Chapter Twenty-Five
“Queen Valdis of Ironmoor has arrived, Your Majesty.”
Darragh straightened his jacket and glanced at Finn, who stood beside him in the courtyard - no nervous fidgeting, no stiff formality - just Finn, solid and present and a lot more like the man Darragh fell in love with.
The transformation over the past few days had been remarkable.
Not that Finn had become someone different, but that he’d stopped trying to.
“Ready?” Darragh asked.
“As I’ll ever be.” Finn smiled. “Let’s meet the difficult queen.”
They descended the steps together as Queen Valdis’s elaborate carriage rolled through the gates.
She emerged in a sweep of silk and disapproval, her gray hair arranged in that architectural style that probably required an engineering degree to achieve.
Her gaze swept across the courtyard with the glare of someone cataloging faults.
“Queen Valdis.” Darragh nodded just enough to show respect. “Welcome to Safe Harbor. May I present my husband, King Consort Finn.”
Finn nodded slightly deeper, as technically he ranked slightly below the queen. His nod wasn’t perfect, Darragh noted with private amusement, but he greeted the queen confidently. “We’re honored by your presence, Your Majesty. Your rooms overlook the harbor. I hope you’ll find them comfortable.”
“We shall see.” Valdis’s tone suggested she expected disappointment. “I trust my chef has been given adequate workspace?”
“The kitchens are at his disposal,” Finn confirmed. “Gordon, our head of household, will ensure he has everything he requires.”
Gordon materialized at the perfect moment, bowing to the queen. “If you’ll follow me, Your Majesty, I’ll show you to your apartments.”
As Valdis swept away, trailing servants and judgment, Finn exhaled slowly. “One down.”
“Seven more to go today.” Darragh squeezed his hand briefly. “You’re doing well.”
“I’m being myself. Turns out that’s easier than pretending.”
/~/~/~/~/
Queen Cressida arrived an hour later, warm, genuinely happy, and everything Queen Valdis wasn’t.
She expressed delight at the accommodations - Finn had specifically requested a ground-floor suite for her, remembering her trouble with stairs - and mentioned she’d heard wonderful things about the new king consort’s practical approach.
“You’ve made quite an impression,” she told Finn with a smile. “Word travels in diplomatic circles. They say you actually fix things yourself?”
Finn glanced at Darragh, who nodded encouragement. “I do, Your Majesty. I’m a carpenter by training. I find old habits die hard, despite wearing a crown on occasion.”
“How refreshing.” Cressida’s warmth seemed entirely sincere. “I look forward to getting to know you both better during the summit.”
Emperor Shen arrived along with a copy of his list of extensive dietary requirements and a serene expression that could’ve meant anything.
King Dimitri followed with his entourage of thirty-seven comfort specialists.
Both were polite, formal, and gave little away.
Darragh had met them at previous summits.
They were professional diplomats who revealed nothing until negotiations began, but that didn’t mean they missed anything.
The sun was lowering when the carriage bearing King Orwyn and Princess Marielle rolled through the gates.
Darragh felt Finn tense beside him, just slightly.
They’d discussed the princess. Marielle had been.
..a mistake, briefly. One dinner, years ago, when Darragh had still been on his marriage quest. She’d spent two hours explaining how her embroidery skills would enhance Safe Harbor’s cultural reputation.
He’d spent those same two hours planning his escape.
Finally, unable to stay polite any longer, he’d just got up, given the princess a brief bow, and left the room.
The summit would be the first time they’d met up since.
“King Orwyn.” Darragh greeted the man with honest respect. Orwyn was a solid ruler, practical and fair. His daughter was another matter entirely.
“King Darragh.” Orwyn’s handshake was firm. “Congratulations on your marriage. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting King Consort Finn?”
“Father, really.” Marielle emerged from the carriage in a cloud of perfume and silk. “Must we stand about in the courtyard? The wind is absolutely ruining my hair.”
Darragh watched Finn’s face. No irritation showed, no reaction beyond polite acknowledgment. “Princess Marielle. Welcome to Safe Harbor. Your rooms are prepared - I’m sure you’ll want to refresh yourself after the journey.”
“Oh, how thoughtful.” Marielle’s smile was sharp. “Though I must say, the charming rustic atmosphere is quite different from Tallridge. We don’t typically greet guests in courtyards. We have proper receiving rooms for such occasions.”
“We find the courtyard more welcoming,” Finn replied evenly. “It allows our guests to see the harbor immediately. The view is one of Safe Harbor’s greatest assets.”
“How provincial.” Marielle adjusted her gloves. “I suppose that’s the fashion here.”
King Orwyn’s expression tightened, but before he could speak, Finn gestured toward the castle entrance. “Gordon will show you to your apartments. Dinner begins at eight. We have sea shanties from our local performers tonight. I’m sure you’ll find that quite memorable.”
“Sea shanties.” Marielle’s laugh was light and cutting. “How... quaint.”
Darragh waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. “You handled that perfectly.”
“She’s trying to get under my skin.” Finn shrugged. “But she can’t, because I’m not pretending to be something I’m not. She can call it provincial all she wants. I know what Safe Harbor is, and I’m proud of it.”
Pride surged through Darragh’s chest. This. This was the man he’d married. Not the anxious, performing version who’d been trying to disappear into protocol, but the confident person who knew his own worth.
“Have I mentioned recently that I’m extraordinarily attracted to you?”
Finn’s grin was quick and held a hint of mischief. “Not since this morning.”
“That’s a grave oversight on my part.” Darragh caught his hand again, just for a moment. “We have an hour before we need to dress for dinner. Do you think we can sneak away?”
“Your Majesty.” Helena appeared from nowhere, her timing impeccable as always. “The kitchen needs final approval on the wine pairings, and the Harborside Singers want to confirm their performance order.”
“Apparently not,” Finn said wryly. “Duty calls.”
/~/~/~/~/
The great hall looked spectacular. Originally the staff had tried to match the formality some people - Thomas - believed important. But in the past week, all those mismatched efforts had been swept away and instead, Safe Harbor’s authentic beauty was on display.
Everything was simple and elegant. There were local flowers arranged on tables that had been spread out to encourage open conversation with people instead of table decorations. The windows stood open to let in the harbor breeze and the distant sound of waves.
Darragh stood at the head table with Finn, watching delegates file in.
Queen Valdis paused in the doorway, her expression unreadable as she surveyed the room.
Emperor Shen looked serene...again. Darragh had never played cards with the man and never intended to.
Queen Cressida was already smiling, chatting warmly with one of the other delegates.
Princess Marielle swept in wearing enough jewels to fund a small army, her gaze immediately cataloging everything with visible disdain.
Focusing on what was important, Darragh turned to the stage.
The Harborside Singers assembled near the windows - twelve men and women from the docks, wearing clean but simple clothes, holding no instruments.
They would share their voices in traditional song, which formed the authentic sound of Safe Harbor’s working heart.
Darragh caught their leader’s eye and nodded.
The first voice rose, clear and strong, carrying a melody that spoke of wind, waves, and home.
Others joined in, harmonizing in ways that needed no formal training, just years of singing together while they worked.
The sound filled the hall, beautiful and raw and completely unlike anything typically performed at diplomatic functions.
While Darragh loved it, he was watching the delegates carefully, and he noticed Aldric and Helena from their table doing the same.
Emperor Shen had closed his eyes, his serene expression deepening into something that looked like genuine emotion. King Dimitri’s fingers were tapping against his glass, keeping time with the rhythm. Several other delegates had leaned forward, smiling and clearly enjoying the performance.
Queen Valdis looked intrigued. Actually intrigued, her sharp gaze fixed on the singers with what might have been respect. Queen Cressida was openly delighted.
Only Princess Marielle looked unimpressed, whispering to her father with barely concealed disdain, in a way that could be considered rude among polite circles.
The singers moved through three songs, each one showcasing different aspects of Safe Harbor’s musical tradition. The final piece was haunting, a ballad about sailors lost at sea, and the hall fell completely silent except for those twelve voices.
When they finished, the applause was immediate and loud, filling the giant hall. Even some of the servants were clapping as the singers left the stage.
“Charming,” Marielle’s voice carried as the applause finally wound down. “Fishermen’s songs are quaint, but hardly appropriate for diplomatic events. One expects a certain level of sophistication at these gatherings, not tavern entertainment.”
The comment landed like a stone in still water. Darragh felt Finn tense beside him, but before either of them could respond, Queen Valdis turned in her seat. Her expression was cold enough to freeze the harbor.