Chapter 11 Sasha #2
“The predictability. Every plant is in its proper place, responding to care in expected ways.” I paused, recognizing how that sounded. “That probably seems boring compared to wild fae gardens.”
“Not at all.” Dominic refilled my wine glass. “It sounds like exactly what someone carrying enormous responsibility would need. A space where everything makes sense.”
He actually understood why I craved structure and control without making me feel diminished for it.
“What about you?” I asked, wanting to shift focus. “What was it like growing up here?”
His expression flickered. “Complicated. My mother was an excellent queen, but ruling took most of her energy. And my father…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “My father was banished from the kingdom when I was fifteen.”
I set down my fork, giving him my full attention. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been difficult.”
“He was unfaithful to my mother. Cheated with another woman in a very public way that humiliated both her and the court. She inherited the crown, not him. He was her consort.” Bitterness edged his voice.
“Mother had no choice but to banish him. He lives on the eastern border now with the other woman. I haven’t seen him since. ”
The parallel so close to my own age when my parents died wasn’t lost on me. That was an age of loss for both of us.
“And then your mother abdicated when you were twenty?” I asked.
“Yes. She said I was ready, that the court needed fresh leadership.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m still not entirely sure she was right about that.”
“The court adores you.”
“They adore the performance I give them. The charming king who makes it all seem effortless.” He met my gaze. “But you’ve seen past that already, haven’t you?”
The vulnerability in his admission made my throat tighten. “You’re thoughtful and serious when you’re alone. You care deeply about your people and your responsibilities.”
“And which version do you prefer?” he asked.
The question felt loaded with meaning.
“I prefer the real you. Whichever that is.”
His expression softened. “A diplomatic answer.”
“It’s an honest one.” I reached across the table to touch his hand. “You don’t have to perform for me, Dominic. I’d rather know the man beneath the crown.”
His fingers curled around mine. “Even if that man is terrified he’s not interesting enough without the fake charm?”
“Especially then.” I squeezed his hand before pulling back, aware of how intimate the gesture had been. “Though I should mention that your taste in court personalities is deeply questionable.”
His laugh burst out. “Oh? Should I not have Lord Primrose and Lady Daphnie competing for who loves whom more?”
“They referred to me as a ‘delicate flower in the garden of matrimonial bliss.’”
“That sounds restrained for them, actually.” Dominic’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Last month they held a public poetry reading where they each recited seventeen verses about the other’s magnificence. In matching outfits.”
My smile rose. “Seventeen verses each?”
“I had to sit through all thirty-four. It was excruciating.” He leaned back in his chair. “Though not as excruciating as when Lord Turren decided the best way to honor the spring equinox was a fashion show featuring twenty-four costume changes. For himself. We all had to watch.”
I started laughing. “How is that even possible?”
“Fae magic and an alarming dedication to personal appearance.” Dominic grinned. “He enlisted servants to help with quick changes behind screens positioned around the throne room. There was an intermission halfway through.”
The absurdity of it made me laugh harder. “And Lady Edwina with her divination stones?”
“Ah yes. A month ago she predicted that the castle would be visited by ‘three wise swans bearing messages of profound transformation.’” He paused for effect. “We ended up with two confused geese who wandered in from the pond and attacked the kitchen staff.”
“That’s not even close,” I managed between laughs.
“She insisted it still counted because geese and swans are both waterfowl, and two is almost three.” His expression turned mock-serious. “She insisted it was all about the interpretation.”
I wiped tears from my eyes, my belly sore from laughing.
“You’re good at making people laugh,” I said when I’d caught my breath. I met his gaze. “It’s not a performance, Dominic. It’s a gift.”
His expression shifted, looking vulnerable and pleased at the same time. “Thank you for saying that.”
The seeds are taking root whether the gardener wills it or not, Savory said from her perch on the balcony. Soon they’ll break through the soil and stretch toward the sun.
I’d almost forgotten she was here.
“Savory has opinions about our conversation,” I said, shooting the raven a look.
“I thought so from your expression. What’s she saying?”
“Nothing helpful. She’s making unnecessary observations about things that are perfectly normal.”
Unnecessary? Savory ruffled her feathers. I’m providing wisdom about the natural progression of attraction and connection. The oak doesn’t question its growth toward the light.
“The oak also doesn’t have a judgy bird commenting on everything we say,” I muttered.
Dominic’s laugh rang out. “I like her.”
At least someone appreciates my insights, Savory said. Perhaps I should share my observations about how your emotional state is affecting the plants in this room. Or how you’ve smiled more in the past hour than I’ve seen in months. Or—
“Don’t you have bugs to hunt?”
Her beak lifted. Are you dismissing me?
“I’m suggesting that you might enjoy some fresh evening air and abundant insect life in the gardens below.”
Ah. The human equivalent of ‘I’d like privacy with my mate.’
“That’s not—we’re not—” I fumbled for words while Dominic watched. “Just go eat bugs, Savory.”
Very well. She spread her wings with exaggerated dignity. But remember, hiding in darkness produces stunted growth.
With that parting wisdom, she took wing and disappeared into the twilight.
Silence settled over the room.
“She’s very wise,” Dominic said, his tone carefully neutral.
“She’s very nosy,” I said, but without heat. “And she makes everything more complicated than it needs to be.”
“Does she, or does she just say what you’re trying not to think about?”
The question hit too close to truth for comfort. I busied myself with my food, trying to regain some equilibrium.
Dominic poked at his meal as well, but something had changed. With Savory gone, we existed in a bubble of firelight and privacy that felt both wonderful and terrifying.
“I want to be honest with you,” Dominic said after a moment. “About something that’s been worrying me.”
I immediately started cataloging possibilities. Court problems, magical threats, and political complications first in my mind. “What is it?”
“I sort of already mentioned it, but I’m afraid that once the giggling stops and the plants revive and the festival is successful…
” He paused, his jaw working. “I’m afraid you’ll realize I’m just an ordinary king managing daily court life.
No mysteries to solve together, no emergencies requiring your brilliant strategic mind. Just me.”
The vulnerability in his admission made my chest ache. “Dominic—”
“I know it’s unfair to say this after one day of marriage,” he said, the words coming faster. “But I think you’re remarkable, and I worry that the only interesting thing about me right now is the problems we’re solving together.”
I stared at him, pieces clicking into place. He was afraid of the same thing I was, that this connection between us was only circumstantial, born from the problems we were facing rather than genuine compatibility.
But I’d spent time with him. Watched him care for dying plants with gentle magic, navigate his sometimes-ridiculous court with patience and humor, and show thoughtfulness in everything from lunch delivery to dinner preparation.
“You’re wrong,” I said.
He looked up, hope and uncertainty warring in his expression.
“The most interesting thing about you isn’t the problems we’re solving.
” I chose my words carefully, suspecting this admission could shift something between us.
“It’s the way you notice when someone might skip lunch because they’re absorbed in work.
The way you speak encouragement to plants that can’t answer back.
How you make your court members feel valued even when they’re being ridiculous. ”
“Sasha—”
“I came into this marriage expecting a political arrangement,” I said, needing to get it all out before I lost my nerve.
“A strategic alliance where we’d work together professionally and maintain polite distance.
I told myself that was safest, that anything more would be a distraction from my responsibilities. ”
“And now?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Now I’m terrified because I’m realizing I might want more than that.” The admission felt like jumping off a cliff with no broom to fly. “And I don’t know how to want that without losing myself in it.”
Dominic rose, moving around the table to where I sat. He didn’t touch me, just stood close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.
“What if wanting more doesn’t mean losing yourself?” he asked. “What if it means finding parts of yourself you’ve kept hidden because they felt too risky?”
I looked up at him, this man who I’d married as a stranger and who somehow already saw through my carefully constructed walls.
“I don’t know how to be both the strategist everyone needs and someone who feels things.”
“Maybe you don’t have to choose.” He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Maybe being both is what makes you extraordinary.”
The touch sent warmth cascading through me. Around the room, I felt the plants responding. The vines straightened further, the fern’s fronds uncurled, and even the flowers on the table seeming to glow with more life.
My magic was responding to happiness, to hope rather than strategic planning.
“The plants are reacting,” I said, my voice unsteady.
“I noticed.” Dominic traced his fingers along my jaw. “They’re responding to the possibility of something real between us.” He held my gaze, his own eyes reflecting the firelight. “If you want it. If you’re willing to risk it.”
My heart pounded against my ribs. Every instinct I’d honed over years of keeping myself controlled and focused screamed at me to pull back, to rebuild my walls and protect myself from the vulnerability of caring this much.
But looking up at Dominic made my magic flip around inside me.
Working together today had felt natural, like we were complementing each other’s strengths rather than competing for focus. His intuition balanced my analysis. His flexibility enhanced my structure.
Maybe I could be both the strategist and the woman who was starting to care for her husband. Maybe they weren’t mutually exclusive after all.
“I’m willing,” I whispered. “To risk it. If you are.”
His smile transformed his face, making him look younger and unguarded. “I’ve been willing since you moaned while eating those cakes in the kitchen.”
Surprised laughter burst from me. “That’s what did it?”
“Among other things.” His expression turned more serious, though warmth still shone in his eyes. “But mostly it was watching you work. Seeing how you looked at dying plants like they’re puzzles worth understanding rather than inconveniences to ignore.”
“Your Majesties?” A voice called from beyond the door, making us both jump apart. “I have dessert when you’re ready.”
Dominic closed his eyes, frustration flickering across his features. “Thank you. Just leave it outside the door, please.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Footsteps retreated.
Dominic turned back to me. “We should probably eat dessert.”
“Probably.”
Neither of us moved.
Finally, Dominic’s hand dropped, though his gaze remained locked with mine. “This isn’t finished.”
“No,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt inside. “It’s not.”
Maybe being vulnerable with the right person wasn’t weakness.
Maybe it was the bravest thing I could do.