Page 20

It was a beautiful land, one that seemed to hum with life in every corner. Everild admired the rolling lakes that shimmered in the early morning light, their calm waters reflecting the soft pastel colors of the sky. The mountains loomed majestically in the distance, their peaks kissed by clouds, as if reaching up to touch the heavens. The forests stretched for miles, tall and ancient trees intertwined, creating a canopy of green that whispered secrets to the wind. It was a land that breathed tranquility, a land untouched by chaos, where every step felt like a return to something sacred.

The quiet was unlike any Everild had ever known. There were no bustling streets, no distant sounds of industry, no clamor of crowded towns. Just the gentle rustling of leaves, the distant cry of birds, and the soft calls of animals hidden in the underbrush. Serene. Peaceful. Not wild, as others had described it, but rather free—free in the sense that everything here seemed to grow and live naturally, as if it had always been this way and always would be. It was a place where life flourished without force, where nature reigned, unrestrained.

As Everild marveled at the land, his thoughts turned to Camdyn. That Camdyn had been born in such a country, and then raised in the quiet and peace of a monastery, explained so much about his gentle soul. It was no wonder his husband was so calm, so lovely, and so full of grace. The serenity of the land had become part of Camdyn’s very essence, shaping him into the person Everild had come to love so deeply.

When Everild shared this thought with Camdyn, the young man blushed deeply, his freckled face glowing in the soft warmth of the campfire’s light. “Oh, Everild,” he murmured with a shy smile, his voice a soft whisper, “That’s just the romantic in you.”

Everild’s heart softened at the words, for he had never before been described as a romantic. It was something he had never expected anyone to say about him. No one had ever looked at him—his thick muscles, his jagged scars, the roughness in his voice and the growls that escaped his throat—and called him sweet. In his past, he had been known for his strength, his fierceness, his resolve. But Camdyn saw something else in him. Camdyn saw gentleness and softness, things that Everild never thought anyone could see, especially not in a man like him.

Years ago, Everild wouldn’t have believed such qualities could exist in himself. He had been hardened by battle, shaped by survival. But Camdyn, with his earnestness and sincerity, had shown him that there was more to him than just the soldier, the warrior, the king. When Camdyn told him he was handsome, Everild believed it, not because of the way others looked at him, but because Camdyn saw him with such warmth. When Camdyn said he was gentle, Everild believed it, because in Camdyn’s eyes, there was no judgment, only acceptance. When Camdyn reminded him that he was good, Everild felt a truth deep in his chest that he had never known to be true before.

And when they were in bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms, and Camdyn looked up at him through those long, dark lashes, speaking the words that had become Everild’s greatest treasure—“I love you”—Everild believed it, too. He believed it with all his heart, for there was no greater truth than the love they shared.

The night was drawing to a close, and it was almost time to rest. They still had a long journey ahead of them in the morning, and the cold night air reminded them that they would need their strength for the road. The horses were resting peacefully in their stalls, their gentle breathing a quiet lullaby. Most of the attendants were already in their tents, having finished their duties for the day, and only the guards remained outside, keeping watch over the camp.

But for now, there was no hurry. For now, they sat together beneath the vast, star-filled sky. The night felt endless, and in the silence, Everild could hear the steady rhythm of Camdyn’s breath beside him. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in the peaceful stillness of the moment. It was just the two of them, alone in the quiet, surrounded by the beauty of the land they traveled, with nothing but the sound of their hearts beating in unison.

In this place, with Camdyn by his side, Everild felt more at peace than he had ever known. The road ahead was uncertain, but for tonight, they had all they needed. And as the stars twinkled overhead, Everild couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for the love they had found, in this beautiful land, under the vast, eternal sky.

◆◆◆

They weren’t that far from the monastery when they spotted a man in the distance, standing amidst a herd of cows. At first glance, it seemed as though he was simply shouting at them, but as Everild observed more closely, it became apparent that he wasn’t just cursing at the stubborn creatures. No, he was arguing with them, as if expecting some kind of intelligent response. He would shout at them, pause, and then wait as though he was expecting them to speak back—when they didn’t, he would grow angrier than before and shout again.

“How dare you!” the man’s voice rang out, frustration lacing his words. “This is impertinence of the worst sort! I was there when you were calved—”

Everild held up his hand, signaling the retinue to halt. Camdyn, who had been riding beside him, quickly brought Seilide to a stop, patting the horse’s neck as he looked at his husband. “What is it?” he asked, his voice soft but attentive.

“That man,” Everild said, pointing toward the scene ahead, where the monk was trying in vain to deal with the unbothered cows. “He’s concerning me.” His tone was firm. Everild didn’t like the idea of anyone causing such a scene, especially not near Camdyn.

But before he could say more, Camdyn’s eyes lit up with recognition. He quickly dismounted, moving with a speed that surprised Everild, who was still processing the situation. “That’s Brother David!” Camdyn exclaimed, his face lighting up with a mixture of surprise and affection.

“Brother David?” Everild asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. He had already heard more than enough blasphemous phrases from the man to be concerned. “Camdyn, wait, don’t—”

But Camdyn was already striding toward the monk. The energy in his movements was infectious, and before Everild could fully process his own thoughts, he was following suit. His stride was longer, sure, but Camdyn’s eagerness quickly outpaced him. They dashed through the soft grass, their footsteps light as they made their way toward the monk. The cows, seemingly intrigued by their arrival, paused for a moment, their eyes following the newcomers. If Everild didn’t know better, he might have thought the cattle were watching them with a mischievous glint in their eyes.

“Brother!” Camdyn called out, his voice warm and familiar as he reached the monk. “Brother David!”

The monk, caught in his frantic attempts to corral the cows, paused and turned briefly. “Ah, there you are, lad. Where have you been? Now, help me with these blasted creatures—you know they’ve got it out for me.”

Everild watched in bewilderment as the cattle mooed in response, their calls sounding oddly like laughter. It was a strange and somewhat surreal moment, the kind Everild wasn’t sure how to interpret.

Camdyn, unfazed, walked over to the monk, his voice gentle but firm as he approached the unruly herd. “Brother,” he scolded playfully, “I’ve told you many a time that you’ve got to ask them nicely.”

The monk groaned. “Oh, nicely, he says. They’ve never treated me nicely. Not in all my years.”

Camdyn was unbothered, his tone still light. “Start now, then.”

Everild could hardly believe what he was seeing, and the captain of the guard, who had been riding along with them, must have felt the same. He stopped his horse beside Everild, casting a glance at the odd exchange. “Is everything alright here, Your Majesty?” the captain asked, his expression uncertain.

Before Everild could offer a response, the monk’s voice rang out again, louder and more agitated. “No, of course not—does everything look alright to you? These damned cows again! They won’t listen to a word I say!” The monk then paused, looking around. His eyes locked on Everild and the captain, and then he shifted his gaze to the rest of the retinue, still watching from a distance. “Who’s this man, Camdyn?” he asked, squinting in confusion.

“This is my husband, Brother,” Camdyn said with a smile, as though introducing a dear friend. “Everild. Remember? I left to get married.”

The monk raised an eyebrow, giving a snort of disbelief. “Ah, a ruler. Always one of them around. One dies, and another takes their place. Never ends.” He turned to Everild with a mischievous grin. “I’d rather have someone lend me a hand. What do you know about cows?”

Everild shrugged, trying to keep his composure. “Not much,” he admitted. “Except to follow Camdyn’s lead with them.”

“Well, how unusual!” David exclaimed, slapping Everild’s shoulder in a friendly manner. “This kingdom’s had four rulers in my lifetime, and here’s the first wise one!”

Camdyn blushed, the sudden attention from the monk making him a little uncomfortable. “Brother David, please! Be respectful to my husband!”

Everild couldn’t help it—he laughed, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. The monk simply shrugged, unfazed. “I think I do remember Brother Cenric mentioning something about you being prince consort now, lad. That’s a fine thing! Very useful! You’ve all these people to help us with the cattle now.”

The retinue, still watching with wide-eyed astonishment, seemed even more baffled as Camdyn continued to gently scold the elderly monk. He then turned to the cows, speaking softly to them. He called them by name, one by one, and asked them to make their way home. To the astonishment of everyone watching, the cows sniffed Camdyn with interest, nuzzling him in what appeared to be a greeting, before slowly turning and making their way back toward the monastery. Everild could have sworn the cows seemed almost pleased by the attention.

The monk, seemingly overjoyed by the turn of events, let out a jubilant laugh. “Hah!” he exclaimed, and wandered after the cows, all smiles.

Everild watched the old monk walk away and then moved to help Camdyn back onto Seilide. But Camdyn, shaking his head with a smile, placed a gentle hand on Everild’s arm. “I’d like to walk back to the monastery, Everild,” he said softly. “Could I do that? Just as the pilgrims do?”

“Of course,” Everild replied without hesitation. “Let’s walk together. It’s a fine day.”

With that, Camdyn kissed his cheek affectionately and took his hand. The retinue followed behind, riding slowly on horseback, while the king and his prince consort walked together under the bright, shining sun, their laughter mingling with the peaceful sounds of the surrounding countryside. The day was clear, the sky a vibrant blue—everything felt right in the world.

The monastery itself, nestled below the hills near the shore, was unlike anything Everild had seen before. It was so different from the grand churches of the Capital, towering and gleaming with white stone and decorated with intricate stained-glass windows. It was also unlike the chapel in their castle, where Camdyn would kneel each morning, surrounded by candles and flowers.

Here, the buildings were simple, constructed from plain gray stone. The stones seemed roughly cut, some left in their natural state while others were roughly broken to fit the shapes of the buildings. The architecture was humble, with domed roofs that created an austere, ascetic atmosphere. It was a far cry from the luxury of the Capital, but there was a quiet peace here—a place for the monks to sleep, to cook and eat, and, most importantly, to pray. A life of simplicity and structure.

The monastery’s yard was equally simple but well-kept. The grass was lush and green, chickens, goats, and sheep wandered about a section of fenced-in land, while many of the monks tended to a sizable garden. Some were harvesting parsnips and spinach, while others covered the crops with soil and straw to protect them from the winter chill.

“What’s that for, Camdyn?” Everild asked, his curiosity piqued as he helped his husband navigate down the small hill toward the yard.

“Oh, thank you, Everild,” Camdyn replied, his voice soft with appreciation. “It’s to protect the crops that’ll still be growing through the winter. It helps keep the worst of the weather off them.”

“I see.” Everild nodded, still absorbing the simplicity and beauty of the place. There was so much he had to learn about this kind of life. He looked forward to spring, when they would be able to plant more. Perhaps flowers this time—bright, colorful blooms like bluebells, primroses, and marigolds. He smiled at the thought, imagining Camdyn laughing among the vibrant colors, chatting with the monks as they worked.

As the cattle made their way back to the pen, David cupped his hands around his mouth and called out in a voice full of mirth, “Look! Look who’s come to visit us! Camdyn’s back!” He paused before adding, “Oh, and here’s the king as well!”

Everild’s laughter bubbled up once again at the monk’s enthusiasm.

The monks paused their work, and one of them—a man taller and slightly younger than the others, with a salt-and-pepper beard but not yet elderly—threw aside his spade and dashed toward them.

Camdyn’s entire body shook as he saw the man approaching. “Cenric,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Everild, that’s Cenric.” He was almost dazed. “Oh, I missed him so much.”

Everild, touched by his husband’s obvious love for the monk, brushed a stray curl from his face and smiled. “Go on, then. Go see your father.”

Camdyn’s face lit up with a wide, joyful grin. He seized Everild’s wrist, kissed his palm, and then without another word, he took off toward the monk who had raised him.

The reunion was nothing short of overwhelming. Camdyn practically tackled Cenric with his hug, and the two of them tumbled to the ground, laughing and crying in sheer joy. Cenric held Camdyn’s face in his hands, and Everild heard the monk murmuring softly, “Oh, my boy, my little boy…”

Tears spilled from Camdyn’s eyes as he smiled through his laughter. “I thought maybe I’d never see you again,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “When I left—and then, when I didn’t get any word from you in so long, I thought maybe you’d forgotten me—but then I did get your letters, and we wrote to each other, but I still missed you, and Everild said we should come and see you, and I wanted it to be a surprise—Did we surprise you, Cenric?”

Cenric chuckled, his voice thick with emotion. “Yes, oh, my goodness, yes, you have. What a wonderful surprise. The best surprise I’ve ever had.”

“I love you,” Camdyn whispered into Cenric’s robes.

Cenric squeezed him tighter, his eyes red-rimmed with emotion. “I love you so much. Always remember that.” He looked up at Everild, gratitude shining in his gaze. “Thank you, Your Majesty. For bringing Camdyn back to visit.”

It was an incredibly intimate moment, one that made Everild feel like an intruder. He wanted to give them space, to let them have this reunion without his presence. But Cenric’s words pulled him back. He cleared his throat, speaking softly. “It wasn’t entirely altruistic.”

Cenric furrowed his brow in confusion. “No?”

“No,” Everild replied, his voice steady but filled with affection. “My husband is the best of people. There’s never been anyone in my life as kind, as gentle. And he loves you. Admires you. I wanted to see you with my own eyes. To meet my father-in-law.”

Cenric, unable to respond through his emotions, simply nodded and closed his eyes, pulling Camdyn ever closer. But Camdyn, with a soft smile, looked at Everild and said, “Everild, I told you you’re a romantic.”

◆◆◆

The rest of the monks greeted Camdyn enthusiastically, rushing from their chores to wrap him in tight embraces or ruffle his hair in affectionate delight. There was laughter and chatter as they made their way toward him, voices raised in a kind of joyful commotion, and Everild found himself smiling at the scene. The Abbot, a kind-hearted elderly man, embraced Camdyn warmly, the look of joy on his face evident as he welcomed each and every member of their party with open arms, his welcome hearty and sincere. His tone was filled with affection, and there was no mistaking the deep respect he held for Camdyn.

The monastery, small and humble, wasn't quite what Everild had expected, but its charm and simplicity felt like a balm after the long journey. Everild had always known that the monks didn't have much in terms of material wealth, and he was concerned that their retinue might be too much for them to manage. He feared the monks would have to dig into their winter supplies just to appear as good hosts for royalty, stretching their resources thinner than necessary.

“We’ve our own provisions,” Everild told the Abbot, his voice low and sincere. “Don’t concern yourself about sharing your resources with us. Please, we don’t wish to impose.”

The elderly man, however, shook his head vigorously, his face kind but resolute. “Nonsense, Your Majesty. It is harvest time, and God has blessed us with Their bounty. The mast in the forests, the eggs from the hens, the milk and cheese from the cows, goats, and sheep. The crops from the garden, the fruit from the orchard, the fish from the sea. There is always plenty, always. And how could we scrimp on hospitality when you’ve all gone to the trouble of bringing Camdyn to us once more? Don’t worry. We are very glad to have you here. All of you.”

Despite the Abbot’s assurances, Everild had them camp away from the monastery, unwilling to disturb the monks’ daily routine. They set up tents near the outskirts of the grounds, where the peace of the countryside seemed to settle around them like a soft blanket. Everild watched as Camdyn, with his familiar, easy grace, fell back into old habits with ease. He started sweeping the stone path clean, his movements light and rhythmic, as if he had never left. He tended to the garden with the same care he had once shown, kneeling to pull weeds with an unhurried attentiveness that made Everild’s heart swell. Camdyn didn’t rush; he simply enjoyed the process, the simplicity of it, the connection to the earth beneath his hands.

And then, without missing a beat, Camdyn joined the monks in their prayers, his voice blending seamlessly with theirs in the sacred rhythm of their hymns. Everild stood a little ways off, his eyes closed as he listened, and he could pick out Camdyn’s voice from among the rest. It was always there, a steady presence that gave him comfort in a way no words ever could.

When had Camdyn last taken a nap? Everild wondered. Likely not since he was a toddler, when a nursemaid had seen to his needs. But the quiet afternoon, the shade of the tree he was resting against, the sound of Camdyn’s sweet, low voice as he sang—these things brought Everild a peace he hadn’t known in years. The warmth of the sun, the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves, and the contentment of being near Camdyn... it filled him with a sense of calm that he hadn’t realized he needed.

Camdyn was the source of that peace.

In his dreams, Everild felt the soft touch of Camdyn’s hand, and heard the sound of their laughter mingling together in the quiet of their bed as they talked into the night. He dreamed of the warmth of their shared space, of quiet, tender moments where the world outside seemed to vanish. Comfort. Love. Home.

Everild dozed off just long enough for the prayer to finish, and he awoke with a start as he heard Camdyn’s voice, not directed to God but to him. “Everild? Everild, I didn’t know you were tired!”

When he blinked the sleep from his eyes, there was Camdyn, kneeling beside him in the grass, the sunlight framing his face, the corners of his honey-brown eyes crinkled as he smiled. His presence was like a beacon, warm and inviting.

Everild gave him a sleepy smile and replied, “I didn’t realize, either. But it was a long journey. And your singing…” He trailed off, knowing that it wasn’t just the singing that had put him at ease. It was Camdyn’s very presence, the way he made everything feel right, safe.

Camdyn, ever the tease, grinned mischievously. “Ah, good thing prayers are so long. I bored you into a nice rest,” he said with a wink, pressing a quick kiss to Everild’s cheek. Everild shook his head, his smile soft and affectionate. He wasn’t bored—not in the slightest. He just... felt calm. He felt safe.

“You make me feel safe,” Everild said, his voice firm with sincerity. “I can relax with you.”

Camdyn’s eyes softened, and he kissed him again, this time with more tenderness. “I’m so glad, my love. Are you still tired?”

“No.” Everild shook his head, already beginning to sit up. “Did you have something in mind?”

Camdyn’s eyes lit up, his excitement palpable. “I want to show you the beach,” he said. “My favorite place. We have time, though. We can wait until tomorrow, if you’d like.”

But Everild was already moving. He could deny Camdyn nothing, and the thought of seeing Camdyn so happy brought him more joy than anything else. “I’d love to. Let’s go.”

They walked down the well-worn path to the shore, side by side, the sound of their footsteps muted by the grass beneath their feet.

Everild had seen the sea before, of course. The first time had been years ago, a memory that now seemed like a lifetime away. Back then, he had arrived at the harbor to find it teeming with young men and women eager to prove themselves as brave and loyal soldiers, ready to defend God and king. Everild had been one of them, eager and full of youthful determination.

What struck him most at that time had been the sheer number of ships, the vast armada floating in the harbor, surrounded by countless soldiers ready for war. The sight of the sea, an endless expanse stretching out beyond the horizon, only fully sank in when the shoreline disappeared from view. It was then that he had felt the overwhelming vastness of it—the water stretching out in all directions, vast and powerful, a reminder of how small and fragile they all were in the face of such a force of nature.

The journey back had been brutal, almost unbearable. He had been too exhausted, too filled with despair to get out of bed, but sleep never came. Instead, he was haunted by the memories of battle, the bloodshed, and the haunting sound of the waves crashing against the ship’s hull.

He had vowed to leave it all behind when he waded ashore. Stripping off his armor, Everild had walked away from his life as a soldier, his sword abandoned to rust and his heart heavy with guilt and remorse. Back at his family’s castle, he had been angry, miserable, and alone—until Camdyn entered his life.

Now, on this beach, with Camdyn by his side, Everild felt a sense of peace he hadn’t thought possible. His husband sighed deeply as they reached the shore, his voice thick with emotion as he murmured, “Oh, Everild, it’s just as I remembered. I thought it might be different now, but—but it’s still just as beautiful.”

Camdyn was staring at the glittering blue-green sea, but Everild’s gaze was on him. He watched as Camdyn spoke about the first time Cenric had taken him fishing, the memories flowing easily as he described their shared experience. They had caught a basketful of wriggling fish for the monks’ dinner, and Camdyn warned him about walking on the algae-covered stones because they were so slippery. He described how to harvest razor clams from the sand, laughing as he recounted his many frustrated attempts. Every word was a precious memory, a treasure.

Beautiful, Everild thought, yes, absolutely and utterly beautiful.

The air was fresh and crisp with the briny scent of the sea. The sky was a perfect blue, not a cloud in sight, and the sound of the gulls above was drowned by the steady roll of the waves. It was the kind of beauty that took your breath away, the kind that made you feel as though everything in the world was in its right place.

And there was Camdyn, as beautiful as ever. His eyes sparkled with joy, his curls tousled by the sea breeze, and his cheeks flushed from the cool wind. He looked as though he belonged here, as if this beach was a part of him, a piece of his soul laid bare for Everild to see.

The last time Everild had arrived at a beach, he had discarded his armor and left behind his sword, letting them rust in the sand.

Camdyn turned to him, his smile warm and knowing. “You’re thinking very hard about something,” he said, smoothing Everild’s brow with his gentle hands. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

Everild smiled, his heart full. “Just how much I love you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere.

Camdyn’s face lit up, and his voice dropped into a tender murmur as he replied, “I love you, too.”

Then Camdyn smiled wide, his eyes full of light, and said, “Everild, let’s walk together.”

With a happy heart, Everild laced their fingers together and pressed a kiss to Camdyn’s lips. “Let’s,” he said, his voice a quiet promise.

And together, hand-in-hand, they walked along the shoreline, their feet sinking into the damp sand, the tide lapping gently at their toes.