King Emery Blacktree’s spinning head made it feel like he was almost levitating as he entered the guest chambers with his wife, Sirillia. It had been a long night of festivities, celebrating his daughter’s marriage to the Seynard prince.

His thighs were sore from dancing. His throat ached from talking. His head was pounding from thinking. And the wine hadn’t helped one bit.

Emery held the door open for Sirillia to enter before him. He faced Ser Yelin Mortimer and the other royal guards who had escorted them to their quarters at the end of the evening.

“That will be all for tonight,” Emery said.

The guards in black and silver armour bowed to their king respectfully.

“I will have someone watch your door, my king,” Yelin said.

“Oh, nonsense. That won’t be necessary.”

Yelin tilted his head in confusion. “My king?”

“We are probably safer here in Caldaea than we are back home,” Emery said. “The Seynards probably have plenty of guards roaming the Chateau at night.”

Ser Yelin was insistent. “My king, it is my job to keep you safe-”

“And to follow my orders,” Emery said in a light-hearted tone. “Relax, Yelin. Have a night off. Go have a drink and find a pretty eastern girl to dance with.”

Emery patted the man on his plated shoulder with a smirk.

“It would make me feel a whole lot more relaxed if I knew that someone I trusted was guarding your door, my king,” Yelin chuckled.

Emery huffed. “Alright, if you insist. Have one of your men stationed out here, if it makes you feel better.”

“Thank you, my king,” Yelin said with a bow. “I will have Davyd on first watch.”

“Have yourself a good night, Yelin.”

“And you, my king. Creator’s grace.”

The opulence of their room was astounding. Moonlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The canopy bed looked rather old, with beautiful patterns engraved in the headboard and spear symbols decorating the posts. Enormous ceramic planters adorned the corners of the rooms, spilling over with well-watered, lush foliage and flowers.

Sirillia was seated comfortably on the upholstered couch, picking at a platter of sweet fruits and cheeses on the knee-high ornate table before her.

Emery noticed that the candlelight made her skin look a far healthier colour than how it usually appeared.

He sat beside Sirillia, taking off his crown and placing it carefully on the table. Each time he did that, it felt like a huge weight off his shoulders.

Emery ran his fingers up his wife’s bony arm. Her gaze was elsewhere. He could see in her eyes that she was trying to get her mind off something.

Probably worried for Ciana. Emery had to admit, he did not like the idea of his daughter locked in a room with Prince Wesley for the night, but it was tradition.

He had no say in the matter.

“Would you like me to run you a bath?” Emery asked.

“How can you act so… so…” Sirillia began, brushing his hand away.

“So relaxed?”

She nodded. “Are you not anxious at all?”

“Of course, I am, dear. But I do not let it take hold of me.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Emery poured a cup of water for Sirillia. He took out a vial of clear liquid he’d been given from one of the Seynards’ best apothecaries and added a few drops into the water to help her sleep. He handed her the cup.

“It’s fine, I’m not thirsty.”

“Drink,” Emery whispered, pushing her hands gently towards her mouth. “It will help. I want you feeling well-rested.”

Sirillia took a sip of the refreshing water, moistening her cracked lips.

“We should be proud of our daughter. Today she has become a true woman. She will be queen of Caldaea,” Emery said.

Sirillia took another mouthful of water as the king continued.

“This marriage is more than just a marriage. It sets Ciana up for a bright future. With this wedding, we will finally see piece between our kingdoms. She will help link our two powerful families together in harmony. She will live in a grand castle by the sea on the west coast, surrounded by fertile lands and sun-swept vistas…”

Sirillia placed the empty goblet on the table. Some life had returned to her cheeks. “She is so young.”

Emery exhaled. “We must be grateful that our family has the option available to marry her to someone near her own age, Sirillia! Baron Ryle was fifty years older than his wife when they were wed!”

Sirillia shook her head with worry. “What about all the rumours of Tobius and his late wife?”

“We must not let rumour dictate our actions.”

Emery did not let Sirillia see it, but in all honesty, he did hold some worry about the late Queen Alina, who had passed ten years earlier.

Emery had heard from multiple sources that Tobius was a wife-beater, and that her death may not have been accidental. Some even claimed that their son, Wesley, was witness to his violence.

Yet, Emery’s spies and informants could never validate the rumours. He chalked it up as propaganda and exaggeration.

“I worry Ciana’s new husband may end up like his father,” Sirillia said.

“Queen Alina was a good woman. She was kind and gentle. I’m sure some of that must have rubbed off on the boy.”

“You’re right. I know you are right. Alas, I still feel the way I feel.” Sirillia said.

“That is because you are a loving mother with a kind soul, and you want what is best for your babies.”

Sirillia met Emery’s gaze. “Is this what is best for her?”

Her question was met with a long pause, as Emery compiled a response. He did not want to lie, but he did not want his wife anguishing any further.

“This is what is best,” Emery said.

“At least with Petir we knew what we were getting into with Jodie. The Mannerings were always friends with Ashen.”

“How are we to make new friends, my love? Offering Ciana’s hand in marriage is the most powerful symbol we could have offered to Tobius Seynard.”

“Our first-born girl-”

“Has brought peace to a long period of conflict and tension. Peace is the way of the future, to stabilise our foothold over Ashen, the strengthen our economy, our diplomatic relations, and our people’s way of life.”

“At the expense of our daughter’s happiness, and potentially her wellbeing?” Sirillia rebutted.

Emery could only shake his head and shrug his shoulders. “Would you prefer we left our children with a kingdom torn apart by war?”

Emery could not predict the future, and he had made all the arguments he could possibly think of to try and lessen the burden of fear his wife was suffering with.

Emery trusted within himself that he had made the right decision for Ciana and for his people.

Sirillia stood up and gracefully walked over to the lit fireplace. She grabbed a fire poker and began stoking the flames, kneeling before the magnificent structure. Her eyes stared into the dancing flames.

The fire crackled as it was poked.

Emery could not decipher whether Sirillia truly believed him or not.

“I’m sure you will forget about all of this by tomorrow when you see how happy Ciana is at the Uniting Tourney,” Emery said. “Competitions, races, feasts, music, drinking, dancing. Nobody throws a celebration like the Seynards do.”

Emery went to pour himself another glass of wine, despite his pounding headache.

“Uh-uh, I think you’ve had quite enough already,” Sirillia said.

Emery nearly spat out the sip he had taken as he laughed. “You dare tell a king what he can and cannot do?”

“Lest I need to endure another one of your passionate political conversations like the one you already had with Tobius Seynard,” Sirillia joked.

“That man is as tolerable as he is intelligent,” Emery said. “I sometimes feel I’d have more luck striking diplomacy with a privy.”

Sirillia could not help but smirk as she sat back down. “You insult a family in their own castle?”

Emery leaned in and kissed his wife softly on the lips. “Oh? And what do you have to say about it?”

Sirillia returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around him and running her hands through his silky black hair. Emery felt her small, frail body relax as he took her in his arms, refusing to end the long kiss first.

Despite her sudden ageing and sickliness of late, Emery could still see past the outer façade at the beauty he had fallen in love with so many years ago.

Sirillia pushed Emery back, licking her lips. “Perhaps Wesley will prove a more exceptional king one day than his father.”

Emery sipped his wine. “I pray to the Creator for such a blessing.”

So many years of turmoil had gone by that, truth be told, Emery had never expected a peaceful conclusion with Tobius Seynard and the border wars.

“Tomorrow we will celebrate new beginnings for our families and our kingdoms,” Sirillia said.

Her face seemed less tense; Emery’s attempts to distract her must have been working.

Emery nodded, kissing his wife’s forehead. “Come, my love. I will run you that bath, and we will spend the rest of our evening taking our mind off politics.”

“If only for one night,” Sirillia smirked.

“I will take all I can get.”