Chapter 42
Forty-Two
A queen does what is necessary to save her kingdom.
I’d make the same choice again.
- King Richard
Everything about the sofa is fucking uncomfortable.
The cushions are too soft to be supportive. The length is a fair sum too small. The fabric is an irritating brush against my skin. And she isn’t here.
She’s supposed to be in my arms.
But instead, I spent the whole fucking night on it instead of in bed with my queen.
Whoever built this damn thing is going to get beheaded. As is the idiot who picked it for this room. And the fuckers who delivered it to the castle.
Turning on my side, I bang a fist into the cushion under my head. It does nothing to improve my comfort.
Gritting my teeth, I twist around. My eyes land on the clock that’s mocked me all night. Four-thirty – six minutes since I last checked.
Fuck it, it’s close enough to five, which is close enough to six, which is a reasonable time to get up. Swinging my legs off the sofa, I stand and look towards the bedroom. I wait, listening to see if she’s up yet so I can talk to her.
Yes, because that worked so well last night…
Fucking.
Fabia.
And she’s still in there with my queen. When I am not.
“You’re just a guy she knew for three weeks.”
Fuck.
Fuelled with an urge to break something, I stride into the kitchenette and grab some eggs out of the mini-fridge. I’ll make breakfast for her myself rather than order something from the kitchens. Fabia can’t turn me away if I bring her fucking food.
I bet she fucking tries it anyway.
I slam the eggs down on the counter. Cursing, I open the carton. At the sight of yellow ooze seeping from two of the six, I curse again and hurriedly grab a bowl to pour them into.
Fuck. There are eggshells in it.
My lips tight, I jab my fingers inside the bowl to fish them out.
The slippery things keep moving. My irritation increasing, I dip the whole bowl into the sink and grab a fresh egg.
I rap it against the edge of the counter like I’ve seen Jace do a million times, only to curse as yolk sprays everywhere.
Dear fucking gods, how is cooking this hard? My brother makes it look easy enough.
So does Jace, but he makes everything look easy, so he isn’t a great marker. But Nicholas on the other hand…
It can’t possibly be this hard.
Something is clearly wrong with the eggs.
Chucking the whole carton into the bin, I grab the pad off the counter and write down:
Fresh eggs
Remembering Evangeline’s notes, I add:
For two people
Recalling I’m still pissed –
Get them in five minutes or I’ll kill you
Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, the light turns green. I open the cabinet and find two plates of steaming scrambled eggs.
Seething, I write back:
Regular eggs. You have thirty seconds.
Slamming the door shut, I nod at it. They can’t possibly cook anything in thirty seconds.
Twenty-nine seconds later, I open the cabinet again. My eyes narrow into slits as they land on four freshly peeled hardboiled eggs. They must have started them on the first round.
Gritting my teeth, I jab the pen to the paper again.
Regular uncooked eggs. With their shells. Two seconds.
The light turns green, and I exhale slowly when I finally get two regular-ass eggs. Picking one up, I whack it on the counter, a bit more gently this time. Satisfied at the small crack in it, I finish opening it over the bowl.
My scowl comes back full force. Fucking eggshells are floating in it. Working my jaw hard, I empty the bowl into the sink, then pick up the last egg.
Deciding to boil this one, I put it in a pan and fill it with enough water to cover it. I press the heat rune on the stove and smile at it smugly.
Fucking easy.
With every passing minute, though, my smile becomes more inverted. Fuck. How long am I supposed to boil it for?
I glance at the clock in the living room. Four fifty-six. If I under boil it, I can always put it back – Except, no, I can’t. Because to check it, I’ll have to break it.
Exhaling sharply, I pick up the pen and pad again.
Six more regular uncooked eggs.
If I put them all in at once, then take one out every few minutes, I’ll eventually get a perfectly cooked egg. Nodding at my pure genius, I close the cabinet door, only to instantly curse.
Fuck. It isn’t even five o’clock in the morning.
It’s too early to wake my queen, especially since Fabia is still in there. The light turns green, but I fucking ignore it.
Gnashing my teeth, I turn off the stove, then head back to the sofa from Niflhel. Throwing on last night’s clothes, I walk towards the bedroom.
“Fabia,” I say, not bothering to knock. I’m certain she has been up all night, guarding the fucking door.
“Fuck off.”
“Gym, now. We need to talk.”
The door opens a moment later. She’s still in her guard uniform, having clearly not slept at all.
“Lead the way then.”
I glance over her shoulder, wondering if I can shove past without hurting her; Arienna won’t like –
The door starts to close.
“I’m going,” I snap, pulling my eyes off my queen. As soon as I step into the hall, Jace and Marrabel look at me.
Then Jace looks at Fabia; his eyes harden. “Richard –”
“I’m not going to kill her, Jace, so fuck off.”
“I might though,” Fabia mutters as she follows me down the hall.
Despite her frustration with me, she still hurries to open the door of the gym as we approach.
I don’t wait for her to clear the room before striding over to the weapons rack.
I think about grabbing one of the actual swords, wanting the rush of potentially dying as she swings for me, but I know Jace will never allow it.
The bastard’s most likely standing outside the gym, ready to barge in at the slightest ring of metal.
Picking up a set of double sticks, I toss them at Fabia. They’re different lengths to mimic the random sticks we’re forced to use when we lose our weapons in battle. One is the size of her arm; the other is a bit shorter.
Picking up one stick for myself, the shorter of the two from the other set, I make my way into the middle of the sparring area.
She swings the weapons in her hands, rotating her wrists as she shakes out her shoulders. Her eyes are red from lack of sleep, but they’re still sharp and full of rage.
I place one hand behind my back, deliberately pissing her off. But it is actually needed.
I’m used to sparring with Jace – or rather, getting my ass kicked by Jace, which means I never have to hold back. I don’t want to accidentally hurt my wife’s best friend and give her one more thing to be mad at me for.
“Cocky bastard.”
I shrug with the arm behind my back. “I thought you wanted to kill me?”
She charges, both sticks swinging fast. I dodge the first one aimed at my face, block the second that’s directed at my hip, then spin with the momentum and kick her in the chest. She stumbles back with a grunt, but she keeps the sticks up, protecting her body.
“Go into a fight mad, and you won’t come out of it.”
Glaring at me, she rushes forwards again. She swings the longer stick at my head from above, then the shorter one at my side. She beats at me rapidly. Blocking them, I step back as I lead her around the floor.
On the third set, once she starts expecting me to block, I drop low, twist sideways, and swipe my leg into her shins. She hits the mat with a solid umph.
But at least she’s kept hold of her weapons.
Rising, I sigh at her. “Go into a fight mad, and you won’t come out of it.”
She glares at me. “Did you hurt Arienna just to piss me off so you could give me this fucking lesson?”
It’s only because she’s my wife’s best friend that she gets an answer. “No.”
“So why’d you do it?”
I turn and step back from her, letting her rise as I swing my stick around in irritation. “She is not fit to be queen.”
“She would’ve learned,” Fabia says with a confidence that belongs to a child.
“Like you’ve learned?” I say softly as I pivot to face her. “You’re still having night terrors about that chef.”
Her face pales before she quickly locks her horror down. “Echo tell you that?”
“Echo tells me everything.” I tilt my head, recalling the picture on her desk. “Well, mostly everything.”
She snorts. “You talking about the photo? Jace hasn’t shut up about it.”
“And he won’t until he finds out who’s in it.”
She shakes her head. “He never will.”
Leaping forwards, she aims for my head again, this time with both sticks – set just far enough, I can’t block both at once.
I block the left. The right snaps into my shoulder.
I drop down with the momentum. Pivot and slam my weapon sideways into her chest. She stumbles back, then falls to her knees with a wheeze. Her weapons are still held tight.
I nod in approval. “Better.”
“Why am I here?” she grits out.
“Because thanks to you, I’m not in bed with my wife.”
She glares up at me as she hugs one hand to her chest. Pain brightens her silver eyes, making them almost look like moonlight. “That’s because of your actions, not mine.”
“You’re the one who told her she’s allowed to be upset.”
“She is.”
Of course she fucking is. I just don’t want her to be upset at me. “I could’ve made her understand my reasons if you hadn’t argued every fucking point.” I swirl my stick again, my body restless. “So when my queen wakes, you are going to convince her to not be mad at me anymore.”
Snorting, Fabia pulls my attention back to her as she rises to her feet. “I didn’t convince her to be mad at you. You did that all on your own. I just let her know she had the right to be mad.”
An irritating-as-fuck differentiation.
But one I can’t dispute.
As much annoyance as Fabia has caused in my life, she did it to protect Arienna. I’ll never punish her for that.