Page 8 of The Curse Between Us

Edric spent a restless night on the chaise, waking multiple times to the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the sheer curtains, casting pale, ghostly shadows across the room. Each time he stirred, he needed a few moments to gather himself, to remember why he was there — cramped and uncomfortable — instead of in his wide, warm bed. His body ached from the awkward angles he’d twisted into during the night, muscles protesting with every shift and stretch, the upholstery of the chaise too stiff to offer any true relief.

Because the bed was currently occupied. By his husband. The thought brought a fresh wave of frustration that gnawed at the edges of his exhaustion. Zephyr lay sprawled across the mattress, serene and untouched by the turbulence that plagued Edric’s mind. And Edric could not touch him, not even in accidental passing during sleep. The invisible barrier between them, unspoken but undeniably present, was as impassable as a stone wall.

It was a wonder he got any sleep at all. His eyes would slip shut out of sheer fatigue, only to flutter open again at every creak of the floorboards or sigh of the wind against the windowpane. He counted the hours by the slow movement of the shadows, and by the time the sun’s first rays crept through the large windows of his chambers, he abandoned any hope of rest. With a groan he tried to stifle, he rolled off the chaise, joints popping as he stretched. He cast a wary glance towards the bed, watching Zephyr’s steady, rhythmic breathing, but the other man did not stir.

Thankful for a few moments to himself, Edric quickly dressed in loose trousers and boots, his fingers sluggish as he fumbled with the laces. The castle was already stirring when he slipped out of his chambers, but he ignored the curious glances from the attendants he passed in the corridors. Let them whisper. Let them wonder why their new king was awake early, striding through the halls of the castle rather than still in bed with his new husband. They would never arrive at the truth, no matter how much they speculated. And if they did — well, that was a problem for another day.

Entering the barracks, he was greeted by the familiar scent of sweat and steel, the air thick with the remnants of last night’s training sessions. Victor’s eyebrows shot up as soon as he spotted Edric, while Marsh offered a softer, more knowing smile.

“Didn’t expect to see you this morning,” Victor commented, his tone carefully neutral but laced with subtle curiosity.

Edric sighed, tugging the laces on his boots tighter. “We may no longer be at war with Eskarven, but I have no plans of allowing myself to go soft. I will be here training as usual, and I expect the same of you, at least until such time as you request formal leave from the Guard.”

Victor laughed, clapping Edric on the back with enough force to make him stagger. “Unlikely.”

Marsh shook his head slowly, arms crossed over his chest. “You’ll not be rid of us that easily.”

“Very well, then.” Edric stretched his arms over his head, sighing with relief as his muscles loosened after his uncomfortable night on the chaise. “Let us proceed.”

As the morning wore on, more and more members of the Guard and the regular army filtered in, the courtyard gradually filling with the familiar clang of weapons and the sharp bark of commands. Most soldiers seemed surprised to see Edric among them but were too polite — or too wary — to comment on his presence. He threw himself into the exercises, focusing on the burn of his muscles and the way the hard-packed dirt shifted beneath his feet as he grappled with Victor. They fought to throw each other off balance, sweat slicking their skin as they twisted and turned, each movement honed by years of battle.

With one quick twist, Edric escaped Victor’s grip and danced away, grinning as he wiped his brow. “You must have had too much to drink at the feast last night,” he teased. “You’re slower than usual this morning.”

Victor just laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Whereas you are full of energy and enthusiasm,” he said, a sly glint in his eye. “Marriage agrees with you.”

Edric’s smile faltered, his stomach twisting at the words. He couldn’t tell if Victor was baiting him or genuinely pleased on his behalf, and he wasn’t sure which option would be worse. Fortunately, he was spared the necessity of a reply by Alec’s arrival, the older man’s sharp gaze sweeping over the gathered soldiers before landing on Edric like a hawk spotting prey.

“What are you doing here?” Alec demanded as he crossed the ground, his frown deepening the lines around his mouth. His hair was pulled tightly back, emphasizing the tension in his shoulders.

Edric cast a wary look at their audience, then stepped closer, gripping Alec’s elbow to steer him aside. “Might we not discuss this so publicly?” he muttered.

“You’re already making it a topic of public discussion merely by being here,” Alec pointed out, voice low but cutting.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Edric nodded, brushing dirt from his hands. “Very well. What would you suggest I do, give up all my usual routines simply because I am now married? Or simply because I am now king?”

Alec’s scowl softened, but only slightly. “No, of course not. I’ve always admired the way you do not put on airs, Edric, and it’s good that you are continuing to be visible and available to the people. But have you not considered the way those same people will talk, seeing you apart from Zephyr so soon? If they do not have faith in your marriage, they will not have faith in the alliance.”

Edric had been prepared for a lecture on treating his new husband with more courtesy. He had not been prepared to be scolded for threatening the treaty that had landed him that husband in the first place. His jaw tightened, and he scowled at Alec. “Of course. Nothing can jeopardize your grand plan. Not even my need to cling to some semblance of normalcy in the face of the enormous changes I’ve had to accustom myself to over the past few days.”

To his credit, Alec flinched at the accusation in Edric’s tone and held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, I should have considered how difficult this could be for you. But you and Zephyr have been getting along so well, and…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing. “Did... did something happen last night?”

“What?” Edric shook his head fiercely, raking a hand through his damp hair. “No. Nothing like that.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He could tell Alec the truth — explain how he and Zephyr had spent the night as distant as strangers — but it would feel like a betrayal, somehow. Unconventional as their marriage might be, Edric’s first loyalty needed to be to Zephyr now.

“I’m just learning how to be a king and how to be a husband while also learning what it means to no longer be at war,” he admitted. “It stands to reason I may struggle at times.”

Alec let out a deep breath, nodding slowly as he surveyed the training ground. His fingers curled and uncurled at his sides, as though restless with unspent energy. “I know,” he admitted, his voice rough with the weight of it. He swept a hand around to indicate the barracks and the soldiers scattered across the grounds, sparring and laughing as they honed their skills. “I don’t know what to do if I am not here. It’s like... if I stop, I might lose my purpose.”

It was an apology and a peace offering all in one, and Edric took it. He clapped Alec on the shoulder, grounding him with the touch. “I think you’ll find many people in a similar position,” he said. “So you’ll do what you always do, Alec. You’ll lead them. Except this time, it will not be into battle but into whatever comes next.”

One corner of Alec’s mouth lifted in a small, tentative smile. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Now, if you’ll allow me to offer some advice”—he paused, his smile growing—“you ought to go greet your husband. If this is a difficult adjustment for us to make, consider how it must be for him.”

Edric winced, rubbing the back of his neck. He had not intended to stay this late, truly, thinking he would sneak back into his chambers— their chambers, now — before Zephyr woke. But the sun was higher in the sky than he had realized, and Zephyr was surely awake by now, wondering where Edric had gone.

“Make sure to beat Victor on my behalf,” he said, reaching out to grip Alec’s shoulder once more. “I will see you at the council meeting this afternoon.”

With a brief nod, Alec waved him away. Edric lifted his hand in acknowledgment of the farewells from the other guards and soldiers, then hurried back through the castle towards his rooms, boots echoing loudly against the stone floors. He passed a pair of maids carrying linens, who quickly dipped into curtsies, eyes averted, but he caught the curiosity flickering across their faces.

By the time he reached his chambers, his heart was hammering harder than it had during the morning’s training. He knocked lightly before entering, not wanting to startle Zephyr. Though his voice was muffled by the door, he clearly heard Zephyr call out, “Come in.” Edric took a deep breath, steeling himself, and pushed open the door, already mentally composing an apology.

Zephyr was seated on the edge of the bed, neatly dressed in a light linen shirt and trousers, his posture rigid. His hands were clasped before him, fingers laced together tightly, and he looked almost like a statue, elegant and unmoving. But when he saw Edric enter, his eyes widened, hands dropping to clutch at the mattress beneath him as though he needed to anchor himself.

“Oh,” he said, surprise evident in his voice. “I thought it would be...”

“I’m sorry,” Edric said in a rush, closing the distance between them. He stood in front of Zephyr, whose eyes flickered downward to Edric’s bare chest before quickly returning to his face. The quick, sharp movement of it sent a jolt through Edric’s chest, and he fought to keep his voice steady. “I should not have left you alone this morning, but I did not want to disturb your slumber, and then I lost track of time while training...”

He trailed off as a small smile began to spread across Zephyr’s face, soft and amused. “Did you imagine me pining away in your absence?” he asked, raising one elegant eyebrow. “Forlorn without you after not even one full day of marriage?”

Edric frowned, opened his mouth to reply, and then laughed. The tension that had been coiled tightly in his chest loosened, just a little. Zephyr, it seemed, had an endless capacity for surprising him. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “And that was presumptuous of me.” He dropped to the bed beside Zephyr, turning slightly to face him, their knees nearly touching. “And what did you do this morning, my lord, if not wail and gnash your teeth in distress at my absence?”

“I performed some light exercises, meditated, and had a wondrous bath,” Zephyr replied. “I was about to leave the room in search of breakfast when you entered. Truthfully, I thought perhaps you were an attendant bringing me a meal.”

“Alas.” Edric clutched at his chest in exaggerated dismay. “My apologies for disappointing you.”

“I never said I was disappointed,” Zephyr replied softly, his voice dipping into something warmer, heavier. His eyes dropped once more to Edric’s bare chest, lingering this time, and Edric’s pulse stuttered.

The heat in Zephyr’s gaze was palpable, curling around Edric like a physical thing. His hand clenched on the silk coverings on the bed, fingers digging into the fabric as he fought back the urge to reach out — to trace the line of Zephyr’s cheekbone, to see if his skin was as soft as it looked.

But he could not.

He let out a shaky breath and got to his feet, feeling like a coward. “I ought to bathe,” he said abruptly, voice rough around the edges. “And then perhaps we can go in search of that breakfast you were denied.”

The wry quirk of Zephyr’s smile indicated that he knew exactly what Edric had been thinking. He inclined his head to the side, the motion impossibly graceful, and said nothing as Edric fled to the bathing room off to the side of their chambers.

Once out of sight, Edric tipped his head back against the door and groaned, dragging his hands down his face. What crimes had he and Zephyr committed to be punished this way? They liked one another well enough, despite the circumstances of their marriage, and the attraction between them was undeniable. They might have acted on that attraction to their mutual enjoyment, if not for whatever curse prevented them from being able to touch.

Truly, it was so absurd as to be almost comical. And yet Edric was not laughing. Grumbling to himself, he stepped into the bath, the cool water a relief on his heated flesh. He sank down until only his head remained above the surface, closing his eyes as the water muffled the world around him. He could still feel the ghost of Zephyr’s gaze on him, and he doubted even a thousand baths could wash it away.

◆◆◆

Reassured though he was by Zephyr’s teasing comments about pining for him in his absence, Edric still felt somewhat guilty for abandoning him on their first morning as a wedded couple. So rather than joining the other members of the court at the morning meal in the hall, he had their breakfast sent to their chambers.

One of the castle attendants arrived with trays of food and drink just as Edric finished dressing himself for the day. “Thank you, Alissa,” he said as she arranged the plates and bowls on the table. “This looks wonderful.”

“Yes, thank you.” Zephyr rose from his place on the bed, where he had apparently remained the entire time Edric was bathing and dressing, and joined them at the table. “Alissa, is it?”

She looked rather startled to be addressed so directly, but managed a proper curtsey and a small nod. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“That will be all.” Edric gave her a soft smile, which she returned shakily before fleeing the room.

“I do believe you’ve intimidated her,” he said, turning back to face Zephyr.

“Me?” Zephyr arched one eyebrow, looking perfectly innocent, his hair tidily swept back from his face and one hand poised to pour himself a glass of juice. “I did nothing but ask her name.”

“And she will tell the tale for weeks, I’m sure.” Edric took his seat and reached for the bowl of berries in the centre of the table. “How she was the one to bring breakfast to the new kings of Rafria and Eskarven.”

“I am not king yet.” Though there was no rebuke in Zephyr’s tone, there was something else, something it took Edric a moment to identify. A certain wistfulness, longing mixed with regret. Edric wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and grip Zephyr’s hand in sympathy, but they had left their gloves off to make it easier to eat. Such a gesture would not have the effect he intended it to.

“Soon,” he said instead.

The corner of Zephyr’s mouth lifted. “Soon,” he echoed softly. He reached out and selected an orange from the basket, his long fingers delicately peeling the skin from the flesh. Edric had never thought of peeling an orange as a sensuous act, but watching Zephyr do so, desire hit him like a bolt of lightning, thrilling and terrifying all at once. He swallowed roughly, the sharp sweet scent of the orange filling the air, and fought to regain control of himself and the situation.

“But until then,” he said, “we have my people to occupy ourselves with.”

Zephyr nodded, seemingly unaware of the effect he was having on Edric. “There is a council meeting this afternoon, yes?”

“Yes.” Edric nodded and re-applied himself to the task of eating. Anything to have an excuse to drop his gaze from Zephyr’s clever hands. “There is little anyone can do at this point to stop the treaty, but I am certain they will have many opinions to share on it regardless.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Zephyr popped a section of orange into his mouth and chewed it slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. “How do you think they would respond to the suggestion that we invite a delegation from my kingdom to join us here?”

Edric blinked at him, took a sip of juice, then blinked again. “With as much surprise as I am currently feeling,” he said.

Zephyr laughed, leaning forward across the table. “Think about it. I am alone here, and while I understand the practicalities of my remaining here for some time before returning home, I will continue to be gawked at and whispered about just as I was by our young attendant. Your people still see me as an Eskarven first, and the next association they make is that I am the enemy. I cannot fault them for that, but if we want to change those associations, it will take more than just becoming accustomed to seeing me at your side.”

Edric folded his hands on the table and raised one eyebrow at Zephyr. “Is this what you’ve been thinking of all morning?”

“Yes,” Zephyr replied, his expression slightly smug. “I told you I was not pining.”

Of course he wasn’t. Zephyr was raised to lead, just as Edric was. It was easy to think of him as needing coddling, adrift as he might occasionally feel in this strange land, but he was intelligent and capable and just as invested in seeing this alliance blossom as Edric was. Perhaps even more so—the faster it stabilized, the faster he could return to his own kingdom.

Edric fought back the unexpected pain that rose in his chest at that thought and nodded slowly. “It is an excellent idea,” he said. “With free travel across the mountains, there is so much we can accomplish. Trade, for example.” He nodded at the neat pile of orange peel in front of Zephyr. “I am guessing you don’t have a great deal of fresh fruit available in Eskarven.”

“We do not.” Zephyr shrugged and reached for another orange. “And on a more personal note, I believe it would reassure my people if they could see for themselves that I am well and not being mistreated in any way. I would not ask Pierce to leave, but perhaps another of my numerous cousins.”

“Would it help you?” Edric asked quietly, watching the way Zephyr’s hands stilled as he separated the segments of fruit. “To have someone familiar with you?”

Zephyr hesitated, then nodded. “Yes,” he admitted. “This castle is vast, and I find myself… untethered, at times. Your company is a balm, but you have your duties, and I cannot ask you to constantly mind me.” He looked up then, meeting Edric’s gaze directly. “I do not wish to be a burden.”

“You’re not.” The words came out sharper than Edric intended, and he softened his tone. “You are not a burden, Zephyr. I want you to be comfortable here. If that means inviting a member of your family to stay, then we will make the arrangements.”

Zephyr’s eyes shone with gratitude, and for a moment, it seemed he might reach for Edric’s hand across the table. He caught himself at the last second, fingers curling into a loose fist in his lap. The absence of the touch lingered like a ghost between them, heavy and aching.

“Thank you,” Zephyr said softly.

Edric swallowed past the tightness in his throat and nodded. “You’re welcome,” he said, and the words felt woefully insufficient for the storm of emotion churning within him.

After they finished eating, Edric took Zephyr on a leisurely but thorough tour of the training grounds, explaining in detail how he had passed the early hours of the day. The grounds were vast, divided into sections for sparring, archery, and mounted drills, each designed to hone different aspects of combat and strategy. A few soldiers lingered despite the rising heat, practicing with the diligence of those who knew war could arrive unbidden, even in times of peace.

Zephyr listened with rapt attention, his sharp gaze flitting over the soldiers’ forms as they moved through their routines. He asked thoughtful questions — not only about the logistics of training but also about how the barracks might evolve to accommodate soldiers from both kingdoms. His inquiries were precise, probing into matters of integration and morale, and though Edric didn’t always have immediate answers, he welcomed the chance to consider them.

When the sun reached its zenith, casting sharp rays across the stone walls, Edric gently touched Zephyr’s arm to steer him back toward the castle. “We ought to make our way to the council chamber,” he said. “It would be rude to be late.”

Zephyr’s lips curled into a faint smile, though Edric noticed the tension in his shoulders. For all his poise, the prospect of sitting before a council of strangers, most of whom likely viewed him with suspicion, couldn’t be easy. Edric offered him a reassuring smile, silently vowing to shield him from any undue hostility.

The council chamber was one of Edric’s favorite rooms in the castle, a space designed to inspire openness and collaboration. Its circular design fostered a sense of equality, and the glass-domed ceiling allowed natural light to spill across the polished marble table, its octagonal shape symbolizing balance. The room smelled faintly of parchment and lavender, traces of past meetings lingering like ghosts.

Edric led Zephyr to two chairs at the far side of the table, identical to the others in their simplicity. “We change seats frequently,” he explained as Zephyr settled in. “Since the council rotates members on a monthly basis, the only constants are the royal family, Herbert, and the high priest or priestess.”

Zephyr nodded, smoothing a hand over the armrest of his chair. “Very fair,” he said, voice low. “Who are we to expect at this meeting? Anyone I should be cautious of?”

Before Edric could answer, Alec and Herbert arrived, their conversation cutting off as they entered. “Those two, perhaps,” Edric said, grinning as Zephyr’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

Herbert slid into a chair opposite them, adjusting his spectacles. “I am surprised to see you here before us,” he remarked, casting Edric a wry glance.

Zephyr turned to Herbert with an arched brow. “Is Edric not usually punctual? Perhaps I am a good influence on him.”

Alec chuckled, folding his arms. “You may wish to present a more united front when the others arrive.”

Edric feigned offense, waving a dismissive hand before his gaze dropped to the table. He noted how Zephyr carefully tucked his gloved hands into his lap, a subtle gesture that made Edric’s chest tighten. They had agreed to avoid unnecessary contact, worried that habitual touches might lead to a dangerous lapse in judgment. Still, Edric missed the weight of Zephyr’s hand against his, the quiet anchor it provided.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention to the door as the rest of the council trickled in. Familiar faces filled the room: Hadley, Missa, Cesar, Martin, Skye, and Eileen, joined by others Edric hadn’t seen in weeks — Tamara, Ash, and Elsie. A blend of youth and experience, optimism and pragmatism. A carefully curated balance.

Once everyone was seated, Edric rose and motioned for Zephyr to do the same. “Welcome,” he began, his voice steady despite the knot in his throat. “Thank you all for joining us on this first day of a new chapter in the history of Rafria.” He glanced at Zephyr and adjusted. “And in the history of Eskarven.”

Scanning the room, Edric read the council’s reactions like a map. Eileen beamed with pride, Cesar’s eyes glinted with curiosity, and Skye’s mouth twitched with mischief. But Tamara’s expression was carefully blank, and Martin wore a sneer that made Edric’s pulse spike.

He pressed on, voice unwavering. “As some of you may have heard, I spent my morning as usual, training with the soldiers and the guards. It can be hard to disrupt patterns we’ve set for ourselves over the years, and it will take time for us all to adjust to our new reality. But as leaders of our community, it is you we will need to guide the people through this time of uncertainty.”

Martin stood, every line of his body radiating barely-contained mistrust, his knuckles white against the polished marble of the council table. “Why did you feel the need to train still, if we are at peace?” he asked, not bothering to conceal the accusation in his voice. His words echoed in the chamber, bouncing off the glass dome above like a discordant note. “Do you not trust your new husband, and fear he might move against us?”

Edric started to reply, his posture stiffening, but Zephyr was faster. “Perhaps I simply wish my husband to remain in peak physical condition,” he said mildly, a hint of amusement in his voice, though his fingers curled tightly around the back of his chair.

Eileen and Elsie both let out quiet giggles, quickly muffled behind their hands, but not before Martin turned to glare at them. His eyes were sharp, a flash of resentment burning in their depths before he snapped his attention back to Zephyr.

“This is no laughing matter,” he hissed, his voice low but venomous.

“I am not laughing,” Zephyr replied, standing straight and tall, though Edric noticed the slight tremor in his grip. The tension in the room was palpable, a thread pulled taut and ready to snap. “As King Edric just said, it is difficult to adjust to a new pattern of life. Those who are accustomed to physical regimens will find it hard to abandon them easily, just as those accustomed to planning stealth attacks will find it hard to stop themselves from imagining new plans.” He let his gaze linger briefly on Alec, who acknowledged the words with a subtle dip of his head but remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Zephyr turned back to the council at large, voice steady and clear. “Perhaps those among us who represent the guards might have some ideas for how to shift their focus away from combative arts into something less martial but still challenging.”

Eileen immediately leaned forward, her eyes bright with excitement. “We ought to reintroduce the tournaments,” she suggested eagerly, her fingers tapping a quick rhythm against the tabletop.

Zephyr turned to Edric with a furrowed brow. “Tournaments?”

“An excellent idea,” Edric said, seizing the opportunity to redirect the energy in the room. “The tournaments are competitions of athleticism and skill,” he explained for Zephyr’s benefit. “They were once a beloved institution, but they fell out of favour when it was decided we ought to focus on actual battle tactics and not performances, so to speak.” He did not have to mention whose decision that was. He could see in Zephyr’s eyes that he understood it had been a command from Edric’s late father, the weight of the old king’s shadow still lingering in the corners of the room.

Zephyr tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his face. “I should like to see one,” he replied. He sat down, propping his chin in one gloved hand, eyes alight with interest.

Herbert scribbled something on the parchment in front of him and looked up at Edric across the table. “It would have excellent symbolic value,” he said, adjusting his spectacles. “A marker of the new era.”

“An era of celebration?” Tamara asked, her voice tight as she twisted her wedding band around her finger. “Do we so easily forget those we have lost over the years, and go back to playing at war as though they did not give their lives for us all?”

Edric winced, her words cutting deeper than she likely intended. Tamara’s husband, Isaac, had died a few months prior, and she had become withdrawn and brittle ever since.

“We never forget,” Edric said as gently as he could, his voice low but firm. “We have all lost loved ones, Tamara. But if we wish to honour their sacrifices, moving forward in friendship and stability is the best way to do so. The tournaments need not be a reenactment of war. They could be a demonstration of unity, a chance for our people to celebrate life and resilience.”

Tamara’s mouth tightened, but she made no further protest. Edric made a note to speak with her privately later, but for now, he was relieved to see both Missa and Skye lean in to whisper to her, the tension in her body slowly easing as they did.

Zephyr cleared his throat and rose to his feet once more. He stumbled slightly as he did, and Edric almost reached out to steady him, but Zephyr shot him a warning glance and Edric pulled his hand back quickly, fingers curling into his palm.

“This leads well into a matter I wished to raise,” Zephyr said. All the faces in the room turned in his direction, polite interest on some and wariness on others. “As you all know, the marriage between King Edric and myself is representative of the new bond between our kingdoms. But I am not my entire kingdom. In order to truly cement that bond, I believe it would be beneficial to encourage more interaction between our people, in order to see one another not as enemies but as friends and partners in a new venture of peace.” He paused for a moment and took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling as he steadied himself.

“To that end, I propose that we invite a delegation from Eskarven to visit us here. Perhaps timed to coincide with the tournament.”

“Absolutely not!” Martin exclaimed immediately, surging to his feet. “They will overrun us. This is all an attempt at invasion!”

“Peace, Martin,” Alec said sharply, his voice like a blade through the rising tension. “You are welcome to express your opinions, but you will not incite panic or cast unfounded aspersions on any council member. Including the newest among us.”

Edric gave his brother a grateful look as Martin subsided, still muttering angrily to himself, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the polished marble table.

“I think it is a fine idea,” Alec continued, his voice steady and resonant, the same tone he once used to inspire confidence in his troops before leading them into battle. “Prince Zephyr is correct: how can we form an alliance with people we do not know? An invitation to a small delegation shows our good faith, and will allow us to introduce the idea of travel across the mountains.”

“I approve,” Hadley said with a sharp nod, her eyes gleaming with interest. “I would very much like to meet my counterpart from Eskarven. It would be invaluable to understand how they govern.”

At that, Zephyr smiled slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “I do believe you and Clara would make formidable allies,” he said. “And she would be glad to meet you as well. She has long hoped for a day when she might speak with Rafria’s council directly, rather than through letters carried by messengers.”

Edric scanned the table, bracing for another outburst like Martin’s, but he saw only cautious curiosity, and in Tamara’s case, reluctant acceptance. The faint furrow in her brow remained, but she no longer clutched her hands so tightly in her lap.

Then, to his surprise, Elsie spoke, her voice soft but clear. A healer and a scholar, she rarely involved herself deeply in council matters, preferring to observe and offer insights only when she felt it absolutely necessary.

“Invite them,” she said, her gaze steady. “There is much we could learn from one another. And much healing to be done, on both sides.”

“We are decided, then?” Edric asked, his voice lifting with hope. He waited for the confirming nods of the council members, even Martin’s grudging dip of the head, then smiled. “Excellent. We will discuss the details at a later date, once our Chief Strategist has drafted an invitation and a schedule for the proposed visit.” He cast a look at Herbert, who was already furiously scribbling on his parchment, lips moving silently as he shaped the words.

“If there is no other business to be discussed, I suggest we disband early.”

Chairs scraped against the stone floor as the council members rose, murmuring their farewells, some warm and sincere, others curt and restrained. Martin stalked out without a word, but Skye lingered to offer Zephyr a genuine smile before following Missa and Eileen through the arched doorway.

Once the room emptied, leaving only Alec, Herbert, Edric, and Zephyr, Edric let out a long, weary breath and collapsed back into his seat, rubbing at his eyes.

“That went far better than I had imagined,” he admitted, voice laced with exhaustion.

“Don’t get overconfident,” Herbert muttered without looking up from his parchment. “There’s still plenty of time for things to go wrong.”

Alec snorted, clapping Herbert on the back with enough force to make the strategist’s ink blot the page. “Well, if they do, you will surely have a plan to handle them.” He guided Herbert toward the door, ignoring his grumbling. “Will you join us for dinner this evening, Edric? Zephyr?”

“Yes, of course,” Edric said, waving them off before turning to Zephyr, who hadn’t answered.

Zephyr looked pale, the flush of victory faded from his face, but his eyes shone as he gazed at Edric. “You did very well,” Edric said, feeling foolish for the awkward way he expressed his admiration. “Not that I doubted you would. Just—”

“Edric.” Zephyr shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I understand you perfectly. And thank you. I am rather relieved that it is over.”

“Then let’s pass the rest of the afternoon in a more pleasant manner,” Edric suggested, rising to his feet and extending a hand as though he might help Zephyr up, but thinking better of it and letting it fall to his side. “Have you seen our portrait gallery yet? I believe you might enjoy it.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Zephyr stood carefully and followed Edric towards the door. “I’m sure you will have many interesting stories to tell, which I will counter with the versions we tell in Eskarven. Let us see whose historians are the greater embellishers.”

Edric laughed, glancing back at Zephyr over his shoulder, the sound fading when he noticed the way Zephyr had stopped a few steps behind him.

“Zephyr?” he asked, voice sharp with concern.

Zephyr’s face had gone ashen, his eyes unfocused, and he pressed a hand to his side as though trying to contain something unseen. He opened his mouth, perhaps to reassure Edric or to call for help — but no sound emerged.

Then, without warning, Zephyr collapsed to the ground.