Chapter Twenty-Three
“Gordon, I need the updated schedules for every delegation.”
Darragh stood in the doorway of his office, watching Finn work with Helena. Maps covered the desk, color-coded by delegation. The transformation from last night’s breakdown was remarkable - Finn’s eyes were clearer, his movements less frantic. But the tension still lived in his shoulders.
“Here.” Finn handed Helena a document. “I’ve revised the morning sessions to allow buffer time between presentations.”
“Smart.” Helena marked something on her notes. “Especially with Queen Valdis. She’s notoriously long-winded.”
Darragh crossed to the desk. “Let me see the delegation rooming assignments again.”
Finn looked up, surprised. “I thought you approved those yesterday.”
“I did. But Thomas had access to everything for months.” Darragh pulled the document toward him. “We’re checking everything together from now on. No assumptions.”
Something shifted in Finn’s expression - relief, maybe. Or gratitude.
Over the next hour, they worked through logistics as a team.
Darragh caught two subtle issues Finn had missed, but Finn spotted three things Darragh would have overlooked.
Helena provided context on historical tensions between certain kingdoms that influenced seating arrangements, and changes were made again.
But it was all done in good humor, and Darragh was pleased to see Finn’s confidence slowly returning.
“The Montclaire delegation arrives in four days,” Finn said, making notes. “They’ll need…” he trailed off, staring at his list. “Huh. I’ve already arranged everything. Wine, accommodations, dietary requirements.”
“Then cross it off.” Darragh leaned over, drew a line through the item. “You’ve done that work. Move on.”
Finn blinked. “But what if Thomas altered…”
“Gordon went back and double checked every wine delivery yesterday.” Helena tapped her own notes. “All thirty cases are correct. The Montclaire delegation will be perfectly accommodated.”
“Oh.” Finn’s hand trembled slightly as he crossed off the item. “Right.”
Darragh caught Helena’s eye. She gave him a subtle nod. It was clear she understood that Finn was still operating from a place of fear and still doubting every decision.
A knock interrupted them. Jericho entered, followed by two younger nobles whom Darragh recognized from court functions.
“Your Majesty. Your Grace.” Jericho bowed low. “We didn’t mean to interrupt, but after the troubles recently, Lord Matthias and Lady Portia volunteered to help with delegation liaison duties.”
Both nobles bowed to Finn first - a deliberate show of respect for his rank. Darragh appreciated Jericho’s coaching.
“We thought we could help bridge the gap,” Lord Matthias said.
“Many visiting delegations expect a certain level of formality that Safe Harbor doesn’t typically maintain.
If we can smooth those transitions and show them the friendly side of protocol and formality, they might all relax more, which could make everyone more comfortable. ”
Finn straightened. “What did you have in mind?”
“Just little things.” Lady Portia smiled. “While we respect that most of the meetings and events planned are for the higher-ranking members of each delegation, we could do other things such as offering to escort younger nobles to more casual evening events.”
“The idea being that even if the leaders are having a rough day, seeing their staff happy, relaxed, and enjoying their trip will hopefully encourage a more relaxed atmosphere for the powerful people, and an improved opinion on how this country operates.” Jericho grinned.
Darragh watched Finn relax the more Jericho spoke - not only was the idea brilliant, and likely not ever seen in a World Summit event before, but it was also playing to Finn’s strengths - caring about people regardless of their title.
“That would be invaluable.” Finn pulled out another document. “The evening reception on the second day has been worrying me. It’s meant to be casual, but I wasn’t sure how to structure it without it devolving into chaos.”
“Perhaps we can help with that.” Lady Portia accepted the document. “We’ll create a flow that feels natural but maintains the appropriate decorum for those who expect it.”
After they left, Finn sat back in his chair. “Jericho’s been busy.”
“He cares about you.” Helena gathered her notes and papers. “As do many people in this castle. You’re not as alone as you think, Your Grace.”
/~/~/~/~/
Trent appeared at lunch, covered in dust. “The east pavilion needed reinforcement.” He dropped into a chair without asking permission, that made Darragh mentally chuckle.
He was one of the few people who could get away with such informality around a king and king consort.
“The structural beams were sound, but the decorative elements were ready to fall on someone’s head. But we fixed it.”
“Did the grounds crew object to your intervention?” Finn asked.
“They were relieved.” Trent accepted wine from a servant.
“Thank you. It turns out they’ve been worried about it for weeks but didn’t know who to tell, because the problem hadn’t technically happened yet.
I’ve got them checking all the outdoor structures now, figuring it would be better to find problems before your important delegates arrive. ”
Darragh leaned forward. “You’ve organized the grounds crew?”
“Someone had to.” Trent shrugged. “Finn’s been drowning in paperwork, you’ve been handling political nightmares, and the crew wanted to help but had no direction. I gave them a checklist. They’re working through it.”
Finn laughed - the first honest laugh Darragh had heard in days. “You’ve been here mere days and you’ve reorganized my staff?”
“Your ground staff wanted organizing. They just needed someone who spoke their language.” Trent grinned. “Besides, it’s what I do. Finn fixes roofs, I fix systems.”
Over lunch, Trent reported on physical preparations with the same thoroughness Finn brought to documentation. Garden paths were cleared and reinforced. Outdoor lighting was tested and repaired. Servant quarters were inspected for adequate accommodations for visiting staff.
“The kitchens are having a moment about the menu.” Trent grimaced. “Apparently Queen Valdis has opinions about fish courses.”
“Of course she does.” Finn pulled out yet another document. “Her dietary requirements are three pages long.”
“The head cook wants to murder someone.” Trent accepted more wine. “I suggested focusing on what she can eat instead of complaining about restrictions. A revolutionary concept, I know, but it seemed to work.”
Darragh caught Finn smiling at his friend. Some of the exhaustion had lifted from his face. Having Trent around really helped Finn remember who he was before he married Darragh. And that was important to Darragh, too.
“Thank you.” Darragh met Trent’s eyes. “For helping. And for staying.”
Trent’s expression softened. “He’s my best friend, and for a king, you’re not so bad either. Where else would I be?”
/~/~/~/~/
By evening, Darragh ordered dinner sent to their chambers. No formal dining room, no servants hovering. Just the two of them in their sitting room with simple food and privacy.
Finn looked surprised when he arrived to find Darragh arranging plates himself.
“What’s all this?”
“Dinner.” Darragh pulled out a chair. “Just you, me, and food - no servants, protocols, summit discussions, or anything else of that nature required.”
Finn sat slowly, like he wasn’t sure the casualness was allowed, and Darragh reminded himself Finn had spent a lot of weeks learning all about protocol just to please him.
Darragh served the food - roasted chicken, vegetables, and fresh bread.
Nothing fancy and definitely nothing that required navigating twelve pieces of silverware.
Just a normal evening meal for two men after a hard day’s work.
“This is nice,” Finn spoke up after they’d been eating for a while. His voice was quiet and still a bit unsure, but he was talking. “I’d forgotten meals could be just…nice.”
“We used to talk when we first met.” Darragh refilled Finn’s wine. “About things that mattered. Things that had nothing to do with kingdoms or councils.”
“I’m not sure I remember how.” Finn attempted a smile. “Every thought in my head for weeks has been about the summit.”
“Then talk about something else.” Darragh leaned back. “Tell me about the village hall roof. Trent mentioned it still needs work.”
It was like flipping a switch. Finn’s face brightened immediately.
For the next twenty minutes, he described the structural challenges of the old hall, how water had compromised the main beams, and his plans for reinforcement that would last another fifty years.
His hands moved as he talked, sketching invisible beams in the air.
Darragh just listened, watching his husband come alive talking about something he loved. This was the man he’d married - practical, competent, passionate about making things work properly.
But just as quickly, Finn’s enthusiasm faded. “I miss it,” he said with a sigh. “I miss working with my hands, fixing and building things, and seeing those immediate results.”
“The summit will end.” Darragh reached across the table and laced their fingers together. “And when it does, you’re going to take a week and fix that damn roof and any other roof that’s leaking too. No arguments.”
Finn squeezed his hand. “You’d let me?”
“Let you?” Darragh laughed. “For one thing, while I haven’t shown my support for it lately, you are your own person, and you can do what you like.
As for going to Winrone for a week, I’ll probably join you.
I used to help build ships before I became king, and I miss that, too.
We can let the advisers call it whatever, but I think doing a week like that every few months is a really great way to get out and show the people we can work, just like they do. ”