Page 20 of The Shadowed Throne (Midlife Fairy Tale #4)

T he ride to Wyett’s family’s farm would take forty-five minutes, according to her valet. That was fine with Anyka. Already she’d begun to relax and forget the weight of her position.

Much as Anyka had suspected, the streets of Dearth were empty. People were either avoiding the fog or working on keeping themselves safe at home. And once her party was beyond the village, there was nothing but darkness and quiet.

The clouds had cleared enough to let a little starlight through, enough to navigate by, but Wyett made no hesitation when it came to leading them.

Galwyn sat in front of her on the saddle, his legs folded beneath him, his wings tucked in tight.

The night was calm and peaceful. Even the darkness had gone quiet.

She couldn’t remember when she’d been happier. Away from the palace. Not even at Willow Hall had she felt this free, but then, how could she have felt any kind of freedom there? Surrounded by Grym and Radiant, constantly being watched, expected to be the epitome of royalty every second of the day.

The only way she would return to Willow Hall was alone. Or with a very small party. Anything else was torture. Maybe next summer, when a return trip was expected, she would send citizens and stay home. Let them go.

She would be happier with fewer of them to deal with.

She glanced over her shoulder at Trog. His gaze was straight ahead, occasionally shifting side to side as he kept a watchful eye for trouble.

None would come. No one knew she was here. And there would be no highwaymen. She tolerated no crime in the kingdom. A few public executions took care of that. No one dared risk their neck for ill-gotten gains.

The rhythmic clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the road began to lull her into a deeper sense of relaxation. Had she been in a carriage, she might have slept.

Time passed easily, and suddenly she realized she could see lights on the rise. Nothing much, just two squares glowing faintly in the inky darkness.

“The homestead?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady,” Wyett answered. “I’ll ask your forgiveness now as I’m sure my parents are already in bed.”

“Oh.” It never occurred to her that she’d be waking them up. “I suppose they do turn in early.”

“Yes. Their day starts with the dawn.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.” She actually meant it, too.

“They will be deeply honored by your presence, my lady. It will not be a bother, I promise.”

She smiled. She’d packed a small pouch of coins, mostly silver but a few gold pieces as well. A gift for his family. If that didn’t make up for the inconvenience of her surprise visit, there was nothing else she could do.

But she was their queen. They should be honored. Even if her arrival was unexpected. She was here to relax, not be waited upon hand and foot. She could have that at the castle. Besides, if she did need something, Wyett was here.

They turned down the lane that led to the farm. The wind shifted, bringing the scents of earth and animals. Galwyn got to his feet and ruffled his feathers, his keen black eyes taking in his new surroundings. He knew they were nearing the end of their journey.

When they reached the house, a modest two-story cottage that looked as though it had been added onto over the years, Wyett dismounted, went to the door, and knocked.

Trog got down and offered Anyka a hand. She accepted and dismounted as well, then lifted Galwyn to her shoulder. Trog got her bag down.

After a few moments, the light inside the house brightened and the door opened. An older man stood there in a flannel robe. He blinked twice, then recognition hit him. “Son! You’re home!”

“Papa,” Wyett said as the man pulled him into a hug.

“Your ma’s gonna be so happy, but you should have told us you were…” The man’s gaze drifted past his son to Anyka. He blinked again, mouth open, then bowed low. “Your highness.”

Anyka smiled and walked closer. “Hello.”

“Your majesty, may I present my father, Lloyd Windmere. Papa, this is Queen Anyka. She would like to escape palace life for a bit and was hoping she could seek refuge here. I thought she could use Wenda’s room.”

Lloyd nodded, seemingly unable to find his words. He cleared his throat. “It’s a great honor to have you here, your majesty.” Then he looked at Wyett. “I best tell your ma.”

“Yes, that would be for the best.”

He stared a moment longer. Anyka almost laughed. The villagers never looked at her that way, but then, maybe they were used to seeing her.

“’Scuse me, your highness.” Lloyd took off into the house. His voice, muted by the distance, could still be heard. “Lynder, Lynder , wake up. You ain’t gonna believe who’s at our door.”

Anyka couldn’t help but chuckle. “Your father seems lovely.”

Wyett looked relieved by her assessment. “My parents are simple country people, my lady. They are exactly as they seem. No pretenses.”

“Perfect.”

He took her bag from Trog. “I’ll show you to your room. It was my sister’s when she was younger.” He gestured to a house that could just be seen in the distance, nothing more than a darker shape on the horizon. “She and her husband, Trevy, live there now.”

“Lead the way.”

He took her inside. The house smelled faintly of woodsmoke and cookery.

What she could see of it, which was mostly the sitting room with the embers in the fireplace, was clean and tidy, if a little threadbare in places.

But everything looked loved and well cared for, something that gave Anyka a sense of peace.

Coming here had been the right thing to do. She needed this reminder, that her kingdom was filled with good people doing the best they could with what they’d been given. They deserved more.

She could only give them more if she also ruled Summerton. She had to stay strong and stick to the path before her. She had to persevere. Not just for the memory of her parents, not just to create a bigger, better kingdom for Beatryce to someday rule, but for her people.

A woman came hustling around the corner in a floral print robe, her hair wrapped in a scarf. She stumbled to a stop at the sight of Anyka and went into a deep curtsey. “My lady, it’s true. You’re really here.”

“Yes,” Anyka said. “Thank you for having me in your home.”

“Queen Anyka,” Wyett said. “My ma, Lynder Windmere.”

Anyka was feeling rather magnanimous. She took a few steps forward through the sitting room and extended her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Lynder. You must be very proud of your son.”

Lloyd appeared behind Lynder as she took Anyka’s hand and curtseyed again. “Very proud, your majesty.” She looked past Anyka at Wyett. “Although I’m a little peeved he dint send word you was coming ahead of time.”

She wrung her hands together. “I would have straightened up.”

“I can’t imagine your house being any tidier,” Anyka said. “And there was no time to send word. I needed a safe, calm place to spend a little time. He suggested your home, and I jumped at the opportunity to spend some time in the country. Away from the weight of the crown, even if for a few hours.”

“You’re always welcome here, ma’am.”

Lynder looked like she was about to curtsey a third time, so Anyka quickly spoke again. “Wyett was about to show me to a room. I really don’t want to be a bother. In fact, just carry on as if I wasn’t even here.”

Lloyd snorted. “Don’t think there’s much chance of that, ma’am.”

Wyett stepped forward. “Ma, Papa, go back to bed. I have everything in hand. Promise.”

They hesitated, as if they weren’t sure whether to believe him.

“Go on,” he said. “The animals won’t tend themselves in the morning.”

“No, they won’t,” Lloyd said. “Good night, your highness.”

“Good night, Lloyd.” Anyka smiled at them. “Good night, Lynder.”

“Night, m’lady.”

Lloyd took his wife’s arm, and they disappeared into the back of the house.

“This way, my lady,” Wyett said, indicating the stairs in front of him.

“Coming,” Anyka said. “Trog, door.”

He grunted and positioned himself by the front door.

Anyka followed Wyett up the stairs, and in a matter of minutes, she was in a narrow single bed, a feather mattress beneath her, a quilted spread covering her, and Galwyn perched on the wooden headboard. The sweet scent of the beeswax candle that had just been extinguished perfumed the air.

No one knew where she was. She might have been anyone in that moment. Maybe being a commoner wasn’t so bad. No real responsibilities, no royal duties or civic obligations. Just some chores and … life. How odd and interesting. How simple and easy .

With a subtle smile bending her mouth, she drifted off to sleep.