do - responses to draft for the Northern Collective, contingency plans to develop, and economic analyses to review. He couldn’t fix what was happening between him and Finn right now. But he could damn well make sure that if the summitsucceeded, it was because Darragh had done everything possible to support it.
Chapter Eighteen
The first thing Finn changed was his wardrobe. He stood in his dressing room the morning after Darragh left him to his studying, staring at the clothes his mother had packed so carefully before his wedding. The comfortable shirts and practical trousers hung alongside the formal court attire. He pulled out a deep green velvet jacket with silver buttons. The fabric felt heavy, restrictive. Perfect for a king consort.
He dressed completely. Jacket, waistcoat, cravat tied precisely the way Jericho had shown him. When Gordon arrived with the morning correspondence, he stopped short in the doorway.
“Your Grace?”
“Just reviewing the invitations,” Finn said, keeping his voice level and measured the way he’d been practicing. Not the rushed, enthusiastic tone that came naturally. No. He would be calm, controlled and refined.
Gordon nodded slowly. “Of course. I’ll leave them here for you.”
Finn spent the morning reviewing delegate files, committing names and faces to memory along with their political positions, family connections, and historical grievances. When his hand cramped, he flexed it once and kept writing notes. The old Finn would have taken a break, gone to find something to fix. The new Finn couldn’t afford breaks.
At lunch, Jericho arrived with more material to review.
“You look very proper,” Jericho said, eyebrows raised at Finn’s formal attire.
