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“True, but it feels like it.” I leaned my forehead on the cool glass of the windowpane. Part of me wished for the time of the curse. For the time it had confined me to the estate, these foolish nobles hadn’t bothered me. Fear kept them away. They had worried they might become trapped themselves should they cross the border. “Durvin, remind me to look into ways to bespell nobles who cross onto my land so that they can’t utter such nonsense while here.”
A tapping at the door signaled the arrival of my next visitor.
“I am sorry to say that would be impossible.” Durvin nodded to the attendant to open the door as he shuffled my correspondence and official documents out of sight. He carried the stack past me on his way to the safe box. “They would have nothing left to say.”
I bit back a laugh as I adjusted my clothing, smoothing away the wrinkles and checking for food. Then, taking a deep breath, I turned to face my torturer.
But it wasn’t the overbearing Lord Worhersce who greeted me. “Kate?”
“Her Majesty, Queen Kate,” the door attendant declared loudly enough to make me wince.
Dressed in a lovely green gown that perfectly complemented her skin and hair, Kate glided into the room. Although she lacked the elven grace that came so easily to my people, she made up for it with a beauty all her own. She smiled at the attendant, inclined her head to Durvin, and then offered me a deep curtsey.
Our eyes met, and it was like the sun had come out from behind a cloud in the middle of the darkest storm.
“We will leave you, Your Majesties.” Durvin waved at the attendant, motioning him to exit into the corridor.
“Thank you, Durvin.” Kate turned to offer him a smile. A twinge of jealousy and the sudden need for connection prompted me to step forward and catch her hand.
“I will cancel all of your appointments, sire,” Durvin informed me as he shooed the attendant into the corridor and pulled the door closed behind him. I glimpsed the affronted Lord Worhersce over my steward’s shoulder.
“That elf didn’t appear very happy,” Kate observed as I guided her out of sight of the window.
“He was my next appointment.”
“Then I should go. I only hoped to speak with you for a moment, not interrupt your day. I could come back later.” She turned as though to go.
“No.” I captured her other hand, drawing her deeper into the shadows next to the fireplace. “I am glad you came.”
“You are?” Her dark-hazel eyes lightened to a green hue as they studied my features. She extracted her right hand from my grasp. “Have you been ill?” Slender, cool fingers stroked my cheek. I lowered my face closer and leaned into the gentle press of her palm against my jaw. “Your eyes appear weary,” she observed.
I closed them and drank in her closeness. “Not ill.” I leaned closer and breathed deeply of her scent. A subtle hint of lemon and an unnamed essence that was hers alone filled my senses. “Weary.” Slipping my arm around her waist, I nuzzled her temple. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“From what?” She leaned back to see my face, but she couldn’t get far. I tightened my hold.
“Pompous noblemen who believe they know how to run my life.” Then, I kissed her.
She tasted of comfort and connection, two sensations I had been missing in my life since the curse broke. I tightened my embrace, crushing silk, satin, and probably a ribbon or two, but I didn’t care. It required all my self-control and sense of duty to pull me from her warm presence every morning, and she was all I longed for each evening. I poured that yearning into my kiss.
“Emrys?” she whispered as she regarded me intently. “What is wrong?”
I focused on the tendril of curling chestnut hair that had escaped her braids near her ear. Catching the loop with a fingertip, I tugged it free so that it curled against her temple and caressed her cheek. “I can’t kiss my wife because I want to?”
“Not when your brow wrinkles like this.” She rubbed the space between my eyebrows where my skin puckered when I frowned. “You are worried. Why?”
I threaded my finger through the silken curl. “Too much work and not enough time to get to know my new wife.” Shifting my focus to her face, I admired her soft hazel eyes. At that moment, they were more golden than anything else. “Did you know your eyes change colors?”
She snorted softly. “They don’t, but yours do.” Then, after pushing against my chest so that I released her, she moved away toward my desk. “They are more silver or blue, depending on your mood.”
“It is an elven trait, but I never knew human eyes did the same.”
“They don’t.” She approached a stack of letters perched on the edge of the desktop. “Is there any way I can help? Answer letters, file, sort, or oversee a task?” She didn’t touch the stack of paper and seals with elaborate ribbons. “My Elvish isn’t even close to adequate. I am studying, though.” She flashed me a smile. “But I know Gargoyle and some Fae dialects. Would any of those be a good fit?”
“I am sorry to say that most of those won’t be helpful. The gargoyles only use Elvish in official communications. The only documents Common in that stack are the letters from human ambassadors. Why the sudden interest in my work?”
She circled the piles. “I have mastered all of my social lessons, aside from the formal dances, which Lady Channing hopes you can change for me, especially the opening dance at my presentation celebration.” She flinched ever so slightly while studying the bust of my great-grandfather, the first of the current familial line.
His noble head and shoulders rested on a pedestal tucked into a nook in the wall. Chin raised and brows furrowed, he gazed regally into the fireplace across the room from his nook. For such a grave personage, he had a reputation for having a good sense of humor.
