Page 11

Chapter 8 ~ Shifting Plans

Dàibhid

I sat on the raised dais at the front of the throne room, trying to console the fifth citizen at the petition session to ask me about the Exiles. Only one was angry; the others were scared more than anything, and I couldn’t blame them.

The woman standing before me had talked herself to tears. It was hard staying seated as she wiped away the worst of it, the thin cushion turning hard and unforgiving under me, and I fought the urge to reach out to her. Petitions had always been part of the job I’d excelled at, but lately, they’d been more emotionally taxing on all of us.

“We’re so afraid our shop is next, you see,” she said once she’d gotten her voice back. “They started with the biggest, but who’s to say they won’t go for the smaller ones too?”

Her family’s shop, a specialized apothecary, was on the other side of the square from where The Crown had stood. Her fears were understandable. No one knew when rebels or Exiles would hit. No one knew where. She was so scared that she trembled.

She wasn’t the only one.

The rebel who’d run from my guards hadn’t been caught. What she might do to wreak further havoc on my people had plagued me for days. What if she’d set the blaze? What if I’d failed to stop her? What if it was all my fault?

“I understand,” I said, pushing down my guilt and worry. The sellswords were out gathering information that would hopefully help this woman and others like her, but I couldn’t tell her that without blowing the cover I wanted them to keep.

But I could tell her something vague to appease us both. “I know it might not look like I’m doing much right now.” Cianán subtly shook his head, standing silently in a scholarly robe at the side of the room. I ignored him. He’d advise I shouldn’t hint at anything without being able to give the people something concrete. But I couldn’t do that, not now. “But I promise you, I am doing everything in my power to ensure it doesn’t happen again. I don’t want to see any more families put out.”

Like the Leancormacs, now living out of someone else’s home while theirs stood in heaps of burned timber with their bakery. Like the farmers who had to rely on hospitality while their homes were rebuilt.

I hadn’t visited The Crown yet. The city center was apparently full to the brim with people helping, even with plenty staying home out of understandable fear. But Liam once again wanted me to wait before visiting. At least a week , he’d said. I hated that I’d consented.

I pressed my toes into the soles of my shoes to keep focused.

The petitioner nodded, but her eyes didn’t meet mine. “I know, Your Majesty.”

I stood and walked over to her. I waited until she looked at me, her eyes a pretty shade of green that reminded me of my mother’s. “I promise. I’m doing everything I can.”

Fresh tears sprang up, and she nodded more vigorously. I think she would have spoken, but the tears prevented it. I had to turn back to my throne before my own vision could cloud. A guard guided her away, and the next petitioner—one of the farmers—stepped forward, asking for more seed, as more had been raided than initially calculated. I had my scribe mark down the request alongside the others he’d already recorded. The list loomed over me, a reminder of the failings I’d had the last few weeks and a motivator to do better.

By the time petitions were over, all I wanted to do was sprawl on the couch in my study. Perhaps my bed to sleep off the exhaustion. But there was work to do that I couldn’t put off. So instead, I moved to the office behind the throne room, three floors under those comfortable options where I’d generally do my work, removed my crown, and took a seat behind the solid oak desk. I sifted through the notes my scribe had made, requests for funding, for protection, for wood and grain and horses. Most of these people I could simply put in contact with someone, a farmer in a different part of the country, perhaps. As for the protection, I’d speak to the head of our city guard, Commander Ruairi Lochlin. See if patrols could be increased. I wasn’t sure we had the numbers for it, but it was worth looking into, if only for people’s peace of mind.

I snatched up the letter I’d received the previous morning.

Farmer’s boy,

The loss of The Crown is a shame. I am sorry I had to resort to such measures, but my people can no longer be denied what should have rightfully been theirs for generations. A mighty lineage deserves a mighty throne, not a boy with a passive streak. Cunlaran was meant for greatness. Do you not wish for this country to be great?

Balor

It had arrived with a basket of muffins. Like some sick joke.

I’d written him, given him peaceful options. But in attacking The Crown, he’d chosen destruction again. I might have felt like I was failing my people, but handing the throne over to someone who so callously ordered the suffering of the very people he claimed he deserved to rule was the last thing I was going to do.

But I had to admit, some dark, terrified part of me wondered if things would indeed be better if I surrendered.

Upon reading the letter himself, Cianán had suggested that route. It wasn’t like he wanted me to surrender, but as my advisor, it was his duty to remind me of all options. He told me that if surrender would be the only way to stop the violence, it had to be considered. But the second the suggestion had left his mouth, an uncertain frown gave away his true feelings.

Five customers had died when The Crown burned. Three city guards followed after inhaling too much smoke.

One of the customers had been a child. Six years old. I’d upheaved what little food I had in my stomach after walking away from that debriefing.

If I surrendered, there was a chance no more children would die.

But there was just as much a chance that more would if Balor took the throne. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t keep turning that violence against my people even if he wore my crown.

That circling was all I’d done since getting that damn letter. Between that exhaustion and the exhaustion from petitions, it was an effort to keep my eyes open, especially once evening hours rolled around. I put my head on my hands, elbows on the desk, and breathed, listening. It was drizzling again, the soft patter tapping the windows. Thick clouds turned the room murky. Perhaps another candle was due.

Just as the flame sprung to life, a knock sounded on the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Thomas.

I flung the door open. No one stood with him. His red flush and labored breathing made it seem like he’d rushed here. Which meant he’d come as a runner. Which meant something bad had happened. My palms grew clammy as I imagined the worst.

“Where are the others?” Don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be dead .

He stepped inside, and I shut the door. He slumped into a chair. “Just outside the Keep. They’re fine—or, they will be.”

They were alive. Thank gods. Except— “What do you mean, will be?”

“We were attacked. Rebels.” I noted a cut along his arm. “One of them recognized me as a royal guard. They came after us while we slept. Maya’s the only one who was seriously injured.”

I gripped the back of the nearest chair until my knuckles were white.

He leaned forward, placating. “She’ll be fine. She just needs rest. They’re all staying with a couple of farmers until I return.”

She might be fine eventually, but what pain was she in now? And what if things had gone differently? Visions of all of them dying hit me again with such force I had to sit.

“That’s not the reason I came back, though,” Thomas said. I motioned for him to go on, dread still churning my gut and turning my fingers cold.

Thomas explained what the farmers had told them, and what Rígan proposed. My foot tapped anxiously into the carpet.

“While we don’t know why the Keep closed its gates, I’d say we need to err on the side of caution. I can’t send any of you inside,” I said. Dejection coursed through me—this mission had been so promising. But lifeless eyes invaded my mind, flipping between the sellswords, Thomas, and people they could be hired to kill. I’d sent them there to gather information, not take on rebel work. True, nothing might come of it, and that disappointment might linger a while, but working for a rebel for three weeks and then abandoning their post wouldn’t go over well. The sellswords could be followed back here, they could be coerced into staying there, they could be hurt. None of that was acceptable. Better to stay out of the Keep than go in.

“And Rígan’s idea to remain with the farmers?” Thomas asked.

I chewed my lip. I understood why she’d want to. It might give them, give me, something to work with, ease that dejection they were possibly feeling, too. And it would offer the farmers protection. Wasn’t I trying to do that for those who were scared here? But Thomas’s point that it could endanger the farmers was too strong. That, and there was no guarantee the Keep’s gates would open for another market day anytime soon.

Plus, three sellswords and one guard against countless enemies now felt too risky. With a mission like this, taking the turn that it had, four wouldn’t be enough. And if Thomas had to leave again, that would only leave three. Even four permanent sellswords would have been better than that. I hadn’t wanted them to go without a runner—I’d never done something like this, and we’d never worked together—but now that idea seemed shortsighted, too.

I pulled my hair, nails racking my scalp. Who knew what was happening behind those gates. Sending them into the Keep, with small numbers and an injured Maya, wasn’t going to happen, and keeping them with the farmers was no better option. But I still needed to know what was happening in the Keep. A quill on the table caught my attention. I could write to Lord Ríos. Whether he would write the truth back was unclear, but it was something. Surely I could get one letter inside.

As for the sellswords . . . My gut, not just my fears, told me to bring them back to Bailanín, end this mission. I still needed their help, though. I couldn’t abandon the hunt for information.

I’d have to request their continued support, prolong the assignment. Perhaps indefinitely, if other missions went sideways like this one had. Keep them on until we got good information, no matter how many missions I had to send them on. But I needed to find them more help first. Provide them more safety, more backup. Still, while the thought of endangering them was hard enough, the thought of endangering even more lives dug the hurt in deeper.

I glanced at a map on my desk. Right at the Stone Fortress, where my sister was stationed, the commander of that garrison. She wasn’t due to return to the capital yet, but she was someone I could trust with this information. Someone I could get an opinion from, as a sister, a commander, and a princess. She had always been more at ease making the decisions that tied my stomach in a knot. She could advise me best on this matter.

She could also be another member of the team.

I hated the thought, didn’t want to risk her life any more than the others, but she was a commander in my army. She took these risks willingly, just like the sellswords. And once she knew what was going on, I doubted I’d even have to ask. She’d volunteer. And perhaps she’d know someone else to tack on to the team.

“It’s too dangerous to keep the sellswords where they are, especially without more backup. You did a good job, Thomas, but I need you primarily as a royal guard. We need more hired aid before I send them out again. Somewhere other than the Keep, at least for now. Can Maya travel back?”

“If she actually listens to us this time, she should be fine.”

“Good. It’s safer for everyone if they’re back here. Rest the night and leave first thing in the morning.”

“Of course.” He stood to bow, but stopped. Even though we’d only been friends for the last few years, I’d known him for ten, since he’d joined the royal guard when he was eighteen. I knew the look he gave me.

“This wasn’t your fault, Dàibhid. You know that, right?”

My ears rang. He still didn’t know about The Crown.

“The Crown burned. Eight died. One child.”

He pinched in his lips, pain striking his features. “That wasn’t your fault, either.”

I stared at my crown in its box, trying to draw strength from it the way my parents had before me. My father had told me to look at it whenever I felt I wasn’t doing enough. He said it reminded him that he had a lot of responsibility, and that he was capable of it. That people saw that crown and saw hope.

All I felt was heavy.

“Thank you, Thomas,” I said thickly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make haste.”

I sent letters to Lord Ríos and my sister the next morning, and the sellswords returned three days after that.

I waited by the kitchen entrance, where the sellswords and Thomas would come in. The moment they came into view, some of the tightness in my shoulders melted, and I dismissed the guard I’d been speaking to as the four of them maneuvered into the warm, fragrant space. A cart with plenty of pillows and blankets disappeared around the corner. At least they’d made Maya comfortable.

Maya hobbled as she walked, favoring her left side. Her arm was threaded through Rígan’s while Lou carried all their packs. I scanned each of them for additional injuries, finding nothing worse than scratches and an evident need to bathe. Rígan’s gaze lifted at my approach before settling away, her jaw hardening in frustration, though it was unclear if it was directed at me. I wouldn’t have blamed her. She’d wanted to stay, and I’d forced her back. Not to mention I’d sent them somewhere that almost proved deadly for Maya. It was entirely possible Rígan regretted taking this position for either reason. Or both. I made myself stop staring at her harsh features before the guilt could increase.

I motioned for Thomas to head for the guard’s quarters. Liam was waiting for him there.

“How are you feeling?” I asked Maya, the cause of my guilt shifting. “I hope the journey wasn’t too taxing on your side.”

She waved her free arm, brushing aside my concern. “A few days ago it might have been. But it was much better by the time Thomas returned for us.”

“Though it’s still not in the best shape,” Lou added. “We did what we could, but it hasn’t been looked at by a physician yet.”

“We can arrange that.” My personal physician lived in Bailanín; she could look at it. “I’m sorry Thomas was recognized.”

“It’s fine,” Maya said. “Risk comes with the job.”

“Would you like a report?” Rígan asked, expression shifting from annoyed to professional.

“I’m sure Thomas told me everything. Though I do wish to speak to all of you. Perhaps in my apartments?”

I led them toward the main stairwell. Before they’d arrived, I’d come to terms with the realization that my staff would take note of the sellswords’ presence sooner or later. And if everything went according to plan and they accepted my new proposal, the three of them would be seen around here all the time. My staff were loyal. What with the Exile threat, I doubted word of the sellswords’ presence would get far any time soon—the staff would figure out they were for everyone’s safety, and that if I wasn’t saying anything, they shouldn’t, either. As long as Rígan, Maya, and Lou’s identities didn’t leave the castle, as long as their duties were kept secret, there wasn’t much point to hiding them within these walls.

I hesitated at the first step up. This would be no easy task with an injury. “Maya, if you’d prefer, we can find somewhere on this floor, perhaps in my physician’s rooms.”

“Thank you for the offer, Your Majesty, but I’ll make do.”

Rígan pinched her nose. Lou frowned. This must have been an ongoing battle between them and Maya—practicality against stubbornness. I wasn’t about to get in the middle.

I took the first stair. “If you say so.”

Making our way to the third and highest floor was slow going, Maya doing her best not to wince with every step. But each one she took was punctuated by a painful echo, a rhythm out of joint.

When her foot hit the third-floor landing, she swayed, Rígan’s grip breaking. Maya’s hands flung out, and both Rígan and I reached for her at the same time, instinctually grabbing each other’s arms for balance. Rígan dropped her hold on me, like she’d been jabbed with a shard of ice. A twinge of unease wrung my gut. Perhaps she really was angry she took the job. Angry at me. She didn’t look angry now, but her neutral expression somehow seemed forced. Like there was a strain around the edges.

“I’m fine,” Maya said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know about that,” Lou said. “You can barely stay upright.”

“It’s as though blood loss will do that to a person,” Rígan said, grip firm on Maya’s waist.

“Very funny.” Maya wobbled. “Perhaps I should lie down, after all.”

I called Mildred, one of the staff, over from down the hall. “Please bring Miss Ekundayo to the rooms you cleaned earlier. Maya, I’ll get my physician to you right away. She’ll look after you.”

“I can fetch her,” Lou said. Rígan’s attention snapped to them. “I can explain the injury to her on the way.”

I gave them instructions on where to find the physicians’ rooms and where to meet us after.

That left me alone with Rígan.

She flexed her hands as though unsure what to do with them now that she wasn’t holding Maya. Lou had left the packs by her feet, and she hastily bent to grab them.

“Here.” I shouldered two for her. My back flexed under the sudden pressure.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She shifted her pack to her other shoulder, fiddling with the straps and still not looking at me. “You should really install a lift.”

I jolted, realizing I’d been focused rather intently on her hands. While the calloused fingers and palms were those of a warrior, the backs looked soft. A few silver scars peppered them, small enough that they’d likely been from knicks. Her fingers danced over the straps, graceful. I wondered if she could play an instrument with those fingers. “Pardon?”

“A lift. You know, a platform with pulleys for people who can’t do stairs. It would have helped Maya. Probably others who haven’t spoken up before, too.”

I blinked, caught off guard. She was right. “I’ll look into getting one installed.”

She finally looked at me. Her jaw was still set despite the dip of her chin. I turned aside. She wouldn’t want extra attention from me right now.

I led Rígan to the left, making for the guarded double doors at the end of the hall. Inside were the royal apartments: my and Brí’s bedrooms, what used to be our parents’ room, bathing chambers, a few more unused bedrooms, a study, and a sitting room. A couple staff were finishing their cleaning in the sitting room, bowing and curtsying while eyeing Rígan.

I ushered her into the study, where a fire had been lit for the evening, the pops and crackles of the wood reverberating off the stone walls. The carpet underfoot hushed our steps.

When I motioned for her to sit on the couch beside my chair, Rígan set herself on the edge and stared straight ahead.

“You’re allowed to relax, you know,” I said lightly. Her fingers tightened on her knee, and I chastised myself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t joke.”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“I don’t like to do things that are improper just because I’m a king. I know some do, but I won’t.”

The hard edge of her jaw softened, the skin around her cheekbones settling into its natural place. Her cheeks weren’t full, but they were smoother, rounder than they’d been a moment before. As though her teeth had been clenched so hard she’d given herself defined cheekbones. The corners of her mouth twitched and her eyes shone, the flicker of flames turning streaks of brown iris to stunning gold. “I’m happy to hear that. But I meant, why do you feel this is an inappropriate time to joke?”

“Maya was injured. The mission I sent you on failed. I didn’t choose your suggestions for moving forward.”

I thought I’d said it levelly, logically, but her expression softened further, the smile coming out a bit stronger. Then it was gone. Not replaced with something hard, just something less. “Maya was joking throughout the entire ordeal, including five minutes after being stabbed. Missions are known to fail. And I knew there was a chance you wouldn’t go with either of my ideas. This time has been hard, yes, but it’s not your doing.”

She busied herself with a speck of dust on her leg while my jaw dropped. Had she just comforted me?

“Perhaps,” I said, barely believing the word. “But surely you aren’t pleased.”

I wasn’t sure why I pushed the matter. I’d never been alone with her before, never talked to her one-on-one, but in the few minutes I had, I found it remarkably easy to talk to her. Found myself wanting to hear her thoughts, even if I thought—had thought—that she was upset with me. The joke I’d made had come unbidden, natural. As had my last statement. I knew that given my position, I should be careful. But something about her made me want to place careful on the shelf.

I also seemed to need more validation. The woman’s tears from the petitions the other day still haunted me, and the phantom smell of smoke from burning buildings clung to my pores.

Rígan’s first words came slowly. “It didn’t happen as I’d hoped, no. This sort of assignment—” She cut herself off and started again. “So much good could have come from it. I’m sorry we couldn’t get what you need.”

Her forehead was creased. Pained. I’d known she wanted to help the people, wanted to do what she could to prevent more bloodshed. We were both disappointed in the results. Devastated, even. I’d had such high hopes the mission was going to work, that we could get something from it. At least more than an updated report on the Keep from the outside. It had been my mission to lead, and it hadn’t worked. It felt like I had failed, no matter what she said.

But from the look on her face, she felt the same way about herself. And I couldn’t have that.

“Well,” I said, “if it’s not my fault, it’s not yours, either.”

She swallowed audibly, turning away. But my words seemed to do the trick. She leaned into the couch as exhaustion crept into her features. I found my gaze lingering on her once again, more confident with her turned away and the absence of tension between us.

She was captivating. Her hair was long, evident even in a ponytail, and in the stream of evening sunlight, it reminded me of deep, vibrant red leaves in autumn. And in the short time I’d known her, her energy was always up, alive, a constant spark about her, like a cat determining its next move.

I held back a chuckle, a swell of nostalgia cresting. I’d known someone like her when I was young. A friend I’d cared about deeply, and one I’d regretfully parted poorly with. Looking at Rígan might have been intoxicating, but the jab through my lungs undercut it all, pecking at the wound that had closed but never fully healed.

I’d tried writing to Nina many times, but every letter had gone unanswered. I didn’t even know if she’d received them. Sometimes I still had the urge to write to her, tell her all the thoughts swirling through my head. She’d always managed to make me feel more confident. Some days I needed that boost.

I’d had that impulse after The Crown burned, to write to her again. But the quill hadn’t even made it to the parchment. Whether or not I ever reached out to Nina, I might need to write to her father, King Wilhelm, when we knew more about the Exiles. Fenwald wasn’t impacted by them as far as I knew, but given we were close allies and Balor was likely to hate Fenwald for turning away his ancestors almost as much as Cunlaran for throwing them out, it was the least I could do to inform King Wilhelm of the issue.

The clearing of a throat made me snap out of my thoughts. Rígan raised a brow in question, and I realized, for the second time that evening, that I’d been staring at her the entire time. Those eyes twinkled again, mischievous and curious. Her hair fell over her shoulder, and I planted my hand on my thigh to remind myself I couldn’t touch it.

I had to say something.

“Thomas informed me of the attack and what you learned from the farmers.”

“We didn’t get much beyond that,” Rígan said, settling back again. “It just became more evident that they’re frightened of being so close to the Keep the longer we stayed there. And the next market day has been canceled. The farmers are preparing to sell goods on their own farms rather than in stalls.”

“Why haven’t they come to petition me about their situation?” But I already knew the answer—if they were afraid, they wouldn’t risk angering the possible rebels or Exiles behind the Keep’s walls. I hated that any of my subjects were too afraid to come to me for help.

“They would have, I’m sure. If things were different.”

“I understand.” And I did. But I didn’t have to like it. “Did anything else happen?”

Rígan’s cheekbones became defined once more.

“What is it?”

She shook her head stiffly, once. “I doubt it’s important. Not to this.”

“Tell me anyway.” I made sure it didn’t sound like a command—I wanted her to say no if she wanted to. But after patiently waiting for her to speak, she huffed and explained about the sellsword looking to exploit people’s fears in the northern cities.

By the time she was done, my neck was rigid. More of my subjects hurt, this time not even by Exiles or their rebel allies, just greed. You can’t protect everyone from everything , my mother would say. But I needed to.

Lou walked in, and something palpable shifted in the room. Rígan had moved down the couch, closer to me, and I’d leaned forward to get closer to her. We sprang apart like a snapped string as though we’d been caught in a compromising position.

Rígan turned to her friend. “How’s Maya?”

Lou sat next to Rígan, feet firmly planted. Perhaps after a few minutes they’d learn to relax as Rígan had. She was practically sprawling on her half of the couch. It made me happy seeing her comfortable around me. Not everyone was.

“She’s being tended to,” Lou said. “The stitches are holding, and the swelling is down, but the physician has herbs we didn’t have access to that should help the rest of the process.”

“Did you get an herbal lesson, then?” Rígan asked.

“A small one.”

“My sister told me you’re quite the student,” I said.

Lou grinned. “I dabble.”

The mention of Brí reminded me of the reason I’d asked them in here in the first place.

“I’d hoped to speak to the three of you, but I don’t want to disturb Maya, and I’d like to bring this to you sooner rather than later. Thank you for doing your best with the mission.” I stole a poignant glance at Rígan, hoping to make her believe it. “Your efforts don’t go unnoted, and truthfully, I’d like to keep those efforts going.”

She sat up, the rigidity of her spine making me wonder how she’d react to my proposal.

“While we didn’t get what we’d hoped for this time, I still need that information. The Keep might not be a viable route anymore, but Exiles have extended their reach across the country, especially the north. I’d like for the three of you to stay on with me, take on missions that will hopefully prove more fruitful.”

Lou sat straighter, too, a sparkle about them. An excitement. Rígan gripped the couch cushion.

“However, I can’t continue to spare Thomas, and three people isn’t enough for safety.” While both of them looked prone to question that, they stayed silent. “I’ve written to my sister to have her return to Ardanna early, ideally with someone she trusts. I plan on offering them the same opportunity I’ve extended to you. A team of five skilled fighters to gather what they can for me.”

“That would be incredible,” Lou said.

Rígan’s mouth flattened. “We’d need to discuss it as a group, though. With Maya injured and the original understanding of this assignment being a single mission before returning to gate duty . . .” She turned silent when Lou studied her. “Not that I’m not grateful for the opportunity,” she added. “It’s just a bigger commitment than what we were expecting.”

“Of course,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to make a hasty decision.” She released her grip on the couch.

“May I ask something?” she said. I nodded. “Your sister is the commander of one of your military fortresses. You’re willing to remove her from her post, but not Thomas?”

Lou glanced between us uneasily, but her questions were refreshing. I smiled, truly smiled, so she knew. I liked that I’d found someone who wasn’t going to follow me without question.

“She’s the perfect fit for your group, her second is ready to take control at a moment’s notice, and she’s my sister. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that I’d request her presence, even for an extended period of time. With the threat going on, some people might even see the choice as logical. Thomas, however, is one of my best and closest guards. I am happy you’ve all gotten along, but I need him with me.”

“We already know I get along with the princess,” Lou said to her. “I imagine you and Maya will, too.”

After a moment of contemplation, Rígan spoke. “From what I’ve heard, she does sound like a good match.”

“Are you excited to see your sister, Your Majesty?” Lou asked.

My face stretched into a grin. “Very much.”

Rígan looked away, seemingly uncomfortable. Or was that longing? I tilted my head to get her attention.

“I . . .” She bit her lip. “I have a sister. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I suppose I’m a little jealous.”

My smile softened. “A reasonable reaction. Perhaps we can arrange for her to come visit, when things have settled down.”

I could have sworn there was regret in her eyes. “Perhaps.”

I nestled into the seat now that the tough parts of the conversation were over. “Princess Brí and her chosen soldier should arrive by the end of the week. Until then, I have another proposition. Should you choose to remain in my employ, I’d like for you to live here, in the castle. Since there could be more meetings together and reasons to see each other, having you live here would help keep you a secret for a little while longer. No need for coming and going from one side of Ardanna to the other. And if anything happens or we need to meet on short notice, it would be best if you were close at hand when you aren’t on a mission. Besides, I feel I owe you more than just coin for working for me.”

Lou shook their head. “Your Majesty, you don’t owe us—”

I put my hand up. “But I do. I’ve already had my staff prepare one of our guest apartments for you. The one Maya’s in now. It’s been used for visiting royal families in the past, but we won’t be in need of that sort of arrangement for a while, so it’s all yours.” Liam had even agreed, provided extra guards were put in the hall for both their safety and my own—since, he reminded me, we didn’t really know them despite Brí vouching for Lou. “And you can at least stay until Maya has healed, whether you take the extended assignment or not.”

Rígan’s mouth had fallen into an O. I tried not to chuckle. Something told me it was hard to catch her off guard, and part of me was pleased I’d managed.

“You’d be right on the other end of the hall from here,” I said. “You can bring whatever you’d like into the rooms to make them feel like home. And you’d be welcome to explore the castle as you please.”

Lou recovered first. “Thank you, Your Majesty. We’d be honored to stay here.”

Rígan’s head swiveled to him, her mouth snapping shut. After a moment, she eased into her usual confident demeanor. “That’s very generous of you, but we wouldn’t want to impose. Especially if those rooms aren’t meant for hired help.”

She hadn’t said it rudely, but something was there behind her words. Something she wanted me to catch on to. But I didn’t feel like deciphering it—I wanted them here, and I saw no reason as to why they couldn’t stay in those rooms if they agreed to it.

“It’s no imposition,” I said. “I promise.”

She smiled languidly. “Then I suppose we’ll stay, at least until Maya is better.”

“Wonderful. I’ll walk you there.” I spread my arm toward the door, inviting our newest residents to proceed toward the hall. While their backs were turned, I let out a sigh of relief. If they stayed on and stayed here, I could ensure their safety while they were in the capital.

“Though I’ll admit, not getting my muffins from The Crown for breakfasts might make me grouchy.” Rígan said it jokingly, lightly. My steps faltered.

“Thomas didn’t tell you?”

She stopped in her tracks. “Tell us what?”

Something in the way I hesitated made her take a step back. “They didn’t,” she said roughly.

“Rebels burned it down.”

Her cheeks flushed, hands fisting.

“I was planning on visiting tomorrow afternoon, if you’d like to come,” I said, voice lowered as though at a funeral.

She and Lou both nodded, words failing. As we continued toward their possible new home, despite the situation, I became a touch lighter. I might not have prevented The Crown from being attacked, my people might have been on edge, and the sellswords’ first mission might not have gone according to plan, but this felt as it should. Walking with them in Bailanín. Hopefully making them part of a team I could depend on.

This one part of my life clicked like a puzzle piece locking into its partner.

A rush of certainty sped through me.

This was definitely right.