Chapter Three

Closing the door on Luis' snores, I instinctively scanned the antechamber for Ren, only allowing myself to relax when I had confirmed he was safe.

The young king was lying on the rug and staring in thought at the ceiling, with his knees bent and the soles of his expensive boots resting audaciously on his husband's back.

Mathias himself was sitting cross-legged on the floor, elbows resting on the coffee table. An open bottle of ink rested next to his right hand, which was dutifully scratching out words with a tattered quill that I knew had been in much better shape only yesterday. He paused, frowning, and began to absently pluck barbs from the feather's vane, confirming my suspicions.

"How many Ps are in ‘appropriate'?"

"Twenty," Ren said promptly. He pulled himself upright and peered over Mathias' shoulder at the parchment he was glaring at. "Ah. You only used four. That's your mistake."

His consort scowled and shoved his face away.

Ren pretended to pout. "Why are you writing to Astrid Panarina, anyway?"

"I wanted to ask how she was," Mathias admitted quietly, tossing the ruined quill down onto the half-finished letter. "I haven't spoken to her since our wedding."

Ren cocked his head, sprawling himself across the lounge and winking at me to let me know he'd noticed my arrival. "Then why don't you ask her in person? We could be in Stavroyarsk within the fortnight."

Mathias' eyes lit up. "Really? We can do that?"

The king laughed, long and loud, and it buoyed my heart to hear – and see – him so happy.

" Mi amor ," he said fondly. "You can do whatever you want, and you fucking well know that. If a long ass carriage ride to the hellish north to visit a woman with the personality of a glacier herself is what you want...who am I to complain?"

Everyone in the room, including the royal guards at the door standing appropriately alert and wary, knew he would indeed be complaining. Loudly, vigorously, and incessantly, but his husband was the only one who'd be stuck for days in a confined carriage with him.

Mathias made his opinions on that known by seating himself in Ren's lap, looking extremely pleased. It was an expression he immediately doused when the king glanced at him, feigning boredom instead, and by Dios, it was exhausting to watch the two of them at it.

As the boys murmured soft words of affection to each other, littered with creatively cruel insults, my mind was already racing over the logistics of a return trip to Stavroyarsk. We'd need to pay the selected guards overtime, make sure to pack additional provisions for when we reached the colder climates, and-

I exhaled as I remembered it was no longer my job. Elías would have all those things in hand, and while I was sure the Comandante would approve my request to accompany them, I couldn't deny the twinge of shame. If I was better, if I was whole , I could lead such an excursion myself. But when I couldn't be trusted not to lose myself at any given time, how could I be trusted with something as preciously sacred as my king's safety?

"Does that hurt?"

"How about this?"

I clenched my jaw, refusing to make a sound.

The darkness abated and I blinked at the lounge. Ren now sat alone, Mathias having entirely disappeared from the room, and someone had cleared the tea set from the low table.

Shit.

"Jiron," said Ren, and I tried not to show my panic at having blanked out yet again. But my charge knew me too well, and the shrewd look he was giving me said he wasn't fooled at all. "I wish to ease my headache before meeting with Lilia and the other palace tutors this afternoon. You'll accompany me down to Starling's surgery."

"Jiron's not on duty, sire," one of his guards murmured from where she was standing by the door.

"I don't care," Ren immediately shot back, offering me a warning glance that said I better not either.

Knowing exactly how full of shit he was about this alleged headache, and him knowing I'd never call him out on it, I bowed dutifully.

The king beamed, looped his arm through mine, and dragged me from his chambers to the surgery on the ground floor of the palace.

"Estrella!" Ren called loudly after making me push open the door for him without knocking. The surgery was larger than the one at la Cortina had been, with high windows overlooking the sloping gardens beyond and giving the room an airier, brighter feel. With the little healer's exceptional magical ability, patients never needed to stay here long, so the additional beds that had once lined the room had been replaced with a row of bookshelves along the back wall. It was an eclectic library, featuring everything from medical journals to novels written in Mazekhstani that the king had joyfully assured me were shamelessly fun erotica. I didn't dare disbelieve him.

"What is it today, Your Boorishness?" Starling asked, wiping her hands on a cloth and approaching Ren with a sceptical expression. Her frizzy hair was mostly scraped back into a bun, although several scraggly strands wisped around her face. It reminded me of Wyatt, and the adorable tuft of hair on the left side of the Lukian boy's head that never sat flat.

I glanced out of the window, scanning the men and women working in the gardens and hoping to spot the distinctive blonde hair of my...friend.

"Well," said Ren, and I hid my smile at the wicked mischief audible in his voice. "After fucking Mathias into the mattress six times last night, my cock is feeling a little worn out. I believe it needs some personal, hands-on healing."

"That is not in my job description," said Starling with barely restrained horror, staring at him pleadingly. Evidently realising the futility in appealing to Ren's infamous lack of mercy, she turned huge eyes my way instead. "Please tell him it's not!"

I cleared my throat. "We are all honoured to serve our king," I reminded her, and she huffed out an irritated breath. Had she really expected me to take her side over his?

"If you're going to be more of a sullen ass than my husband on an early morning, Estrella," Ren drawled, "you can check Jiron over instead."

There it was.

Starling immediately gravitated to my side in relief, running sparking hands over my shoulder as it was the closest to my head she could reach even up on her toes.

Some of the tension eased from my body, but I knew that the reprieve was physical only: nothing she'd ever done had eased the mess my mind had become, or made sleeping any easier. Either I tossed and turned for hours seeking rest that never came, or I drowned in far-too-real nightmares like the one Luis had woken me from this morning.

But letting Starling do her thing made my king happy, and that was all that mattered.

"We'll be heading to Stavroyarsk in about a fortnight's time," he said casually as she worked, inspecting his fingernails even though they wouldn't be allowed to be anything less than perfect. "You might as well travel with us rather than on your own next week."

"I'm not-"

"Excellent, it's decided," said Ren, cutting off her protest.

It seemed he'd already managed to use his promise to Mathias to his own advantage in delaying the healer's scheduled return north. Starling spent half of each year with us and half in the Mazekhstani city of Stavroyarsk, but clearly our king had decided that halves didn't need to be equal portions.

"Now I wish to visit the gardens," he declared the moment the healer threw her hands up in frustration, grinning at me with entirely unconvincing innocence. "Carry me," Ren demanded, and I'd instinctively gathered him into my arms before I realised what I'd done.

"I can't," I said with reluctance. I attempted to put him back down on his feet, but the obstinate royal clung onto my arms, narrowing his eyes. I tried again. "Your Majesty, if I have another...episode, I could drop you."

"You won't," he said cheerfully, and patted my chest as if that was all the assurance either of us needed.

"It's not a good idea," Starling disagreed, folding her arms.

Ren groaned into my shirt, wriggling around to do so, and I tightened my grip on him before he could fall. "You've never shown concern for my welfare before, se?orita, so for both of our sakes please don't start now."

"I don't give a shit about you," she retorted, and I tensed as I always did when someone spoke disparagingly of Ren. I'd had sore shoulders for months after Mathias arrived in our lives. "But Jiron needs rest, and hauling your fat ass around isn't helping."

The king froze. "Fat?" He dragged his brown eyes up to mine, looking murderous. "Did she just call me fucking fat ?"

"The gardens you said, Your Majesty?"

I carried him swiftly out of the surgery before he could demand the healer's head.

*