CHAPTER 43 CALLYN
CALLYN
In what should come as a surprise to no one, Alek is a miserable patient.
Especially since he keeps refusing to allow magic to heal him.
“No magic,” he said in Briarlock, when the field surgeon was cleaning the gouges and puncture wounds he must have been ignoring for hours.
“No magic,” he murmured to the queen, when they were stitching him closed, and the surgeon finally shoved a rag of sleeping ether over his face. “No magic,” he said to me when he woke.
“No magic,” he grunted when we rode in a carriage back to the Crystal Palace. I’m sure every bump made his wounds ache.
“I know,” I said soothingly, using the same voice I used on Nora when she had a fever last winter. “No more magic. Never again.”
But of course I used magic. I saw how filthy his wounds were when they cut away his tunic. I saw how pale his skin was. His dark trousers were soaked with blood. I couldn’t believe how long he was standing upright. The damn fool is lucky to be alive.
I keep waiting for him to tell me he needs to return to his House, because I’m certain he has things to do, but he hasn’t left the palace.
And I . . . haven’t really left his side.
He’s different now. He still has an edge, but it’s not the same as it was before.
It’s little flares of vulnerability that I don’t expect, like when Nora comes to see me, and he tells her a rather charming story about his childhood.
It’s the tenor of his voice when he speaks to the servants.
It’s the way he apologized to Verin for any suspicion, and it carried a genuine note that seemed to lighten the tension between them.
It’s the way he speaks to me. No challenges. No jabs. No belligerence.
It’s not quite softness, but I don’t think I’d want softness. It’s . . . it’s ease. Comfort.
Then again, maybe he’s just in a lot of pain.
After a week in the palace, he’s well enough to walk in the gardens, though he complains about it the whole time.
“It’s entirely too hot,” he whines. “Surely we could have done this at daybreak, Callyn.”
“There, there,” I say, patting his hand. “I’ll get you back for your nap soon.”
He almost scowls— but then he laughs.
And then, without warning, he pulls me close and kisses me.
The sudden motion steals my breath, because I didn’t see it coming. For all the time we’ve spent together since our moments together in Briarlock, he hasn’t kissed me here in the palace, and my knees go a bit wobbly. I clutch at him.
Alek makes a small sound. At first I think it’s passion— but then I realize it might be pain.
“Oh!” I say, letting him go at once. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“You’re worth it,” he says— very soft, very simple.
My knees almost go weak again. “I might actually miss you when you have to go home,” I say.
His eyes widen a bit, and his tone turns serious. “I think you’ll have me around for a while,” he says. “That was quite a large army the Truthbringers amassed— and they know I turned against them in the end. Verin may have captured most of them, but likely not all.”
That’s sobering. “You think someone would come after you?” I say.
He nods. “I expect it, Callyn. We survived, but while the king is on the throne, this isn’t over.”
“So . . .” I stare at him. “What does that mean?”
“For the king and queen, I have no idea. But for me, I likely cannot return to my House. Not for some time.” He gives an aggravated sigh. “Perhaps I’ll have to settle in Emberfall.”
He sounds so disgusted that I laugh, and I rise up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Somehow you’ll survive.”
I meant for it to be a peck, but he catches my waist and makes it more. “Somehow I’ve made it this long,” he says against my lips. “Those fools over the border almost have me believing in fate.”
“Ah . . . at the risk of interrupting,” the queen says from behind us, her tone a bit droll. She clears her throat.
I flush, then draw back, putting some distance between me and Alek. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” As I turn, I realize she’s not alone. The king is with her, their hands loosely entwined.
The king hasn’t left her side since the moment we returned to the palace.
“Ah, forgive us,” Alek says.
“You’re not the first couple to steal a kiss in the gardens,” the king says, and the queen swats him on the arm.
But he catches her hand and kisses her knuckles, and all the teasing melts right out of her expression.
It’s such a complete shift from the brutal political tension that existed between them for so long.
For an instant, I wonder if we should give them some privacy.
Maybe it’s not just Alek. Maybe we’re all a bit changed after what happened.
“I was looking for you,” the queen says to me.
“Oh!” I say. “Does Sinna need me—”
“No. Well— perhaps. As you know, tensions are still . . . very high. The king and I are planning to leave the palace for a time. With Sinna.” She pauses. “And we were hoping you and Nora would consider remaining with us.” She pauses. “To help.”
Beside me, Alek goes very still.
My heart thumps. “For how long?” I say.
“For . . . six months,” says the queen. She looks a bit pale. “Possibly . . . possibly a year.”
“Possibly longer,” adds the king— and they both exchange a meaningful glance.
I look between them. My mouth has gone dry.
“You’re hiding,” Alek says, and his voice is hushed. A month ago, his tone would have been full of accusation— but now it’s just full of surprise.
King Grey frowns, then sighs. “Yes. Matters have changed, and we will announce a tour of Syhl Shallow and Emberfall. A chance to revisit our people. We will have couriers send word of our visits to distant cities, and we will arrange letters to and from Prince Rhen and Princess Harper talking about our adventures and the people we have met. Rhen has been acting as regent in Emberfall for quite some time, so that will continue . . .”
“And Verin will act as regent here,” says the queen. “Until we can determine that the prejudices against magic have settled. I have spoken with Igaa. We are hopeful that we can spin a story that the scravers reclaimed their magic— though there is still so much fear to go around.”
Alek studies them both. “But you will not really go on a tour,” he finally says.
The king hesitates, and I realize it’s possible he may not want to admit this to Alek— the man who once plotted against him.
But I know how much Alek risked to protect the queen in the end— and how much he may have lost, if he can’t return to his own home either. Perhaps the king realizes the same, because he eventually says, “No. We will settle somewhere privately.”
I look between them and wet my lips. “Where?”
“We would remain close to the palace,” says the king. “We do not want to be too far from military force if we are discovered.”
“Anyone in the Crystal City would know the queen,” says Alek. “It’s too much of a risk.”
“Not that close,” says the king. He looks at me. “We were considering Briarlock.”
I gasp. “But—”
“It’s small,” says the queen, as if I’m about to protest. “And we aren’t known there. Your bakery was set a ways off from town. We thought perhaps we could build a small house nearby—”
“You can have the bakery,” I cry. Then I notice that she really does look very pale. “Your Majesty— do you need to sit down?”
“I’m fine, Callyn.” She rests a hand over her abdomen. “I haven’t been sleeping lately.”
The king brushes a kiss along her forehead and murmurs something I can’t hear.
“Why wouldn’t you take residence at Ironrose?” says Alek. “Surely you could be better protected.”
“Perhaps,” says the queen. “But after everything that happened, I would rather be somewhere private for a time.” Her expression turns a bit pained, and she looks up at the king. “I think . . . I think . . . we shouldn’t spend too much time in the sun.”
“Of course,” he says gently. They turn back toward the palace.
I stare at them, confused— and worried. Is she ill?
But then I think of the other moments we’ve sat together over the last few months, when she wouldn’t eat, or she only sipped at her tea, or she claimed to be feeling off.
I think of the child they lost, and how it drove them apart— and, once the king was gone, how desperately she wanted him back.
I remember when I first met them, how I was so intimidated by their roles, but once the royalty was stripped away, they were really just a young family struggling with grief and loss and doing their best to move past it.
Queen Lia Mara is leaning against the king now, walking slowly back toward the palace. Her hand is still over her abdomen.
To help, she said.
“Oh,” I whisper.
“But why?” Alek calls, completely clueless. “Surely you would be safer at Ironrose—”
The queen turns, her expression aggrieved. But instead of snapping at him, she throws up on the king’s boots.
The king catches her hair, drawing it back from her face in a practiced motion. He doesn’t seem surprised at all. But he looks back at Alek, who’s stopped short, his expression shocked.
“That’s why, Alek,” he says dryly. “That’s why.”