Page 28 of The Beginning (Covert Moon, #1)

Eamonn

The Human Realm

* * *

E ven as I should be plowing through my paperwork, my mind stayed stuck in the past, to when I was sent away from the Fae Castle.

Connar and I, after clearing out my quarters in the King’s Guards bunks, left to stay the night in his rooms. The next morning, while we were arranging our travel to the Watchers’ outpost, Lord Marius had arrived, short one bride, ranting and yelling, accusing the king of fraudulent behavior.

My admiration for King Jharak, despite the actions he'd just taken against me, grew when this incident was recounted to me.

Lord Marius had been a sight to behold, apparently.

Red-faced and spitting mad, waving his arms and making threats.

He'd invested considerable time and resources in courting Lady Annaliese, had made promises to his own family and allies.

Her disappearance hadn't just been an embarrassment—it'd been a political disaster for him.

King Jharak greeted his friend with the same calm demeanor he always had, spoken calmly, and allowed Marius to yell all his anger. When Lord Marius finally left that evening, while still angry, he was no longer ranting and yelling, screaming imprecations against the king.

That was the king's gift, really. The ability to let people exhaust their fury while maintaining his own composure.

I'd seen him do it countless times with various nobles and courtiers.

He'd listen, nod thoughtfully, and somehow defuse the situation without actually giving ground. It was a skill I wished I possessed.

In thinking on it, the king had extended that demeanor and calmness toward me. I hadn’t been grateful in the moment.

Interestingly, I didn't think Lord Marius loved the Lady Annaliese.

But her family was well-placed, and apparently, he'd felt there was some benefit to marrying her.

He was quite a bit older than she, and she was extraordinarily lovely.

Not so much to my eyes, as I preferred—I didn't know what I preferred anymore.

I thought I had—but no. Not yet. The recounting in my head must follow events.

Only by keeping everything in order did I keep madness at bay.

The truth was, I'd barely noticed Lady Annaliese before all this happened.

She'd been just another pretty face at court, someone who smiled politely when introduced but held no particular interest for me.

My heart had already been spoken for, my attention focused elsewhere.

If someone had told me then that she'd be the reason my life fell apart, I'd have laughed.

When I thought of a wife, I'd always thought of Wenda. My Wenda. She was all I saw.

Well, used to see. I hadn't been able to see her since I'd been sent here.

We'd written, although her letters had been more sparse than normal.

Usually, we wrote to one another every two to three days.

It'd been a reliable rhythm, a way of staying connected despite the demands of our respective duties.

Those letters had been my lifeline back to my old life.

Wenda would write about what she saw happening in the castle gardens and drawing rooms, about the books she was reading, about mutual friends and their doings.

I'd write back about guard duties, about training exercises, about my hopes for our future.

Easy correspondence, but it'd meant everything to me.

It was the link between us that kept us moving forward.

At this point, while I'd kept up my regular schedule of writing—which I didn't realize I had until I noticed that Wenda wasn't responding as often as she had in the past—Wenda had sent me a mere four letters.

Four.

I could recite each one from memory. The first had been warm and encouraging, full of assurances that this assignment was temporary, that she'd wait for me.

The second had been shorter, more focused on news and less on feelings.

The third had been perfunctory, almost formal.

The fourth... the fourth had felt like a goodbye, though she hadn't said so directly.

Shaking my head, I considered that I'd not seen a woman since I'd left the castle.

Not that I was pining for anyone other than Wenda, but the point remained.

There were no women Watchers. All the Watchers under my command were male.

Which meant it'd been more than two months since I'd seen a woman; excluding the Lady Annaliese and the long-gone serving girl I'd "saved. "

The isolation was getting to me more than I'd expected.

It wasn't just about romantic companionship—though I missed Wenda terribly.

It was about the complete absence of feminine influence, of the different perspectives women brought to daily life.

The Watcher outpost was aggressively masculine in a way that wore on a person after a while.

Not that it mattered. I didn't think I would ever get out of here. Not until I was as old and worn as Connar had been. When no fair maiden would want me. The slowing of letters from Wenda was a sign. We were on the edge of the Fae Realm. No society, not much of anything.

What kind of life could I offer her now?

A remote posting with no prospects for advancement, surrounded by bitter men nursing their own grievances?

Long stretches of tedium punctuated by bureaucratic crises?

No social life, no cultural opportunities, no future worth planning for?

What woman in her right mind would want to tie herself to that?

What did that mean for me? For Wenda? For us? My mind swirled with all the awful possibilities.

No.

It couldn't be. Wenda was constant and true, my guiding star. I loved her. She loved me. All relationships ebbed and flowed.

But even as I told myself this, doubt gnawed at me.

Love was one thing, but practicality was another.

If I was stuck here indefinitely, if there was no path back to my former life, then what was I asking of her?

To wait for a future that might never come?

To waste her youth on someone who could offer her nothing but uncertainty and disappointment?

As I ruminated over my diminishing relationship with Wenda, , my thoughts turned to another diminished relationship: Gavin.

Despite his betrayal, I missed my friend.

I'd made inquiries to his family, but they were claiming no knowledge.

If they had it, they were sensibly pretending otherwise.

No one seemed to know anything about him, or Lady Annaliese.

His family had been polite but distant when I'd contacted them.

They'd expressed concern for his wellbeing, of course, but there'd been something guarded in their responses.

They weren't telling me everything they knew, that much was certain.

Whether they were protecting him or protecting themselves, I couldn't say.

The only thing to assume was that they'd run off together and were hiding somewhere, waiting for the drama over their disappearance to fade somewhat before coming back and asking for forgiveness.

My father had always said it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Apparently, Gavin had been paying attention to the lessons that day. But this was asking forgiveness from Lady Annaliese's father, as well as the Lord Marius, and the King himself.

That was a lot of forgiveness. More than any reasonable person could expect to receive.

But then, love made people unreasonable.

Made them believe in impossible outcomes and fairy tale endings.

Maybe Gavin thought that if he and Lady Annaliese disappeared long enough, everyone would eventually come around.

Maybe he thought their love story would soften hearts and change minds.

Maybe he was right. Stranger things had happened.

My self-absorbed musings were interrupted by a knock on the office door, the rapping sharp and hard.

Which never boded well.

"Come." I called.

Lieutenant Tobias Graystone, my second in command entered the room and reported that one of our Watchers was absent.

"What do you mean, he hasn't reported in?" The day, which had seemed like it might have the potential for something decent, had taken an abrupt turn.

It'd become one of the many never-ending days that I'd experienced since taking over this position.

Just when I thought I might have a chance to relax, rest, and escape from the tedium of managing a quiet border, something else came to my attention that demanded action.

It increased the thought that all the days that stretched before me would be one and the same.

Other than the random aggravations, there was nothing to break the monotony.

Perhaps I'd learn to love the aggravation—just enough to break the daily grind, but not enough to get me in hot water with the king or anyone else.

Good gods. What a dreary thought.

Every warrior needed a purpose. I needed to stop whining and feeling sorry for myself and find a purpose. For me, for the men of my command. After all, they were mine to command, yes?

The Watchers looked to me for leadership, for direction.

They'd been drifting under Connar's increasingly hands-off approach, and now they needed someone to give them structure, to make them feel like their service meant something. No one had explicitly said anything, but I’d seen it.

To restore that sense of purpose–that was my job now, whether I liked it or not.

And if I was being honest with myself, having a clear purpose might be exactly what I needed too.

I suspected the King might have something to say about that, but he wasn't here, and I was able to think whatever I wanted to. While he was the King of this Realm, I was the man in charge of the day to day at this outpost, of all the things that happened here, on the edge of everything.