Chapter 24 Cracks in Gold
The Thornwoods retreated.
Lord Ashford of the Western Reach presented us with a ceremonial sword and a tapestry depicting the history of the Aurelian dynasty. Lady Mireille of the Southern Isles brought pearls and coral and a slightly alarmed-looking sea creature in a glass bowl. Lord Valmont of the Eastern Marches presented a chest of gold and a long, rambling speech about the importance of "bloodline preservation" that made me want to stab myself with the ceremonial sword.
Through it all, Cardan was gracious and remote. He accepted each gift with the same formal nod, the same murmured thanks. He did not look at me. He did not speak to me. He was a statue on a throne, and I was the smaller statue beside him.
The High Priestess approached last.
She was an imposing woman, tall and silver-haired, with the kind of ageless beauty that came from centuries of devoted worship. Her robes were white and gold, and she carried a small chest in her hands.
"Your Majesties." She bowed her head. "I bring a gift from the Temple of Solara. Fertility potions, blessed by the sacred flame. To aid in the production of an heir."
The court murmured approvingly.
I stared at the chest. "Fertility potions."
"They are most effective when taken by both partners. The sacred flame has blessed countless Aurelian unions with children." The High Priestess smiled, but her eyes were sharp. Assessing. "The consummation of your marriage is, of course, a sacred duty. The Oath of the Sundered Gate requires it. I trust that duty has been fulfilled?"
The question hung in the air.
Cardan's jaw tightened. "The details of our marriage bed are private, Your Holiness."
"The Oath is not private. It is a matter of realm security." The High Priestess's voice was firm. "If the marriage remains unconsummated, the terms of the Oath are not satisfied. The magic that binds your realms remains... vulnerable."
"Vulnerable?" I leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
"The Oath requires full consummation. Without it, the binding is incomplete. The gates of Hel remain partially open. The Fae magic remains partially unstable." She met my eyes. "Surely you were told this."
I had not been told this. From the look on Cardan's face, neither had he.
"We are aware of the requirements," Cardan said, his voice tight. "The consummation will happen. In due time."
"The Oath does not specify 'in time.' It specifies 'immediately following the binding ceremony.'" The High Priestess's expression was unreadable. "I urge you, Your Majesties, not to delay. The stability of both realms depends on it."
She placed the chest of fertility potions at the base of the dais and withdrew.
The silence she left behind was deafening.
\-———————————————-
I found Lady Freya in the conservatory.
It was late afternoon, two days after the delegation's visit. I had gone to the conservatory seeking solace among the night-blooming flowers, the only living things in this palace that didn't judge me. Instead, I found her.
She was standing by the moon-lilies, her crimson gown replaced by a simple traveling dress of dark blue. A satchel was slung over her shoulder. She looked, for the first time since I'd met her, uncertain.
"Your Majesty." She curtsied, but it was stiff. Uncomfortable. "I didn't expect to find you here."
"I didn't expect to find you at all." I stopped several feet away, keeping my distance. "I thought you had left. Cardan told me he'd arranged a position for you in the northern territories."
"He did. There were... delays."
"Delays."
"The northern roads have been dangerous lately. Bandits. Rebel factions. It wasn't safe to travel."
"How convenient."
Her dark eyes flickered. "Are you accusing me of something?"
"I'm not sure yet." I studied her. She was beautiful, undeniably so. But up close, I could see the lines around her eyes. The tension in her shoulders. She was not a woman who had won. She was a woman who had lost, and was trying very hard not to show it.
"How long?" I asked.
"Excuse me?"
"How long were you with him? Six years, I know. But how long were you with him?"
Freya was silent for a long moment. Then she said, quietly: "Four years. The first two, we were just friends. We became... closer... after his father's ailment."
"Before he became King."
"Yes."
"And you love him?"
Her jaw tightened. "That's not a fair question."
"I'm not feeling particularly fair."
"Fine." She lifted her chin. "Yes. I love him. I have loved him for years. And he..." She stopped. Swallowed. "He cared for me. I won't pretend otherwise. But I have always known he could never be mine. Not truly. He was promised to you before we ever met."
"Yet you stayed."
"Love makes fools of us all, Your Majesty. Surely you know that."
I didn't. I had never been in love. I had been promised, bound, faithful to a ghost, but love? Love was a stranger to me.
"He's sending you away," I said. "For me. For the marriage."
"Yes."
"Does that make you angry?"
Freya smiled. It was a sad smile. A knowing smile. "Would it make you angry?"
"I'm not sure. I've never been in your position."
"And I've never been in yours." She adjusted the strap of her satchel. "I'm leaving tomorrow. Really, this time. The roads are safe enough now. I won't be coming back."
I should have felt triumph. Satisfaction. Instead, I felt something unexpected.
Pity.
"I'm not your enemy," I said quietly. "I know you probably think I am. But I'm not."
Freya studied me for a long moment. "No," she said finally. "I don't think you are. I think you're a woman who was promised to a man she didn't choose, bound by an oath she didn't make, and thrown into a court that despises her. I think you're lonely and angry and trying very hard not to show either." She paused. "I think we might have been friends, in another life."
"Maybe."
"But not in this one."
"No," I agreed. "Not in this one."
She curtsied one final time, deeper this time, more genuine. "Goodbye, Your Majesty. I hope you find some happiness here. Truly."
Then she walked away, her boots clicking against the marble floor, and left me alone among the moon-lilies.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the flowers without seeing them.
Love makes fools of us all.
I wondered if that was true. I wondered if I would ever find out.
\---
That night, I lay alone in my bed—Cardan and I still maintained separate chambers, the consummation still unfulfilled—and stared at the canopy above me.
The kingdom was crumbling. The treasury was empty. The northern borders were bleeding. Elowyn was scheming. The High Lords were lying. And somewhere in the middle of it all, my husband sat on his golden throne and saw nothing but the sanitized reports his sister allowed him to read.
I could tell him, I thought. I could go to him tomorrow and tell him everything I've learned.
But would he believe me? The foreign queen, the monster under the bed, the woman he had been raised to fear? Would he take my word over his sister's, his council's, his entire court's?
I didn't know.
But I knew one thing: the cracks in the gold were spreading. And when they finally shattered, I needed to be ready.
I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me.