The carriage pulled up to the palace gates, and Iona awoke from a fitful sleep to see Leo and Heston waiting at the front. The coachman opened the door, and Desmond hopped out, turning to assist Iona down from her seat. She saw Leo hurry forward from the window, and all but shove Dez out of the way, who shrugged his shoulders and walked to greet Heston.
In spite of his anger, Leo cared to make sure she was okay- but that would fade, she reminded herself. Taking his hand, Iona labored down the steps of the carriage, but a sharp pain came from her side at the movement, followed by a grunt of distress. Leo swept her up right away, his arms hooked under her legs and back, gentle enough to prevent further pains.
“You don’t have to carry me,” Iona insisted, though she was much more comfortable this way. Leo was unresponsive, not even sparing a glance at her. The familiar dampness of the stone halls and dim lanterns were both welcoming and cheerless, the sweet smell of Leo making her chest flutter and stomach turn. In silence, they reached her bedroom, which had clearly been prepared for her return with fresh linens, another bouquet of moon drops on the nightstand, and her desk tidied. Why must he be so thoughtful?
Leo laid Iona on the bed, and turned to leave, stopping just short of the door. “Rest as long as you need, I’ll have Poppy send up food. My father is ready for your visit when you are.” With that, he pulled the door close behind him, and Iona was alone once more. She tried closing her eyes, but tossed and turned, her thoughts bouncing from Leo to the King’s passing to her future at the palace in circles. Finally, she gave up hope of sleeping and slowly readied herself to say goodbye to Theron. Poppy had indeed left a tray at the door, piled with bread, cheese, and meat. Iona nibbled on a bit of everything before heading to Theron’s chambers.
She breathed a sad sigh at the door, preparing for what awaited her on the other side. Iona hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Elia or to her father, so she was grateful for the chance to see Theron one last time. It would be difficult in a different way- the knowledge that she would never speak to him again, hear his thunderous laugh, see him atop the throne. The King’s time had come, and though he had accepted it with grace, she wasn’t ready. Not really.
Iona entered the room and passed through the seating area to his bed. Heston and Leo sat on either side of him, but arose as she walked up. “He’s not very responsive,” Heston explained, “But the doctor said he can still hear us. We’ll give you some time.” She looked to Leo with tears already building, but he kept his eyes to the floor. Heston squeezed her arm as he left with his brother. The room was bright, and a soothing draft flowed in from the window. Only a week had passed since she last sat in this chair by Theron’s side, since he read her old letters and shared his readiness for the next life.
The Commander took her King’s hand, slack but still warm, and broke into tears. “I’m not quite sure what to say, your majesty. I don’t know what this place will be like without you,” she began. For all the wear on his skin and the exhaustion with which he’d contended for so long, he looked like he was finally at peace.
Iona pressed her lips together, sobs filling her throat. With a deep breath, her thoughts spilled forth, “I just want to say thank you. For seeing something in me, for giving me a chance. For trusting me. And I am so angry with myself for not telling you this sooner, so I really hope that doctor knows what she was talking about and you can hear me. But I need you to know that I love your son. I love him so much. And I heard you that night, when you told him about my offer to switch places. You said we had a lot to learn from each other, and you were so right. He’s taught me about strength and love and kindness in ways I never imagined. And I swear to you that even if we can’t be together, I will always take care of him. Just like you asked.”
Maybe she imagined it, but Theron’s hand seemed to tighten around hers. “I will miss you,” she whispered. Iona sat with him for another few minutes, appreciative of their final moments together. She stood and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, “Goodbye, your majesty.”
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A guard notified Iona in the evening that King Theron passed with his sons by his side. She nodded at the news, and solemnly changed into her formal uniform for the burial. The palace was quiet as she pulled together a group of guards directed to send out word to the King’s advisors and allies. Thousands of lanterns would be sent up in Theron’s honor tonight, all over Chrysos. She led another set of guards to the throne room where Theron’s body had been laid, and gave the orders for him to be moved out to the burial ground.
Only the sounds of muted weeping broke through the somber quiet as Leo and Heston walked on either side of their father, Iona following behind. Speckles of lantern light had already become visible from the capital city, adding warm stars to the night sky. Heston gave the traditional parting speech as Theron was buried, and Leo and Iona each took a turn offering personal prayers to the North Forest on his behalf. They stood in silence until the ground had been filled and the King’s headstone had been lifted. Though Iona mourned, she imagined Theron greeting Elia somewhere deep in the Forest, father and daughter reunited once more, and the thought filled her with comfort.
They all said goodnight to one another, but something felt wrong about returning to her room. Iona perched on the edge of her bed, torn between climbing in for the night or checking on Leo. She knew he would be struggling, but what if her presence only made things worse? Iona pressed her hands to her temple, back and forth, until it was clear she wouldn’t be able to rest without knowing if Leo was okay. Changing out of her uniform, she splashed her face with some cold water, pulled on a sleep shirt and her green robe, and crept two doors down the hall. Should she knock? Or just walk in, like she normally did? But things were different now…Stop stalling, just do it.
Iona turned the knob and slowly poked her head into the room, greeted by pitch black. “Leo?” she whispered, hearing some sniffling coming from his bed. She pattered over to her usual side, and slid under the sheets. Leo rolled towards her, and she wrapped him up in her arms, laying her head on his. They laid together, wordless in the dark, as Iona felt Leo’s body relax and his cries fade until they’d both found sleep.
In the morning, Iona glanced around the room to see it was empty. She was relieved knowing she had some time to gather her thoughts before she spoke with Leo again. Assuming he was in his father’s office, she grabbed some coffee for the both of them and made her way down to the east wing. All the while she replayed her argument in her head. I must do my duty as commander and begin the search for your wife, as your father requested. I must do my duty…as much as it pains me…as much as I hate it. She shook her head, No that’s not it, c’mon Iona.
His door was open, so Iona strutted right in and set his mug down as casually as possible. His head was buried in piles of parchment. “Brought you coffee,” she announced.
“Oh,” he sputtered, “Iona, hi, thanks. I needed this.” He took a swig, and she noticed his cheeks had flushed slightly. “Congratulations, by the way. On the encampment raid. Are you healing well?”
Even in his clipped conversation, there was a distinct longing to his voice, and Iona wanted so badly to tell him she longed for him, too. But that’s not why she was there. She was there to do her job. “Very well, thank you,” she replied. “I know that this wasn’t what either of us had in mind, but I must do my duty as your commander-”
“-Iona,” he cut in, with a raised hand, but she forged ahead. If she stopped talking, she feared she’d never be able to get the words out again.
“As your commander, I will begin compiling options for you-”
“Iona, stop.”
“-For you to consider-”
“Stop!”
“-For your wife!”
Leo’s nostrils flared, “I don’t WANT options, Iona!” Their shouts had grown to fill the room, radiating hurt.
Iona swallowed, meek in this argument she didn’t want to have. “I promised your father-”
“-My father is gone. And like you said, you are my commander, now,” he grimaced, “And I do not want to speak of this again. If you have no other business, then you’re dismissed.” The glare between the two of them could have burst into flames. Iona ran her tongue over her teeth, suppressing the urge to continue fighting. Instead, she responded with an excessively deep bow and marched out of the room.