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Chapter Six
Already sweltering in the mid-morning heat, I sought out the shade of the vine-covered walkways which ran through the palace gardens so I could read further over the reports. I waved when I spotted Jiron and Wyatt in the distance. The huge guard had his blonde-haired Lukian sitting on his shoulders beneath a tall apple tree, and they were both laughing as Wyatt tried to pluck the fruit from the branches only for Jiron to duck away at the last second and remove it from his reach.
It was good to see Ren’s oldest friend enjoying himself. Jiron had suffered so much for us – and even before that, had given up his life in unquestioning service to the crown – and he deserved something special that was just for him.
And Wyatt was definitely that. The man was an unstoppable whirlwind of energy and optimism, reminding me of Ren in many ways...only without the arrogance and sadism that made my husband the formidable, sexy force of nature he was. It was a good balance to Jiron’s quiet stoicism, and I’d found it incredible to watch the young gardener bring life to Jiron’s usually expressionless countenance over the past few months, as well as a renewed fight against his mental demons.
“King Consort Aratorre!”
I sighed. There were few people who still insisted on naming me with my title despite my protests, and only one whose voice rattled through my head like that. It wasn’t that it wasparticularly shrill in tone – more that her words were always so drenched in disapproval and distaste that they felt as though they were a physical projectile aimed directly at me.
“Councillor Morales,” I said wearily, not bothering to plaster a smile on my face as she and Councillor Vidrio approached. I had limited energy for playing politics, and Morales, as Ren’s closest and most adept advisor, was far too familiar with my cantankerous personality for me to try to hide it.
“A pleasure to be greeted so warmly, as always, Your Highness,” she said cuttingly. I pulled a face at her, scowling when Parvan offered a discreet cough from a few paces away. A year as my guard, and the man still hadn’t learned that I didn’t give a fuck about civility? He was wasting his breath on trying to teach me it, yet was proving as stubborn as me in refusing to give up on the attempt.
Vidrio just bowed to me, low and formal. Something else I hated. “Have you seen His Majesty?” he asked in his soft, even voice that never seemed to waver. He’d trained for priesthood in his early years, and still retained the characteristic soothing calmness and a fondness for donning shapeless grey robes. Ren, who adored colourful clothing that attracted attention like the fucking peacock he was, had been horrified to learn that the councillor didn’t own any clothes thatweren’ta shade of grey.
I glanced up at the huge clock on the wall of the central tower. “He’ll be taking citizen appearances in the throne room by now.” I paused. “It’s the room with the big golden chair and lots of adoring people, if you’re having trouble finding it?”
Morales offered me a scathing look which made me feel about three inches tall. She was admittedly an imposing height, but it was the way the woman held herself that made her so terrifying: always so composed, so unaffected. Sweat was dripping from mybrow from the heat of the sun, and yet her long dark brown hair and crisp clothing appeared as impeccably styled as always.
One perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose on the foreboding sharp face as she stared me down.
I glanced at my boots, chastised in a manner that usually only my siblings could achieve. “But you’ve…probably already checked there?”
“Yes, king consort, we have checked there. His presence was noted as absent, as it was in the sixteen other places we looked, hence why we are resorting to talking toyou.”
The dry tedium in her voice riled me, and I had an equally disparaging and sarcastic response ready on my tongue when her words sank in.
“He’s...Ren’s missing?”
Vidrio hummed and Morales gave a disdainful shake of her head. “Of course he’s not missing,” she said dismissively, and like a fool, I believed her. “The king is busy, that’s all. We had a lot to talk about this morning. But it does mean someone is needed to take the appearances, Your Highness, and as the king’s husband, that responsibility regretfully falls to...” She looked down her nose at me and sighed. “You.”
I snorted. “Fuck you too.”
“You can delegate such responsibilities, of course,” she continued smoothly as if I hadn’t said a word. That pretentious aura of hers probably filtered out all of my crassness. “All you have to do is show your face, let me take over, and then you can spend the rest of the day doing whatever it is you do.”
Smothering the urge to roll my eyes, I offered her a dutiful smile. “Yes, councillor. Anything you say, councillor. Whatever I can do to serve, councillor.”
She gave me a tight, barely tolerant grimace, and gestured for us to follow her to the throne room.
I was being such a good and obedient consort that I didn’t point out that a councillor never walks before their royal – as Ren would surely have reminded her – or make the snarky comments behind her back that I was itching to utter. So fucking obedient that I let the waiting servants place my crown on my head without a single complaint, and kept my polite smile in place all the way through my ascent up the throne room’s dais to the Quarehian throne itself. I gestured for the guards to open the main doors, remembering too late the dried juice stains on my shirt.
“Remember,” Morales whispered from where she was standing behind me in the position of advisor while over a hundred people flooded into the ornate, high-ceilinged room, “you just have to say that you’re appointing me to take the appearances. That’s all.”
“Lo siento,” I murmured back at her in apology. “Can you repeat that? I’m finding it difficult to remember such complex instructions.”
A sigh fluttered past my ear. “Appoint me to take the citizen appearances, Your Highness. ‘Welcome, all. I’m appointing Councillor Morales to take the appearances.’ Leave the room.¿Sí?”
I looked over at the people who had congregated before us. Nobles, landowners, soldiers, commoners. Some looked nervous; others eager, intrigued, or drained from their travels. All with pleas for their king.
“Welcome, all,” I said. I glanced at Morales before seating myself on Ren’s throne, gratified by her soft sigh. “Who’s first?”
*
Chapter Seven
One of the noblemen immediately pushed his way to the front of the crowd, his expression and garb full of self-importance. He gestured impatiently for the palace herald, Clementina, to introduce him.
