She sniffed, fluffing the pillow. “My family would’ve told me.”
I scoffed and walked into the receiving room. Of course she’d slept beside her family—climbed into bed with her parents during a whirlstorm, perhaps. They were close. Tight knit.
And here I was, a lonely old man, never having shared a bed with another soul.
When I opened the door to the corridor, I found Greaves leaning against the wall, eyes closed, stealing what rest he could. At the sound of me, he stirred, scrubbing a hand through his short hair. Bloodshot eyes swept over me.
“Where do you want me?” he muttered, exhaustion dragging his voice low.
“Washed and in bed.” I opened the door wider to let him pass. “Clean up. Then sleep.”
His lids drooped in a slow blink, the magnitude of the past few days weighing heavy on him.
“And Nienna?” he asked.
“In bed,” I crossed the room, tugging the rope for a servant, “where she will stay. Dress before entering.”
He huffed, shrugging off his bandolier. “Afraid I’ll put you to shame?”
“She doesn’t need to be traumatized.”
He disappeared into the adjoining chamber as a servant appeared at the door.
Running a palace lived in the details. People imagined the mantle meant indulgence. Ease. The truth was, it needed structure—leadership.
Fallione and the council would be waiting in the morning.
Before then, mantles required cleaning. Dresses had to be stitched.
Nienna would need her handmaid. I wanted a larger bed and a cot in the receiving room for Greaves.
More than that, new rooms were necessary altogether. What we had no longer suited us. I refused to keep him in our chamber, lest my wife wake—or I did—with urges best met in privacy. I would not rise to that need only to send him away like an obedient hound. He was here for our protection. Proximity mattered, yet finding that balance would prove difficult.
After issuing instructions to the servant, I returned to the bedchamber. Greaves stiffened as I passed the bathing room; instinct never resting.
I ignored it and joined Nienna. Her deep blue eyes fluttered open, lashes brushing the shadows beneath them. The mattress dipped as I settled beside her. She turned at once, arm draping across my chest, leg hooking over mine.
Pain spiked through my back, and I stretched, pulling her damp hair away from her bandages. They were an angry red. I hadn’t missed her flinch when she moved too quickly. Or the way her breath caught when skin pulled tight.
“I want a bath,” she murmured, drowsiness slurring her words.
I frowned, pressing down the edge of a bandage that had lifted from her skin. “Now?”
Her quiet hum warmed my chest. “A tub—in your bathing chambers.”
“Then you shall have one,” I said. “Sleep, Nienna.”
A small sound of protest escaped her, but she was already slack with fatigue—all fight gone out. She’d been awake as long as I had. She stood and watched the entire battle, taking no rest.
Queenship was no gentler than war. She bore it with grace.
I closed my eyes, letting my body relax and sink into the mattress while my thoughts raced through unfinished tasks.
Greaves returned, dressed much like me. He rummaged about the room, stowing blades, checking the secret passage was secure, then settled on his bed. He sat for a moment, studying Nienna with his brow furrowed as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.
“What is it?” Speaking felt like climbing a mountain, taking too much energy.
“Nothing.” He shook himself, awareness snapping back as he lay down. A pained groan slipped free before he swallowed it with a hiss.
