“Ah.” The corners of Gigi’s mouth turned down. “Yes, that.”

  “What is it?” Isa moved closer.

  “Come. Let’s go somewhere a little more private.” Gigi called over a few young girls and directed them to finish her work. Then she led Isa to a little bread pantry off the kitchen. They didn’t speak until a candle had been lit and the door was firmly shut.

  “When Ever was small,” Gigi began, “Etulle was his favorite time.” A distant smile lit the old woman’s lips. “It was the one day of the year when he was allowed to play with the other children unbridled. They had games and sweets and songs, and he thrived on them all.” She paused. “Do you remember the last Etulle celebration?”

  Isa rubbed absently at the beading on her gown. “Somewhat.” She thought for a moment longer. “I suppose I remember my parents’ reaction better than the actual event. They seemed…I don’t know. Disappointed?” It had been years since she’d actually stopped to think about it.

  But Gigi nodded as though this didn’t surprise her a bit. “King Rodrigue had begun to seek more and more wisdom from his advisers, and he began to seek the Fortress and the Maker less. Garin did his best to sway the king to the old ways. But the king…” She shook her head. “Anyhow, that year, the Fortress had its usual celebration. But when it came time for the king to bring the stellar celebration to its apex…” Gigi shrugged. “The stars hardly shimmered.”

  Isa sat slowly on one of the stools that had been left beside the bread shelves. She’d known the king’s power had waned heavily before Rodrigue died. But she hadn’t realized it had sunk so early in his reign. Ever would have been a young man…a boy, really, when that had happened. Isa’s heart twisted as she imagined Ever seeing just how far his father had fallen.

  “So that’s why they stopped the Etulle celebration at the Fortress,” she breathed. Then she had another thought. “Which means, knowing Ever…”

  “He’s spent the last five weeks dreading this day. And I would bet you all my coins that he’s afraid—”

  “Afraid he’ll fail like his father.” Isa finished.

  Gigi nodded. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed it before this morning.”

  From any other servant besides Garin, the near rebuke would have been utterly impertinent. But Gigi was more like a grandmother than a servant, and Isa knew she deserved it.

  “I guess I have sensed his uneasiness. But I was hoping it was related to cleaning up Bronkendol’s mess. Etulle seemed like the perfect way to help him after all he’s been through.”

  “Has it helped heal you?” Gigi asked.

  “Mercifully so.” Isa let her head fall back and lean against the shelf behind her. “From the moment you announced the preparations, I’ve felt like my heart had lost some great weight.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Gigi gave her a knowing smile. “But I have to ask. Has it been truly healing? Or simply a distraction that’s turned the tides of your thoughts?”

  Isa sat a little taller. “I’m a different person than I was I was before Bronkendol.” Then she sighed. “I just wish Ever could see that he is, too.”

  A bell sounded from outside, and they both stood.

  “Be gentle with him.” Gigi put her hand on Isa’s arm and gave her a soft squeeze. “You might be in a better place, but the Maker has humbled him greatly over the last year. Building him back up will take time.”

  Before Isa could say anything else, a servant opened the pantry door and let out a squeak of surprise. But Gigi assured the girl they were done, and she could go about her business, as if it were an everyday occurrence to find one’s queen and headmistress of the Fortress hiding in a bread pantry.

  Ever was standing at the head of the largest table when Isa joined him. His gray eyes were difficult to read today, their blue fire dancing slowly and methodically. He’d apparently taken the time after she left to trim his golden hair so that there was less of it to glint in the sunlight, but the sharp cut only served to heighten his appeal. The rich blue cloak he wore accentuated the width of his shoulders and sent a little tingle down her spine, reminding Isa of that first moment the Fortress returned him to her. She’d known that he was much weaker under the curse than usual, and that it had severely altered his physical appearance. But that day, when she’d finally seen him as he was meant to be, she’d been unable to take her eyes from him.

  There were also days, however, days like this one, when she saw glimpses of the injured young man beneath the hardened warrior king their subjects knew and loved. Because sometimes, he let his guard slip, and that scared, worried young Ever showed through. Isa’s heart rose in her chest as his eyes met hers. That boy was here today more than she’d seen him before. But as everyone was watching them, she had to satisfy herself with simply holding his gaze and giving him the smallest of encouraging smiles. He returned the smile, but it was uncertain, and all she could do was take her place at his side.

  The staff quieted quickly, hundreds of faces looking at Ever expectantly. As often took her by surprise, Isa couldn’t help being amazed at just how many souls served the Fortress when all gathered together. There were eight or nine dozen soldiers and their families, more young, unattached men and women, tradesmen, and servants, and seemingly countless parents who were holding their even more seemingly countless children still at tables. It was humbling in a beautiful way.

  The sight of all those children made Isa’s heart prick at the thought of what it might be like to hold her own chubby baby before this assembly today. But such thoughts were unbefitting the queen on Etulle. She and her husband were both here, and they were alive. That in itself was enough to be grateful for, particularly considering how many had lost their loved ones only months before.

  Ever took a deep breath and panic flashed across his face before speaking. In spite of his obvious nerves, however, his voice was deep and reverberated through the dining hall. Smiles widened as he spoke, and Isa could feel a calm settle over the large room.

  “For the morning, shining blue, the day’s light promise brightening,” he began.

  “For the blessings of morning,” the crowd answered back.

  “For the noon when from our hill, the…”

  The silence was deafening as Ever’s voice faltered. Every eye watched expectantly as he swallowed. He opened his mouth to try again, but nothing came out. Isa could feel the panic rising up within him.

  Someone coughed. Tension and uncertainty were growing by the minute. She glanced at Ever again out of the corner of her eye, and for the first time since meeting him, she realized that he was frozen. But Ever never gave into the fear. He knew the words. She knew this because he’d practiced every night before bed for the last week. And he wasn’t even capable of freezing.

  Was he?

  Unfortunately, she didn’t even need the gift of the heart this time to know that.

  “For the noon.” A single voice rang out in the hall. Isa quickly recognized Garin’s steady intonation coming from Ever’s other side. “When from our hill, we see the battles rage.”

  Next to join him was Gigi. Slowly, one by one, the voices rang out. Very few of them were young. Not even Isa could recall all the words, despite having heard them for the first ten years of her life. But slowly, the voice rose like a tide until most of the great hall was ringing with the song. Every voice that could was singing, rather than waiting for the usual call and response.

  For the evening when shadows fall with darkness ever rising, Evil thick and light nearly gone, children’s hopes dying

  Stars burst forth from their heav’nly home. Hope is born in the night never to be quenched, and in that seed of faith in the Maker, the Fortress was given.

  And until the Maker makes all right, it shall be our guide and guardian in every sight.

  Finally, the song ended, and Ever motioned for everyone to be seated.

  “Thank you.” His words were strained, but he made a valiant effort to regain his composure. “I thought I was old enough to remember everything from the ceremony.” He gave the hall an uncertain smile. “I guess that isn’t so.”

  A warm chorus of chuckles rolled across the hall, and he cleared his throat.

  “Mistakes or none, though, I do earnestly pray that this year is one of healing for us.” He glanced at Isa. “For us all.”

  For him especially, Isa prayed as she gave him her warmest look in return.

  Ever told everyone to bow their heads for the blessing, and then the food was served, and the hall was louder than it had been even at their wedding. People laughed and talked over one another while trying to eat. Gigi and Garin were sharing memories and chuckles of their own, and Isa looked at Ever once again, hoping to see a smile on his face as well.

  But he only picked at his food, his eyes welded to his plate. Out of the corner of her eye, Isa could see Gigi and Garin glancing at them, the expressions on their faces mirroring the one in her heart.

  You are a good king! she wanted to shout. Why can’t you see that?

  After the meal was mostly finished, Garin stood, and everyone hushed and looked at him expectantly.

  “I think,” he said, smiling widely at the nearest child, “that it’s time for a story.” Then he produced a small book from his coat pocket and held it up. “I should like to have some company, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  3

  Fine

  Ever watched as the children squealed with joy and flocked to the corner, where a large, comfy chair had been produced and placed beside one of the fireplaces. Garin seated himself in the chair and opened the book, a pair of spectacles resting on his nose. The scene was so familiar, so natural…and yet, for some reason, it hurt.

  At one time, Ever had been one of them, allowed to sit at the steward’s feet, soaking in every drop of wisdom and knowledge the man let fall. Back then, Garin had been able to fix everything. Even Ever.

  “This was always my favorite part,” he muttered, though whether he was speaking to Isa or himself, he wasn’t sure.

  Isa turned with a look of surprise. “Not the presents?” she laughed softly.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to smile. “I always felt like I was seeing a true piece of this place, the true part my father ignored more every year.”

  “A thousand years ago…” Garin’s rich voice filled the hall. Even the adults quieted and sat still in their seats at the long tables. “Destin,” he continued, “was barren. It hadn’t even boundaries or lines, for it wasn’t a kingdom of its own. Instead, it was a wasteland that belonged to the king of Tumen. And he wished it to stay that way.”

  The children gasped.

  “I feel for them,” Isa whispered.

  Ever turned to Isa, who just shrugged.

  “At least we have the memory of this day. Not that I was here in the Fortress, but even in the village, every family gathers to tell the story of the Lighted Stars. But these…” She motioned to the children sitting at Garin’s feet. “This is all foreign to them.” She broke into an enchanting smile. “I’m glad we’re doing it again this year.”

  Ever forced a smile and nodded. “Me too.”

  But was he?

  Technically, yes.

  If only he could be more like Isa. Bronkendol’s attack had shaken everyone, but Isa had been his greatest victim by far. And yet, once their home was theirs once again, her recovery had been nearly miraculous, almost like she was a new person. No more worrying about getting pregnant or being mad at him for all that had happened. He never even caught her in moments of silent sadness, staring out windows the way he found himself doing so often.

  In a way, it felt a lot like last winter, when she’d begun to break the curse, liberating everything in the Fortress except him. And he was so tired of being left behind.

  “And in that wasteland,” Garin continued, “lived all the king’s enemies. Poor and powerless they remained, and he wanted for them to remain so forever. What he didn’t expect was a knight named—”

  “Your Highness.” A guard was suddenly beside them. Isa sighed, a sentiment they could both share as Garin’s story’s spell died.

  “What is it?” Ever asked.

  “There’s someone asking to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

  Ever frowned at the young guard. “Does he have a name?”

  “Sire, he’s the high chancellor of Soudain.”

  Isa stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath. Ever turned to her.

  “What is it?”

  Isa closed her eyes. “Raoul.”

  * * *

  Ever stared at her. “You mean—”

  She nodded before slowly opening her eyes again. “The one who left me at the altar.”

  Ever turned back to his guard. “Send him to the war room. I’ll meet with him there. And Moreau?”

  “Yes, Sire?”

  Ever allowed himself his first real smile of the day. “No need to be too accommodating with this one.”

  His father would have chastised him for it, but Ever took Isa’s hand and led her from the dining hall, which she suddenly seemed incapable of doing on her own. He brought them to a stop out in the hall when they were by themselves again.

  “You don’t have to come,” he told her gently. “I can handle this, and you can stay and listen to Garin. You’ve looked forward to this for weeks.”

  But Isa shook her head, a strange, nearly frantic look filling her usually calm blue eyes. “No. I need to be there. I need to face him.”

  “You really don’t—”

  “I do.” She glared up at him. “I’m not the same person he left. And he needs to know that.”

  Ever wasn’t sure the man really needed to know that. But if she was this determined to come, there would be no talking her out of it. Unfortunately, her presence would deny Ever the chance to tell the man what he really thought of him for breaking Isa’s heart the way he had. Some words just weren’t appropriate to say in front of one’s wife, even if they were to her low-life, backstabbing former fiancé.

  They entered the war room, a large space covered in noise-dimming rugs and tapestries with several large tables. The tables usually provided a place for maps and letters that were being written in the case of conflict. But there was also one set of wrist cuffs attached to each table, and just as Ever had hoped he would, his guard had seated their visitor at one such pair at the largest, center table in the room. The cuffs weren’t on him, of course. At least, not yet. But their visitor was staring at them like his eyes were about to roll out of his head, much to Ever’s satisfaction.

  Ever seated himself at the table and studied the chancellor. His first thought upon taking a good look at the man was one of smug surprise. Isa had never spoken much about him, other than to admit how he’d abandoned her after years of friendship and promises of more. But for some reason, he’d expected…more.

  This man was soft around the middle and while not a hefty man by any means, soft everywhere else, too. Ever doubted he could have overpowered Isa while she still had her crooked wrist and ankle. He had thick black hair that was combed fastidiously, and his dark eyes were too alert to be becoming. And the way his gaze kept flicking to Isa was going to quickly get on Ever’s nerves.

  As if reading his thoughts, the man swallowed loudly and looked back at Ever, and Ever decided to stay silent as long as possible. Men often broke faster under the weight of silence than the weight of threats, although Ever could make good ones.

  Except that he didn’t get to use the silence because Isa spoke instead.

  “What do you want, Raoul?”

  Well, that was a way to begin a conversation.

  The chancellor jumped in his seat. “I…Isa.”

  “That is your queen you’re addressing.” Ever growled. “I suggest you honor her as such.”

  “Of course. Um, Your Highnesses.” Raoul tried three times to swallow before actually doing so successfully. This time, he kept his gaze on Ever. “I apologize for interrupting your festivities. They look quite grand.”

  “Festivities we’re missing more of with every moment you make us sit here,” Ever snapped.

  Isa looked like she was going to add something to this. But then her eyes widened, and the anger melted from her face. “What have you done, Raoul?” she whispered.

  Fantastic. Ever knew that voice. And it wasn’t good.

  “I asked you a question.” She went to stand behind Ever and laid a shaking hand on his shoulder.

  “I…um. I’m not sure what you mean, Your Highness.”

  “You’re racked with fear. It overpowers your senses, your tongue, even your guilt.” She leaned forward and enunciated each word with painful clarity. “What have you done?”

  If the man had looked terrified before, he looked like he might wet himself now.

  Ever folded his hands on the table. “Are you going to tell me in time for me to get back to my people, or will I have to beat it out of you?”

  Obviously, it was a bluff. Ever would never beat such a request out of a man. Well, not normally. But even Ever himself really couldn’t tell for sure right now. Whatever had Isa so shaken would definitely take more than ten minutes of attention.

  The chancellor straightened in his chair. “Um, yes. Well, I…I’m afraid I have some…some bad news.”

  Ever raised his eyebrows, so Raoul stumbled on.

  “My…wife…” He glanced at Isa before seeming to realize what a mistake that would be. “Um…My wife’s distant cousin is an earl from Tumen. And as the young man was wishing to visit Destin, we…” He paused.

  “Go on,” Ever snapped.

  Raoul took a deep breath. “We invited him here for the holiday and have been sheltering him since he arrived three days ago. Only now…”

  “Only what?” Isa snapped before Ever could.

  “We can’t find him.”

  Ever stood slowly until he was towering over the chancellor. But this time, it wasn’t for show.

  “You do know that harboring royalty from Tumen without notifying your own king is considered an act against the crown?”

 

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