Chapter 14
Lor
I’d come to the castle kitchens, ready to get into yet another argument with my wife, let her know I didn’t appreciate these games she was playing. Then I’d overheard her speaking with Elowyn, opening up to our castle chef more than she’d ever opened up to me.
Aoife never spoke about her time as a slave, not with me anyway, and I’d leaned against the outside of the door, soaking up the simple story she told about how she delivered bread to the other slaves in secret.
It was brave and fearless. Something she no doubt would have been punished for by Fairwitch had the godwitch found out.
But there was something else, a longing in her voice, a sadness, almost, that I didn’t understand.
But I found myself wanting to. The only emotion I ever got from Aoife was scorn or anger, never anything else.
That story had melted my ire enough that I’d walked into the kitchen with my defenses down, having learned just a little more about my wife, tucking the piece of information away, holding onto it like a rare stone.
She’d given me instructions and let me help.
We’d spent hours baking, barely talking. I was afraid if we spoke any more it would only lead to another argument, and then I’d never get the chance to tell Aoife I’d play her game, but only if she played mine.
Finally we were done. A large woven basket sat on the floor, full of small loaves of bread.
All different kinds: sweet bread, rosemary, sesame, and even a bread with chocolate swirls.
We’d spent nearly the entire day doing this, and I was feeling on edge, itching to get back to the real world, to my real duties.
Arthon had taught me the importance of this, of laying out expectations and rules and following them, even if you didn’t like them. That was part of being a good leader. Making sacrifices, rising above the noise and being the example everyone else could follow.
Aoife hummed as she slipped on oven mitts.
That wasn’t the only reason I was on edge today.
I was also suspicious. I didn’t understand what Aoife was playing at.
The dance had no doubt been to anger me, and I was irritated by this bread-baking interruption, irritated that Aoife refused to follow any rules set forth by our manifesto.
Yes, the manifesto had been written by Fairwitch, and I understood why Aoife wouldn’t want to follow it, why she’d want it rewritten.
But she didn’t understand the huge undertaking that would require.
That manifesto guided every single part of our society, and maybe it was flawed, maybe it did need to be stripped down completely and redone, but that was not something that could happen overnight.
It certainly wasn’t something we could afford to focus on right now when we had bigger problems like the brotherhood to worry about, like merging two cultures, like me and Aoife not able to agree on anything.
You’re not doing enough, Lorcan. If you were, the brotherhood would already be destroyed. Your people would be safe, and then you could focus on rewriting the manifesto.
My jaw clenched as I willed that voice away. “Maybe one day we can revisit this—”
“It’s always one day. Never now. Not for things that matter to me.
” Aoife shoved past me, taking the last loaf from the oven with her huge blue mitts and dropping it into our basket as she turned, and the waning sunlight hit her face.
Her russet skin glowed, her round cheeks slightly pink.
She reached up to undo the white apron that hung over her sleeveless tunic, her teeth gritting.
I realized she couldn’t undo the knot. “Here,” I said. “Let me.”
“No, I don’t need your help—” she started, but I was already behind her, my fingers undoing the knot that tied the apron around her neck.
My knuckles brushed the skin under her hairline, and she let out a shudder, stepping away and spinning to face me. “Thank you. How strong are you?” she asked, eyeing my arms.
“I—what?”
She rolled her eyes, bending over, exposing the top of her round breasts underneath her tunic. Her undergarment pushed them up, and heat stirred my blood, such an unfamiliar feeling around my wife.
Aoife straightened, eyeing me with an odd expression, one I couldn’t read. She nodded toward the door that led to the castle gardens. “Let’s go. We have a lot of bread to deliver.”
With that she turned, and I quickly ran ahead of her and down the short set of stone stairs to get the door. I opened it as she marched past me, arms full.
I chased after her, and it finally dawned on me what we were doing. She was delivering bread. Like she had in that story she’d told Chef Elowyn, but why had she wanted me to come along for this?
“I can carry that,” I said.
Her golden eyes crinkled at the corners as she shoved the basket into my stomach. “Good, I’m glad you’re making yourself useful since you almost ruined half our batches.”
I winced. “I’m not a baker. That’s why I stick to what I’m good at.”
We walked along the winding stone path that led through the gardens, tall flowers lining both sides, along with trees of all varieties. Aoife reached up and plucked an apple from a branch, munching on it as we walked toward the tall gates that led out to the city.
I blew out a breath, trying to temper my growing agitation. I wanted to get whatever this charade was over with. I’d be up all night now, making up for lost time. I had documents to review, a new council proposal to go over, not to mention a proposal of my own to write. And a prisoner to visit.
I’d neglected him lately, and I couldn’t any longer.
Meanwhile, Aoife was playing baker, doing godwitches knew what to get under my skin.
Unfortunately it was working.
“Are we almost done?” I asked as she pushed open the iron gates, and we emerged on the cobblestone road that wound around Fairwitch Isle.
“No,” she said with a saccharine smile, taking another bite of her apple.
She walked toward the back of the castle where stone and wooden homes dotted the forested area.
We’d had to erect a number of new homes for the Fair Folk, who had been used to living among the forest before our city landed right on their mountaintop years ago.
Fairwitch Isle had moved many times over the years as a way of protection.
“Lor.” Aoife had stopped, staring at me with wide eyes.
“What?” I snapped, my gaze clearing as the memories faded.
“You’re clutching that basket so tight you’re going to crush it and ruin all the bread.”
I looked down to see my arms squeezing the basket so tight it was indeed squishing our baked goods. “Sorry. Where are we going?” I asked as we walked off the cobblestone road and toward a home planted right in between tall, thin trees with leafy green canopies.
She gestured at the small wooden door. “This is our first stop.” She knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal a little girl with a brace on her foot.
The little girl who’d broken her ankle today.
Her whole face brightened when she saw Aoife and the basket full of bread. “Is that for me?” she asked, looking longingly at the chocolate loaf perched on top.
“It is,” Aoife said, leaning over and tapping the girl on the nose. “I heard you took a little tumble today.”
The girl’s lips turned down into a pout. “Healer Enid said I won’t be able to run for six whole weeks.”
“That’s too bad,” Aoife said in a soft voice I’d never heard.
She reached up and grabbed the loaf from the top of the basket, handing it to the little girl.
“Do you think some chocolate might make you feel better?” The girl nodded eagerly, smiling to reveal two front teeth missing. “Thank you, Your Majesties.”
She shut the door, and Aoife and I walked out, Aoife leading me to house after house, serving bread to both Fair Folk and mortals alike.
We served an older woman who had trouble getting out, one of the Fair Folk who was celebrating their name day, a family who’d been struck ill with some kind of virus, and lastly, Niamh, who was experiencing horrible nausea with her pregnancy, and the only thing she could stomach was the flavor of lemon.
She took the lemon loaf gratefully, smiling up at me, her green eyes shining bright as she held her rounded stomach.
“This little one is causing a lot of trouble, but they’re already so loved.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been so sick,” I said, looking down at my brother’s wife, her pale skin ashen and gray, purple circles under her eyes.
I hadn’t even known how much she was suffering.
Wolfe hadn’t said anything, and I’d been so busy I hadn’t noticed.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t said anything.
Because he knew how much I was already taking on.
Niamh stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. “It’s nice seeing you both out together, visiting your people.” A sly smile spread across her lips that I ignored. “I hope this is something we get to see more often?”
“We hope so,” Aoife said from beside me, and my head snapped to her. I couldn’t keep putting off my duties for things like this. Yes, it had been nice greeting citizens, handing them loaves of bread, but in the end, this wasn’t what would make our community truly thrive.
Niamh shut the door, and the empty basket hung from my grip as Aoife and I walked back toward the castle.
“Your next invitation will be coming soon,” she said.
“Aoife, I don’t know what you’re doing, what you’re trying to accomplish with this, but you can’t just expect me to drop everything and bend to your will.”
“Why not?” She stopped and faced me, all the softness I’d seen from her hardening as she scowled and planted her hands on her hips. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing for you?”
“For Fairwitch Isle,” I said, my shoulders tensing as I sensed another argument coming on.
“And what do you think this was about?” She gestured toward all the houses we’d visited today. “Your people need to see you, to know you. To know me.”
“They need to have a leader who gets things done,” I said and sighed. “What you did today was amazing, Aoife. It was kind and wonderful. But we have serious problems that need to be addressed.”
“Like what?” she asked, nostrils flaring.
That was the perfect segue into what I wanted to tell her. “It’s time you find out.” I set the basket down and faced her.
She backed away a step. “If this is another ploy to control me . . .”
I held up a hand. “It’s not. I want you to be involved.” I paused, ready to forge ahead with my plan. “I’ll do everything you ask of me in the next month.”
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with what’s already on the schedule. We have weekly meetings with council members, the royal guard, city business owners, the castle staff. I expect you to attend all of them.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Why?” she asked. “Because you think that will scare me away? You think I’ll come to all these meetings and be so overwhelmed that I’ll just quit?”
That wasn’t what I hoped at all. I hoped the opposite. That she’d come and finally see how hard I was working to keep our community safe and thriving. I hoped she would finally understand where I was coming from, and maybe, just maybe be the queen I needed her to be.
But she didn’t need to know that. If I said it, it would likely just offend her or she wouldn’t believe me. I might as well play into this narrative that she’d created that we were enemies, that we were both playing the same game. In some twisted way, that seemed to be what she wanted.
I stayed silent, and she huffed. “Fine, Lor. I’ll attend your meetings. Have the schedule sent to Meera.”
“You already have it.”
She pressed her lips together. “Very good, then. I’ll come to whatever is on the schedule as long as you participate in everything I put on the schedule.”
This was going to be a long month, but hopefully by the end of it, we could finally put all this past us and just work together. I wouldn’t have the energy to keep fighting my wife.
She stuck out her hand, and I looked down at it.
“Do we have a deal?” she asked.
I took her hand, rough against mine and squeezed it gently, a jolt running through me at the simple, simple contact, the same way I’d felt something earlier when Aoife had laid her hand over mine in the kitchen.
I was starved for touch, clearly, certainly not getting any of it from my wife.
Or anyone else. Another problem for another day.
“We have a deal,” I said.