Page 57

57

Reyla

T he heavy doors to the throne room burst open. Lord Briscalar rushed inside, the lace on his wrists and collar fluttering and his polished shoes thumping on the carpeted aisle. Guards flanked him, their blades drawn and their faces grim as they scanned the area for threats.

Farris bounded over to the lord and danced around him, his tail spiraling and his happy yips echoing in the high ceiling room.

“Yes, yes, what a nice little nyxin.” The lord paused to gently stroke Farris’s head before continuing toward us with my pet scampering at his side.

“Your Highnesses,” he said, his gaze darting between us. “We heard a tremendous roar and shrieking and feared for your lives. What in the all the fates happened? ”

“The castle isn’t without its mysteries,” Lore drawled, exhaustion tightening his voice.

As his gaze took us in, Briscalar’s mouth pursed. “Whatever have you two been doing?” He plucked at a tear in my leather tunic and tutted about the dirt that must cover my hair and face before turning to give Lore the same thorough perusal.

“Oh, we were rolling around in the gardens,” I said.

Lore's lips twitched upward, and his arm tightened around the back of my waist.

“I beg forgiveness for entering the throne room despite your specific instructions, my king. My queen,” Briscalar said, his face darkening. “We thought… Well, it’s been three days, and we feared?—”

“Three days?” I barked. How was that possible?

Briscalar’s eyes widened. “Well, yes,” he said, swallowing hard.

Lore and I nearly collapsed against each other. Only two weeks and three days left.

Briscalar gestured toward the doorway. “Shall I escort you to your suite? I believe you two should…” He looked us over again and sighed.

“Yes, let's go to our rooms, love.” Lore kissed my temple. “You really are a dirty one, aren't you?” he whispered for my ears alone. “Perhaps I should clean you up.”

How could he joke at a time like this?

My skin tingled. I tried to tell myself that we should be on high alert, scrambling for ideas for how we’d find the other talismans. Not thinking of climbing between the sheets and all over each other. But we hadn't been together long.

I needed him in every way possible.

“I'll escort you.” Lord Briscalar nodded to the guards to accompany us.

They bustled around us as we made our way back through the winding halls and up the main staircase, Farris racing ahead before coming back to trot at our side.

“How are things going in the city?” Lore asked Briscalar when we reached the first landing.

“Very well, my king.” He paced beside us. “Homes are being constructed quickly, and food is pouring in from the outlying areas. We've already moved some families from nearby manors and into their new homes. As for the borgons, no one has seen them, not even the farmers living beyond the walls. It’s as if they melted back into their caves.”

“Let’s hope so,” Lore said.

Briscalar clasped his hands behind his back as he walked. “I sent riders to the farthermost eastern and western manors. They’ve returned with ample supplies. Wood, nails, blankets, even livestock. And with the bonds forged from your efforts prior to traveling to meet with our queen, the guilds from the city have rallied as well. Stoneworkers and carpenters have reshaped the outer walls where the borgons broke through, and much faster than we thought possible. If I do say so myself, their repairs have improved the structures. The borgons won't find it as easy to slip through our defenses the next time.”

Pray to the fates there wouldn't be a next time.

“Good.” I caught the flicker of approval in Lore’s eyes. “And the food stores?”

We continued down the hall toward our suite.

Briscalar nodded, his lips pursing in satisfaction. “The southern farms have promised monthly deliveries of grain and vegetables in exchange for exemptions in trade levies. I took a gamble involving their lords, and my king, that gamble has paid off.”

Lore's expression sharpened. “Explain the terms of this gamble. I want to understand exactly what we promised. What are we giving in exchange for their help?”

Briscalar’s posture tightened, his lace cuffs fluttering as he smoothed the ruffle at his throat. “The eastern high lords and ladies have long been grumbling about the tariffs placed on their grain. They claim that the levies disproportionately strain their workers and hinder trade with other regions. I assured them that with Evergorne in this state, the crown would reevaluate these taxes for the duration of the recovery efforts.”

Lore’s brow lifted. “Reevaluate doesn’t sound like an exemption.”

Briscalar’s lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke again. “True, Your Majesty. I said we’d reevaluate, but I also implied, without stating outright, that should they continue sending food and supply shipments without complaint, their tariff reductions could remain afterward. A long-term reward for their current generosity.”

“You gambled on their faith in our goodwill.” Lore’s tone didn’t betray much yet, though his eyes narrowed.

“Yes, sire, I did.” Briscalar met Lore’s gaze head-on. “I understand the risk, but these lords are pragmatic. They’ve seen your actions in the capital and heard about the sacrifices made here at Evergorne. They’re testing your resolve, yes, but also your generosity. Showing that this kingdom thrives on cooperation, not exploitation, strengthens your position overall.”

“If their expectations of permanent tariff exemptions grow, we’ll lose a substantial part of the income that sustains this court.” It was clear Lore was calculating every implication. He paused in the hall. “What’s your solution when they demand more than we can give?”

Briscalar’s jaw tightened before he answered. “I’ve proposed a rotating tax system. Lords who meet quotas for aid and supplies will see lower tariffs for a period of three years. This ensures fairness and prevents our court from bleeding resources from any particular estate indefinitely. Those who benefit now must reinvest in the future. By the end of the cycle, we’ll have reserves to stabilize Evergorne’s economy, plus the allegiance of lords who feel they’ve gained more than they’ve lost.”

His gaze darted between Lore and me as if he was trying to gauge our reaction. Lore’s eyes lingered on me. I knew what he was doing—seeking my insight. This wasn't the first time, and I knew it would not be the last.

“What do you think, love?” Lore’s voice slid through the space between us, the faintest hint of a challenge lurking beneath the surface. “Does Briscalar's plan hold weight?”

Briscalar sucked in a breath. I could practically feel his nervous energy flooding the hallway.

Farris bounded ahead, then turned, waiting for us to catch up.

I considered the details, sorting through the implications as I randomly brushed dirt off my tunic. “It’s clever.” I centered my gaze on the lord. “A rotating tax system will keep the crown’s demands from feeling like too much of a burden, but…” I glanced at Lore. “It does have risks.”

Briscalar’s mouth opened, but I held up a hand to stop him before he spoke.

“The problem is long-term loyalty,” I said. “You’re building trust between the crown and the high lords and ladies, but it relies on their belief that future rewards will outweigh the losses they’re taking now. If even one feels cheated, it could unravel what we’re trying to establish.”

Briscalar sent me an approving nod. “You're so right, my queen. That’s why I’ve ensured the terms are as explicit as possible without pinning us in a corner. These agreements?—”

“Have no real guarantee,” I said .

We continued walking, catching up to Farris, who licked my hand.

“It’s not your fault,” I added. “Trust in our court is fragile, and with good reason. Fairness isn't something these lords associate with Evergorne, at least not until this generation.” And Lore’s kindness. “I’m sure their grievances stem from generations of unchecked imbalance.” Such as his mother’s way of ruling this court.

Lore tilted his head, the quirk of one eyebrow showing his curiosity. “What’s your solution, Wildfire? How do we prevent their trust from fracturing while keeping Evergorne’s economy afloat?”

We stopped at the door to our suite, and our guards spread out to cover both directions.

“Let’s make the rotating tax system broader,” I said. “Tie it not only to temporary aid during the recovery but to long-term projects. You’ve already started allocating land to lessers, Lore, giving our people what they need to work and thrive without depending as heavily on the court’s generosity. Build on that. Start a framework where the high lords and ladies benefit directly from this success. For example, grant them incentives, like lower tariffs or trade privileges for investing in the lessers’ lands. Encourage them to fund infrastructure, provide better tools, or lend aid to manage harvests. When those lessers succeed, and I bet anything they will, everyone will profit. It turns goodwill into a shared interest.”

Briscalar’s eyes widened, his fingers twitching as though he was already asking his magical pen and paper to write the details down. “Such an intriguing proposition, my queen. Delightful, in fact. I don't know why I didn't think of it myself. It would ensure the lessers feel supported while tying the lords’ and ladies’ gain to the kingdom’s growth. But the question is whether the nobility will view such arrangements as worthy of their effort.”

“They will if they see results,” I said. Lore was grinning, his eyes sharp with pride I wasn't sure I deserved but I basked in anyway. “Their wealth grows alongside the stability of Evergorne itself, and stability is a currency they’ll want. They might not see it that way now, but when they’re faced with losing access to those incentives, they’ll leap over themselves to be a part of our plan.”

Lore crossed his arms, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe outside our suite. “It’s bold, but I can see the value. If they refuse to cooperate, they shut themselves out of future gains. But timing is critical. How do we ensure this plan doesn’t fall apart before it can take root?”

I tapped the toe of my boot on the floor, thinking. “Start small. Choose one or two high lords or ladies you suspect would be more excited about the idea, ones with ties to regions where the lessers’ work has already shown a return. Offer them very limited trial incentives, enough to make them curious but not so much that the others feel slighted. Once they discover the benefits and their peers see the results, the rest will follow. Greed can be as persuasive as loyalty when handled correctly.”

Briscalar nodded, his face glowing with enthusiasm. “A delightful prospect, indeed. My king, my queen, it could reshape the balance of power without creating outright rebellion. If we lead by example, show them it’s prosperity and not control we seek… Yes, I believe this will work quite well.”

We stepped inside the suite, and Faelith came rushing over. Farris hopped around her, his tail a whir. When she was able to latch onto him, she secured his leash to his collar. “I’ll take this fine fellow out for a stroll and then a nice warm bath, shall I?”

“Thank you,” I said .

She bobbed in a curtsy. “I’ll see to that in your old suite when we return.”

Moira and Calista waited nearby, and I’d have direction for them soon as well, once Lord Briscalar had left.

Faelith stepped out into the hall with Farris, and the door shut behind her.

Lore brushed his fingertips down my arm. “You have a knack for spinning sense out of impossible threads, love. Such an amazing idea.” His voice carried a fondness so deep it warmed me all the way to my bones.

“This is what you married me for, isn’t it?” I tilted my head toward him, giving him a smirk.

“Among other things.” His tone dropped, and his eyes lingered on mine.

I flushed under the heat of his smoldering gaze.

“And the people?” I asked Lord Briscalar, wanting to be alone with Lore but needing to make sure everyone else was settled first. “The villagers, those who were displaced, those mourning? How are they handling things?”

“Many remain with host families, Queen Reyla. None lack shelter, not while I have breath to see it done.” His shoulders loosened. “We’ve also expanded the kitchens, setting up cooking stations in some of the lesser-used dining rooms. Between those efforts and smaller houses banding together, no one has gone hungry. The funeral pyres have finished smoldering. We lost less than we thought, thankfully, due to those who drove the borgons past our city walls and the heroic efforts of our healers. Please consider sending them something to thank them.”

“Suggestions?” I asked.

Briscalar’s lips twitched, his gaze shifting upward as he thought. “A royal decree acknowledging their selfless service would be a start. Recognition from the crown carries weight, especially with healers who rarely receive such praise. Beyond that, perhaps additional supplies for their infirmaries. A shipment of rare herbs, fresh linens, or even funds to expand their facilities. It’s practical and honors their work. And for the guards? Perhaps increase their stipend.”

I nodded. “Make it happen. Send word to the guilds overseeing the trade routes. We’ll prioritize the healers’ needs. Our coffers can handle the increase for the guards?”

“Easily.”

“Then let’s do it.”

“I’ll see to it immediately, my queen,” he said.

“And the borgons?” Lore asked. “Have we discovered where they disappeared to?”

Briscalar hesitated, his face tightening. “Not so far. Per your order, patrols have been increased along the outer borders, but the scouts report nothing unusual. It’s as if they were magicked away.”

“I suspect Prager’s influence isn’t limited to Evergorne’s walls,” Lore said with a growl.

“If the borgons are tied to her, they’ll resurface when she does,” I said.

Lore slid his hand across the small of my back, and when he trailed his fingertips up and down my spine, I shivered. It was all I could do to pay attention to the conversation.

“Double the patrols near the forests and passes,” Lore said, clearly not as distracted as me. Such a tease. “Use our trackers sparingly; they can’t risk being lured into something they can’t fight their way back from.”

Briscalar nodded, his expression grim. “Yes, my king. I’ll ensure it's seen to at once.”

Lore’s jaw tightened, his gaze distant for a moment before he focused on me. “We’ll prepare for whatever she may throw our way next. ”

There was no need to voice it further. We both knew this reprieve, if it could even be called that, was temporary. Prager shrinking into silence only meant she was taking time to calculate her next move.

“To finish answering your question about our people,” Briscalar said to me, likely blocked from hearing anything related to Prager and the curse. “Vigils have been organized for those still grieving, and healers are making their rounds to tend to those with smaller wounds. It will take time for us to recover, of course, but our people are resilient. They won’t falter under your reign. They believe in you— both of you.”

Lore inclined his head. “Excellent. See that their needs remain a priority. We’ve asked more of our people than they should ever have to endure. If there’s any sign of unease, whether it’s hunger, discomfort, or even discontent, we must act right away.”

Briscalar clasped his hands below his chin. “Of course, Your Majesty. You have my word.”

“Which brings me to what I need from you next,” Lore said.

“I live to serve at your command,” Briscalar said in a humble tone that wasn't even a touch fake. We were fortunate to have him on our staff. Loyalty couldn't be bought, but this man gave it fully without expecting anything in return.

“Take my hand.” Lore stretched his out, and the lord did so without hesitation. Lore closed his eyes, and I felt a pulse of his magic slam into Briscalar, who shuddered but held Lore’s gaze, saying nothing. “Good,” Lore said as he released the lord’s hand. “Not him.”

Then who had tainted the Sentinel Veil?

“My queen and I must be away from the court for some time,” Lore said. “I'm leaving you here as regent.”

“Me?” Lord Briscalar gasped. “But?—”

“Talvon will help, as will my advisors. Before you accept, however, you need to know that someone tainted the Sentinel Veil.”

Lord Briscalar’s eyes widened. “I could never?—”

“It wasn’t you.”

The lord nodded slowly.

“As regent, you’ll need to discover who did while we’re gone, as well as handle anything that might come up here at the court. Do you feel able to handle this task, High Lord Briscalar? Know that you can refuse. I’d never force something like this on anyone.”

“If…” He shook his head and for the first time since I'd met him, he appeared flustered. The fact that he hesitated spoke well for him. A conniving person would latch onto this opportunity and use it to benefit himself. Not this man. He'd ensure everyone else was comfortable before seeing to his own needs. “I am greatly honored, my king. My queen.” He bowed deeply. “I will happily serve you in any way I can. Are you sure you wish for me to serve as regent?”

Lore grasped his shoulder and tightened his fingers. “There's no one else I trust more. If you agree, I’ll ensure the announcement is made before we leave.”

Lord Briscalar stiffened, only the shimmer of tears in his eyes giving away how stunned he was by the trust Lore was placing in his hands. “I will serve as regent with all my heart and strength.”

Lore braced the other man’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

“When do you plan to depart? I must see to the queen's things. Will you travel long? I have to ensure she has enough clothing and toiletries, plus staff to assist her during her?—”

“We're traveling alone.”

Briscalar's jaw dropped, and he said absolutely nothing, a first right there.

“I'm not sure how long we'll be gone,” Lore added. “As for when, we leave first thing in the morning. ”

I could tell by the twitch on his hand on my waist that he wanted to flit now. But we were exhausted. Covered in dirt and grime. We could take one night to bathe and rest.

“Very well, sire. My queen.” Briscalar's hands fluttered around his face. “I must make sure everything is ready. Are you sure there isn't anything I can do for you before you depart?”

“Not one thing.” Lore braced both of the lord's shoulders. “Thank you. We wouldn't be able to leave if we didn't trust you'd ensure everything went smoothly while we're gone.”

“You can rely on me, my king. I promise this with all my heart.” With that, the lord left, his footsteps sweeping down the hall in a flurry, his voice calling out orders with authority already.

“Good choice,” I said once the door had been closed behind us. I glanced toward Moira and Calista, who gaped at us, no doubt having listened in on the conversation. “We'd like a meal brought to the room. And Moira? Please draw a bath and lay out clean leathers for us both.” I unstrapped my blades and tossed them onto the sofa. “Please see these are cleaned immediately. Ensure they're returned to me in pristine condition and quickly. Leave them with the guards outside the door.”

“I'll go to the kitchen after starting your bath,” Moira said with a sparkle in her eyes.

Of course she would. She and the head chef were falling in love.

She rushed toward the bathing chamber.

“And I'll take your weapons to the guards with strict instructions,” Calista said. “Surely you'll take a few things with you? I fear you’ll need something, and it will be here, out of your reach.”

I met Lore's eyes. “A pack for each of us. I’ll use the one I brought with me. Only vital things. Any suggestions other than a few changes of clothing and extra throwing knives for me, Lore?”

He barked out a list, and I could see Calista taking notes in her mind. “We're traveling light. Dried provisions. A full flask of water in each pack.”

“I'll see to it immediately.” Calista dipped in a curtsy and hurried to the door.

“Leave them with the guards. The meal as well,” Lore called out to Calista. “My queen and I would like to be alone.”

“Very well,” she said as Moira hurried back into the sitting area. “We'll see you in the morning, then. Shall we bring breakfast?”

“At dawn,” I said. “Leave it with the guards.”

They sped out into the hallway, and Lore called Talvon and Surren inside where he explained that we were leaving, and that Lord Briscalar would be regent while we were away.

“I'll ensure the heralds announce the news.” Surren's gaze met mine. “Are you sure a few guards can't go with you? I worry, of course.”

“We have to travel alone,” Lore said.

This was our quest, and I suspected we’d need to complete it with no help from others.

They left and not long later, Faelith brought Farris back, his fur clean and groomed and his eyes sparkling with joy. He bounced around us, panting as she stepped out into the hallway. As the door closed, he scampered over to hop up onto the sofa, curling on the cushion in front of the fire.

Lore flicked his hand toward the outer door and the lock snicked closed.

Then he advanced on me with a sultry smile. “Alone at last, my pretty little bride.”