Chapter Seventeen
The trade minister’s voice droned on about timber export quotas, and Darragh forced himself to pay attention. Beside him, Helena scribbled notes while Marvin nodded at intervals, his reading glasses perched on his nose.
A sharp knock interrupted the presentation.
“Enter,” Darragh called, frowning. His secretary knew better than to interrupt scheduled meetings unless…
James appeared in the doorway, face drawn tight. “Your Majesty. Urgent correspondence from the Northern Collective.”
Darragh’s stomach dropped. The Northern Collective didn’t send urgent correspondence. They sent scheduled reports, routine updates, and the occasional polite letter about minor adjustments to shipping schedules - urgent meant crisis.
He took the sealed envelope, broke the wax, and scanned the contents.
Fuck.
“Clear the room,” he said quietly.
The trade ministers exchanged glances but obeyed, gathering their papers. Helena stayed, reading his expression correctly. Once the door closed behind the last minister, she spoke.
“How bad?”
“They’re threatening to suspend our trade agreement.
” Darragh handed her the letter. “They’ve been ‘encouraged’ by the Kingdom of Valdis to reconsider their partnership with Safe Harbor.
Effective immediately unless we can demonstrate” - he gestured at the letter - “our capacity for sophisticated diplomatic engagement.”
Helena read, her face paling. “Forty percent of our export market.”
“Gone.” Darragh moved to the window, staring out at the harbor. Ships dotted the water, loading and unloading cargo that might soon have nowhere to go. “Lost jobs. Failed businesses. We import grain from them every winter. Without that agreement...”
“Food shortages.” Helena set the letter down carefully. “What’s their real concern? This language about ‘sophisticated diplomatic engagement…’”
“The summit.” Darragh’s jaw clenched. “Valdis has been running a quiet campaign for months, telling anyone who’ll listen that Safe Harbor is too rough, too unpolished to be taken seriously.
Now they’ve convinced the Northern Collective that our hosting the World Council summit will embarrass the entire region. ”
“So if we prove them wrong…”
“The Northern Collective won’t dare pull out. But if we fail...” Darragh turned from the window. “Get Aldric, Thomas, and Marvin. Emergency council meeting. Now.”
/~/~/~/~/
Twenty minutes later, his four advisers sat around the council table, the letter from the Northern Collective laid out between them like a death sentence.
“We need to respond immediately,” Marvin said. “Reassure them that…”
“Reassure them with what?” Aldric interrupted. “Pretty words? They want proof. Actual evidence that we can host the summit without humiliating ourselves.”
Thomas leaned forward, fingers steepled. “Perhaps we could invite a Northern Collective representative to observe our preparations. Show them we’re taking this seriously.”
“That might work.” Helena made a note. “It would demonstrate transparency, let them see the level of planning we’ve…”
“It won’t matter if the summit itself fails.” Aldric’s voice was flat. “We can show them perfect planning documents all day long. If the actual event is anything less than flawless, Valdis wins, and we lose everything.”
Silence fell around the table.
Darragh felt the weight of their stares, waiting for him to solve this.
He’d spent five years as king navigating crises, finding solutions, and protecting his people.
But this threat was different. This threat had a timer attached - four months until the summit.
Four months to prove Safe Harbor belonged among the world’s political powers, not just as a convenient harbor for ships needing repairs.
“What are our weak points?” he asked. “Specifically.”
Helena consulted her notes. “The venue is solid. The Grand Hall renovations are on schedule. Catering contracts are established with the finest suppliers. Security protocols are being coordinated with the World Council’s requirements. Accommodation for delegates is arranged…”
“The problem isn’t logistics,” Thomas spoke quietly, and everyone turned to him. “Logistically, we can execute a perfect summit. The concern is perception.”
“Meaning?” Darragh kept his voice even.
Thomas chose his words with visible care. “Meaning that Valdis’s propaganda isn’t about our organizational capabilities. It’s about whether Safe Harbor and its leadership can project the sophistication and refinement expected at this level of diplomacy.”
Marvin shifted uncomfortably. “We’ve discussed this before. The king’s hands-on approach to governance is unusual, but…”
“Not the king.” Aldric’s voice cut through. “The king has established himself over the last five years. The world knows Darragh. They might find him unconventional, but they respect him.” He paused. “The concern is newer elements of our presentation.”
Darragh’s hands clenched under the table. “Say what you mean, Aldric.”
“King Consort Finn’s unconventional background will be scrutinized.” Aldric met his eyes steadily. “We need to be strategic about how we present ourselves. Every detail must be flawless. Every potential weakness must be addressed.”
“Finn isn’t a weakness.”
“I didn’t say he was.” Aldric’s tone remained even. “I said his background is unconventional. The world will watch closely. We need to ensure there are no missteps, no incidents that could be used against us.”
Helena cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should reconsider certain aspects of our current arrangements.”
“What arrangements?” Darragh’s voice had dropped to the dangerous quiet his advisers knew well.
“Only that the summit puts enormous pressure on everyone involved.” Helena spread her hands carefully. “We might consider adjusting roles, redistributing responsibilities to play to everyone’s strengths…”
“You want to sideline Finn.”
“We want to protect Safe Harbor,” Thomas said. “And protect Finn. The pressure he’s under is already significant. Adding this economic crisis on top of it...” He shook his head. “We’re suggesting we be thoughtful about how we utilize everyone’s capabilities.”
Darragh stood abruptly, chair scraping back. “Finn is my husband and king consort. His role isn’t negotiable.”
“No one is suggesting otherwise,” Aldric said. “But there are degrees of visibility. Ways to structure events that minimize potential for…”
“For my husband to embarrass us?” Darragh’s voice sharpened. “That’s what you mean. You want him kept out of sight, hidden away like some shameful secret.”
“We want perfection,” Aldric replied, unruffled. “Every detail flawless. This isn’t personal. This is about forty percent of our export market and thousands of jobs.”
The truth of it hit Darragh like a splash of cold water.
He sank back into his chair, rage draining into something heavier.
His advisers weren’t wrong. The stakes were devastating.
One mistake, one diplomatic incident, one embarrassing moment captured by the wrong observer, and Safe Harbor’s economy collapsed.
And Finn was still learning. He was getting so much better, but he still made mistakes. Years of protocol training just couldn’t be condensed into such a short time frame, no matter how intensive Jericho’s training was.
“I need time to think,” Darragh said finally. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow with response options for the Northern Collective.”
The advisers filed out, Helena squeezing his shoulder briefly as she passed. When the door closed, Darragh dropped his head into his hands.
What have I done? He’d married Finn because Finn was honest. Because the man could talk to him and make him laugh. Darragh truly believed those qualities mattered more than polish or training.
But maybe he’d been selfish. Maybe he’d put his own desires ahead of Safe Harbor’s needs. And now Finn would pay the price for Darragh’s mistake - bearing the weight of an entire kingdom’s economic survival on shoulders that were never meant to carry it.
/~/~/~/~/
Darragh found Finn in their private sitting room, surrounded by papers. Summit planning documents covered every surface - seating charts, menu proposals, security protocols, guest lists with detailed biographical notes scribbled in Finn’s careful handwriting.
“Hey.” Darragh closed the door behind him. “Busy?”
“Just reviewing.” Finn didn’t look up. “Jericho says I need to memorize everyone attending. Their countries, their positions, their family connections. He tested me this morning, and I only got seventy percent right.”
Darragh sat on the couch, watching his husband’s bent head, the tension in his shoulders. “Can we talk?”
“Is it about the summit? Because I’m working on…”
“It’s about the Northern Collective.”
That got Finn’s attention. He looked up, brown eyes sharp with concern. “What about them?”
Darragh explained as gently as he could. The threat to suspend trade. Valdis’s propaganda campaign. The forty percent of exports that were at risk. The timing tied directly to the summit’s success or failure.
With each sentence, Finn grew paler.
“So if I mess this up,” Finn said slowly, “I don’t just embarrass you. I destroy Safe Harbor’s economy. People will lose their livelihoods because I don’t know which fork to use or how to seat a count properly.”
“If WE mess this up,” Darragh corrected firmly. “This isn’t on you alone. We’re partners.”
“Are we?” Finn’s laugh was hollow. “Because it sounds like the entire kingdom is depending on the summit being perfect, and everyone knows I’m the weak link.
” He stood, pacing to the window. “Everyone already thinks I’m not qualified.
Your advisers, the court, and probably half the country.
Now I have to prove I am or people suffer. ”
Darragh moved to stand behind him. “You’re not…”
“Don’t.” Finn’s voice cracked. “Don’t tell me I’m fine or that it doesn’t matter or that just being myself is enough.
It’s not enough. It was never enough.” He turned, and Darragh saw something desperate in his eyes.
“You married me because I was honest and true to myself. But honesty and being frank about matters most people are polite about doesn’t feed people when the trade agreements collapse.
It doesn’t save jobs when our export market disappears. ”
“Finn…”
“I need to work.” Finn moved past him, gathering papers. “I need to make sure every single detail is perfect. No mistakes. No embarrassments. No diplomatic incidents that cost thousands of people their jobs.”
“Let me help.”
“You help by giving me space to learn what I should have known before you married me.” Finn’s hands shook slightly as he shuffled documents into order.
“Jericho’s coming by in an hour to drill me on Westmarch politics.
Tomorrow we’re covering proper forms of address for religious leaders.
I have flash cards for the major trade routes and economic partnerships between countries… ”
“You’re going to exhaust yourself.”
“Better exhausted than incompetent.” Finn met his eyes, and Darragh saw the wall there. The distance. His husband was pulling away, his armor going up. “I know what’s at stake now. I won’t let you down. I won’t let Safe Harbor down.”
Darragh wanted to pull him close, to promise everything would be fine, to take away the crushing weight of responsibility Finn had just shouldered.
But the words stuck in his throat. Because he couldn’t promise it would be fine.
He couldn’t guarantee the summit would succeed.
And any attempt to minimize the pressure might make Finn think Darragh didn’t believe in him.
“We’re in this together,” he said instead. “Whatever happens.”
Finn nodded, but Darragh saw him retreat further behind that wall. “Together. Right.” He returned to his papers, effectively dismissing Darragh. “I really do need to prepare. Jericho will be here soon.”
Darragh stood there, useless. His husband was spiraling into obsessive preparation, taking on responsibility for an entire kingdom’s economic survival, and Darragh had no idea how to stop it.
Any attempt to relieve the pressure might seem like doubt.
Any suggestion to slow down might look like he didn’t trust Finn to handle it.
He was trapped between wanting to protect Finn and needing Finn to succeed. Between his role as husband and his role as king.
“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” he said finally.
Finn just hummed acknowledgment, already absorbed in his notes.
Darragh left, closing the door softly behind him. In the hallway, he leaned against the wall, eyes closed.
I can’t believe I’m questioning whether or not I made the right choice now.
Not because Finn wasn’t everything Darragh wanted.
Not because Finn wasn’t capable or intelligent.
But because Darragh might have sentenced the man he loved to months of crushing anxiety and impossible expectations.
He might have put his own desires ahead of what was actually best for both Finn and Safe Harbor.
And the worst part was, he still didn’t know what the right answer would have been. Walking away from Finn would have felt like dying. But watching Finn destroy himself trying to be perfect might be worse.
The summit was four months away. He had four months to prove that marrying for love instead of politics hadn’t been the biggest mistake of Darragh’s reign.
He pushed off the wall and headed for his office.
There was work to do - responses to draft for the Northern Collective, contingency plans to develop, and economic analyses to review.
He couldn’t fix what was happening between him and Finn right now.
But he could damn well make sure that if the summit succeeded, it was because Darragh had done everything possible to support it.