Chapter Nineteen
“Your Majesty.” The footman bowed at Darragh’s office door. “The king consort’s companion from Winrone has arrived. He’s requesting an audience with His Grace.”
Darragh looked up from the shipping manifests he’d been reviewing. “Trent?” He’d met Finn’s closest friend briefly at the wedding, but they hadn’t had much chance to talk. “Where’s Finn now?”
“In the blue parlor with Lady Helena and Lord Aldric, reviewing seating arrangements for the summit opening banquet.”
Of course he was. Another meeting. Another three hours of Finn reviewing details that had already been reviewed twice.
Although Helena had mentioned that different things were going wrong, and no, it wasn’t Finn’s fault, there was no explanation for the issues either.
Darragh stood. “I’ll speak with Trent myself.
Have him brought to the small drawing room. ”
/~/~/~/~/
Trent didn’t bother with excessive formality when he entered. He bowed, yes, but his expression was serious, and his eyes met Darragh’s directly. “Your Majesty. Thank you for seeing me.”
“Just Darragh, please.” He gestured to a chair. “Finn’s tied up in another planning session. He should be done in a few hours.”
“A few hours.” Trent sat, but tension coiled through his shoulders. “How many of these sessions has he been doing?”
“Every day. Sometimes twice.” Darragh settled across from him, studying Trent’s face. There was concern there and an underlying worry. “You didn’t just come for a social visit.”
“No.” Trent leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but is Finn all right?”
The question landed like a punch. Darragh opened his mouth to give the standard reassurance, but Trent cut him off.
“I got a letter from him last week, and it didn’t sound like him at all.
It was formal and distant, like he was writing to a stranger.
Finn and I have been friends since we were seven years old.
We’ve never been formal with each other, not once.
” Trent’s jaw tightened. “So I’m asking again. Is Finn all right?”
Darragh could lie. Offer platitudes about adjustment and learning curves. But Trent deserved better than that. Finn deserved better than that.
“He’s struggling.” The admission cost him something.
“The summit is in six weeks, and there’s enormous pressure for it to succeed.
We’re in danger of losing a major trade agreement because the Northern Collective thinks we’re too unsophisticated to host the World Council.
Finn’s taken on the weight of proving them wrong. ”
“Finn’s handled pressure before.” Trent’s voice stayed level but firm.
“Building deadlines, village emergencies, impossible repair jobs where someone’s roof was caving in, and they couldn’t afford to lose their home.
He’s always been steady under stress. But in that letter – in all the letters he’s sent me - he sounded like someone I don’t recognize. ”
The confirmation of Darragh’s worst fears settled into his chest, heavy as stone. It wasn’t just him noticing the change. Finn had transformed so thoroughly that even his oldest friend saw a stranger.
“He thinks he has to be perfect,” Darragh said quietly. “He thinks that if he makes any mistakes, if he’s not the ideal king consort, it’ll cost the kingdom everything.”
“And you think that too?”
“I think the stakes are real. It’s not publicly known yet, but forty percent of our export market is hanging in the balance on whether we can prove we’re legitimate political players, not just merchants pretending at nobility.
” Darragh met Trent’s gaze. “I think Finn’s right that we can’t afford major mistakes right now.
But I also think he’s killing himself trying to be someone he’s not. ”
Trent sat back, his expression grim. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
They sat in heavy silence until a commotion in the hallway announced the end of Finn’s meeting - voices, then footsteps. The door opened, and Finn appeared, still in formal attire, his hair perfectly styled, his expression carefully neutral.
Then he saw Trent. For one heartbeat, Finn’s face transformed - genuine joy, unguarded and bright, and a smile Darragh hadn’t seen in weeks.
“Trent!” Finn crossed the room in three strides and pulled his friend into a tight embrace. “What are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Weatherby’s birthday party is tomorrow. I thought you might like some company for the trip home.” Trent returned the embrace, but over Finn’s shoulder, his eyes found Darragh’s. See? This is who he’s supposed to be.
Finn pulled back, and the mask slid into place again. Not completely - there was still warmth there, still happiness - but the guardedness returned. “I can’t go, I’m so sorry. I have summit preparations.”
“Mrs. Weatherby will be disappointed. But look at you, all fancy.” Trent’s tone aimed for teasing, but concern bled through. “Those are some serious clothes.”
“It’s court dress.” Finn smoothed his jacket self-consciously. “I have meetings.”
“All day, every day?”
“The summit is in six weeks.”
“Right.” Trent glanced at Darragh. “Your husband mentioned. Mind if we catch up somewhere private?”
/~/~/~/~/
Darragh watched them disappear toward Finn’s private sitting room, then forced himself to return to his work. They needed time alone. Trent might get through to Finn in ways Darragh couldn’t.
An hour later, he walked past the sitting room on his way to the council chambers. The door stood slightly ajar, and voices filtered through.
“…can’t afford to be myself.” Finn’s voice was tight with frustration. “Myself isn’t good enough for this.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Trent said bluntly. “You’re telling me the man Darragh married wasn’t good enough? Because he seemed pretty convinced you were exactly what he wanted.”
“He didn’t know what the summit would require. Neither did I.”
“So you’re not being yourself anymore.”
“I’m being what I need to be.”
Darragh kept walking. He couldn’t eavesdrop, even if every instinct screamed to intervene.
/~/~/~/~/
He found Trent in the gardens two hours later, standing beneath a sprawling oak tree and scowling at the perfectly manicured hedges.
“They’re too neat,” Trent said without preamble. “Finn would hate this. All these plants were tortured into geometric shapes instead of being allowed to grow properly.”
“My mother designed most of this garden. Finn likes the wild section on the east side.”
“Of course he does.” Trent turned to face him. “He’s miserable. You know that, right?”
The words hit harder coming from Trent than from his own observations. “Yes.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” Darragh moved to lean against the tree trunk.
“Every solution I consider makes it worse. If I tell him to stop preparing so hard, the summit still needs to be successful. If I tell him to be himself? The advisers are already concerned about his unconventional approach. I tell him I love him exactly as he is, but he already thinks I married someone who doesn’t fit in this world. ”
Trent studied him for a long moment. “Finn thinks he has to change everything about himself to be worthy of you. To be worthy of being king consort. And maybe you didn’t ask him to change, but you also didn’t prepare him for how brutal this world would be.”
The accusation stung because it was true.
Darragh had been so focused on Finn’s authenticity, so relieved to find someone who would be himself in a court full of performances, that he’d romanticized the whole thing.
He’d told Finn to be himself, promised it would be enough, never considering the practical difficulties.
“You told him to be himself,” Trent continued, voice hard, “but this court punishes authenticity unless you have enough power to force people to accept it. Finn doesn’t have that power.
Not yet. Maybe not ever, if he’s supposed to be the king consort instead of the king.
So he’s caught between who he is and who he needs to be, and it’s tearing him apart. ”
Darragh had no defense. Every word was accurate.
“I know I should have helped him more,” he said finally. “I could’ve taught him what he needed to know instead of just telling him he was perfect. If I’d given him actual tools instead of empty reassurance…”
“It’s a bit late for that now.” Trent crossed his arms. “Your fancy summit’s in six weeks. He’s already committed to this path of transforming himself into the perfect consort. I doubt he’d listen if you tried to stop him at this point.”
“Probably not.”
“So, yeah, I hope you have a spare room because I’m staying.”
Darragh looked up. “What?”
“I’m staying here until after the summit. I don’t care if it’s not proper protocol or whatever. Finn needs someone who knew him before all this, someone who can remind him who he actually is.” Trent’s jaw set stubbornly. “Someone who isn’t you.”
The last part hurt, but Darragh couldn’t argue. He’d lost the ability to reach Finn somewhere along the way. “Thank you.” The words felt inadequate. “Truly. He needs you.”
“He needs you, too.” Trent’s expression softened slightly. “He loves you. I could tell that from the first five minutes of watching you together. But love isn’t always enough when you’re drowning.”
“I know.”
They stood together in the manicured garden, two men who both loved Finn in different ways, both aware he was transforming into someone neither recognized.
“I tried to get him to show me what he’s working on,” Trent said after a moment. “I thought maybe I could help and take some of the pressure off. He relaxed a bit when we started reviewing the summit logistics together. At least when he’s focused on practical problems, he sounds more like himself.”
“That’s something.”
“It’s not enough, though.”
“No.” Darragh looked back toward the castle, toward the windows of Finn’s sitting room, where his husband was probably already buried in papers again. “Not nearly enough.”
/~/~/~/~/
“Your Grace should really rest.” Gordon appeared with tea just after midnight, his expression carefully neutral. “You’ve been working for eighteen hours straight.”
Finn looked up from the detailed breakdown of dietary requirements for each delegation, blinking bleary eyes. “Just finishing this section.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Gordon set the tea down and withdrew.
Trent sprawled in the chair across from Finn’s desk, long legs stretched out. He’d stayed even after Finn insisted he didn’t need company, settling in with his own book and occasionally making comments about Finn’s obsessive notetaking.
“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Trent observed now.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re wearing yourself to the bone.”
“Six weeks, Trent. Six weeks until representatives from seventeen kingdoms arrive here and judge whether Safe Harbor deserves its seat at the World Council.” Finn returned to his notes. “I can rest after.”
“Can you, though? Or will there be another crisis, another reason why you have to be perfect?”
Finn’s hand stilled on the page. “What do you want me to say? That I’m terrified I’ll ruin everything?
That every time I close my eyes, I see myself making some catastrophic mistake that destroys Darragh’s kingdom?
” His voice cracked. “I already know I’m not enough.
I’m just trying to become enough before it’s too late. ”
Trent moved to the desk, gripped Finn’s shoulder. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. The problem isn’t you - it’s this place that demands everyone pretend to be something they’re not.”
“Then I need to learn how to pretend better.”
“Is that what you want? To spend the rest of your life performing?”
“I want to not fail my husband.”
Trent opened his mouth, closed it again. Finally he squeezed Finn’s shoulder once more and stepped back. “Finish your section. But then you’re sleeping, even if I have to physically drag you to bed.”
“Darragh’s already in bed.”
“Then go be with your husband instead of with your paperwork.”
Finn glanced toward the door connecting his sitting room to their bedroom. Light still showed beneath it. Darragh was awake, probably reading. Or pretending to read while waiting to see if Finn would join him.
Guilt twisted in Finn’s chest. They’d barely spoken today beyond polite exchanges at meals and barely touched in days beyond chaste kisses goodnight.
But he still had three more delegation profiles to review.
“Soon,” Finn said. “I promise. Just let me finish this.”
Trent sighed but didn’t argue further. He settled back in his chair and returned to his book, a silent presence that kept Finn from being entirely alone.
/~/~/~/~/
Darragh heard them through the door. Trent’s frustration, Finn’s exhausted defenses, and the absence of the easy camaraderie they’d had at the wedding.
He’d thought about going in. About pulling Finn away from the desk and holding him until the tension eased.
But what right did he have? He was the one who’d created the damn situation.
He was the one who’d married Finn, knowing full well the difficulties ahead and then failed to properly prepare him.
Trent was right. Darragh had romanticized Finn’s authenticity, had loved it so much he’d been blind to how vulnerable it would make him in a world that valued performance over truth.
The door finally opened at nearly two in the morning. Finn slipped in quietly, clearly trying not to wake him, but Darragh had been lying awake for hours.
“I’m up,” he said softly.
Finn froze, then continued to the wardrobe where he changed into his nightshirt quickly and quietly. He slid into bed beside Darragh, maintaining a careful distance.
“How was your time with Trent?” Darragh tried.
“Good. He helped with some of the delegation logistics.”
“That’s good.”
Silence stretched between them, vast as an ocean.
Finn turned onto his side, facing away. His breathing evened within minutes…the sleep of pure exhaustion.
Darragh rolled onto his own side, watching the shape of his husband in the darkness. Even in sleep, tension threaded through Finn’s body. His hands clutched the blanket. His jaw stayed tight.
This wasn’t the Finn who’d laughed in the gardens. Who’d kissed Darragh senseless and talked about building projects with enthusiasm. Who’d admitted his fears but faced them with stubborn courage.
This was someone trying desperately to survive, to transform, to become worthy of a position he’d never wanted in the first place.
And Darragh had no idea how to reach him anymore.
He touched Finn’s shoulder gently, felt the warmth of him through the silk nightshirt. “I love you,” he whispered, knowing Finn couldn’t hear. “I’m sorry I didn’t make this easier. I’m sorry, I loved what you were without considering what this world would demand you become.”
Of course, Finn couldn’t hear him, and Darragh wasn’t sure if it would do any good if he could.