“You’re worried about Tallon.”
Her gaze drifted toward the darkened fields. “I want it to be over.”
It was a mutual desire. Within the Golden Palace, with her beside me, I could pretend that everything was fine—Radaan was back to normal. That nothing lurked beyond the walls. That a bastard didn’t roam the wilds.
Yet my friend remained missing.
Soldiers gone. Velli in my lands. The desire to push it all aside felt selfish, even cruel, and still it lived in me. I longed for a lifetime of moments like this; hidden away from the world and all its demands. What kind of monster did that make me?
With a quiet breath, I set my cup down and stepped closer to her side. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, mindful of her wound.
Yet another reminder of Tallon’s damage. Gods, if it scarred, it would remind me of my failure every day.
Her head tipped back, soft blonde waves brushing my chin as she stared into the constellations. Fields stretched below us, harvests underway. My lips curved against her hair, our poses a reminder. She yearned for the sky. I belonged to the ground.
“Why didn’t you eat tonight?” I asked softly, heart pounding. Had she noticed? Counted the days? Had her maid spoken out of turn? If—and it remained only a thought—she carried a child, it needed nourishment. It would not survive her picking at food like a bird at seed.
Her spine stiffened, a brief flinch before she eased. “I had tea with the noblewomen. Too many cakes.”
Tea, yes. That much was true. But indulgence? Unlikely. Not among women hungry for gossip. My hand slipped beneath her dragonscale mantle, warming the bare skin of her arm.
“I expect you to eat first meal.”
Her stomach clenched, and my teeth ground together. Elohios, was she unwell? She would’ve told me. Illness could not hide within palace walls so close to a wedding.
She leaned back against me, fingers lifting to cup my jaw. “Are you monitoring my meals, dear husband?”
“Your health,” I corrected, kissing her temple. “The Queen of Radaan matters above all else.”
“Then I should return the favor.” She turned, hopping onto the low sandstone wall, starlight catching in her gaze. “How is your stamina, dear king?”
Words lodged in my throat, uncertainty threading through me. “You already know, but I’d be glad to demonstrate on our wedding night.”
Her head tilted, suspicion sharpening her eyes. I lifted my cooling mug, cider dull and tepid as it slid down to my stomach—a deflection. I needed answers before I took her again.
“But for now, I can give you this.” I stepped between her knees, drew her mouth to mine. Cool mint met warm spice. Her sigh unfurled, perfect and soft, and she melted into my embrace as if it were her home.
Like she belonged with me.
The healer strode into my office, his weathered face pinched with worry. Greaves slipped in behind him, his curiosity about why I’d summoned him written plain on his expression.
The elderly man greeted me with a deep bow. “My king.”
I inclined my head, honoring his station. “Master Healer Rodrick. Thank you for coming.”
“We are at your service. How may I assist you today?” His beady eyes traced my mantle, then down my chest, as if he might see through the clothing to whatever ailment lay beneath.
“Sit.” I gestured to the chair, and he lowered himself with care, spine rigid, black robes smoothed flat. “What we discuss does not leave this room.”
His expression shuttered at once. Tension creased his features. “Of course, my king.”
“I require your oath.” My voice remained even. “This conversation shall not be repeated or hinted at. If whispers reach my ears, your head will decorate the executioner’s table, and your blood will feed its flowers.”
Color drained from his face. He swallowed hard. “You have my word.”
My stare held a breath longer. He needed to understand the weight of it. I did not seek this knowledge lightly, and I would not allow enemies or would-be traitors to wield it.
“Explain the parameters of a woman with child.”
