“I’m staying here until after the summit. I don’t care if it’s not proper protocol or whatever. Finn needs someone who knew him before all this, someone who can remind him who he actually is.” Trent’s jaw set stubbornly. “Someone who isn’t you.”
The last part hurt, but Darragh couldn’t argue. He’d lost the ability to reach Finn somewhere along the way. “Thank you.” The words felt inadequate. “Truly. He needs you.”
“He needs you, too.” Trent’s expression softened slightly. “He loves you. I could tell that from the first five minutes of watching you together. But love isn’t always enough when you’re drowning.”
“I know.”
They stood together in the manicured garden, two men who both loved Finn in different ways, both aware he was transforming into someone neither recognized.
“I tried to get him to show me what he’s working on,” Trent said after a moment. “I thought maybe I could help and take some of the pressure off. He relaxed a bit when we started reviewing the summit logistics together. At least when he’s focused on practical problems, he sounds more like himself.”
“That’s something.”
“It’s not enough, though.”
“No.” Darragh looked back toward the castle, toward the windows of Finn’s sitting room, where his husband was probably already buried in papers again. “Not nearly enough.”
/~/~/~/~/
“Your Grace should really rest.” Gordon appeared with tea just after midnight, his expression carefully neutral. “You’ve been working for eighteen hours straight.”
Finn looked up from the detailed breakdown of dietary requirements for each delegation, blinking bleary eyes. “Just finishing this section.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Gordon set the tea down and withdrew.
Trent sprawled in the chair across from Finn’s desk, long legs stretched out. He’d stayed even after Finn insisted he didn’t need company, settling in with his own book and occasionally making comments about Finn’s obsessive notetaking.
“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Trent observed now.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re wearing yourself to the bone.”
“Six weeks, Trent. Six weeks until representatives from seventeen kingdoms arrive here and judge whether Safe Harbor deserves its seat at the World Council.” Finn returned to his notes. “I can rest after.”
“Can you, though? Or will there be another crisis, another reason why you have to be perfect?”
Finn’s hand stilled on the page. “What do you want me to say? That I’m terrified I’ll ruin everything? That every time I close my eyes, I see myself making some catastrophic mistake that destroys Darragh’s kingdom?” His voice cracked. “I already know I’m not enough. I’m just trying to become enough before it’s too late.”
Trent moved to the desk, gripped Finn’s shoulder. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. The problem isn’t you - it’s this place that demands everyone pretend to be something they’re not.”
“Then I need to learn how to pretend better.”
“Is that what you want? To spend the rest of your life performing?”
“I want to not fail my husband.”
Trent opened his mouth, closed it again. Finally he squeezed Finn’s shoulder once more and stepped back. “Finish your section. But then you’re sleeping, even if I have to physically drag you to bed.”
“Darragh’s already in bed.”
“Then go be with your husband instead of with your paperwork.”
Finn glanced toward the door connecting his sitting room to their bedroom. Light still showed beneath it. Darragh was awake, probably reading. Or pretending to read while waiting to see if Finn would join him.
Guilt twisted in Finn’s chest. They’d barely spoken today beyond polite exchanges at meals and barely touched in days beyond chaste kisses goodnight.
But he still had three more delegation profiles to review.
