Chapter 11

Rognar

T he early rays of sunrise are streaming in my window, and I curse. I have not been to bed all night. I would have much rather been in my bed, my wife curled around me, but instead I sit in the king’s office and look at the reports. Still no sign of Dura or Marvik’s bodies. After two months, though I don’t want to admit it, it is time to stop the search. Grief fills my chest as I think of my bright and brilliant cousin, her body torn apart by beasts after falling to her death. A bad end. One she did not deserve. The same is true of Marvik, Adalind's beloved brother. If only I had known then what I know now, I would have ordered Dura to capture Marvik, not kill him, and spared us both heartache.

I sigh and lean back in my chair. I know why I am tense, and it is not just this hopeless piece of news. Tomorrow, Adalind and I are headed to Adrik. The journey will take longer than usual, since Adalind is pregnant and suffering from nausea. I was vehemently against the trip, wanting to wait until she was in better health. Besides, staying at High Citadel makes me on edge. It is a dangerous place, full of terrible memories for my mate. But after the destruction of the Cabal, Adalind has insisted that we stay in the human capital for a time. There is the business of punishing the houses found in collusion with the Cabal and the execution of Duchess Grimble, which we should preside over, not just the regents we left in our place.

The door to my office opens and I see that beautiful head of my wife peek through the crack. Her lavender-gray eyes are alert, though I can tell that she just woke up.

“You didn’t ever come to bed.” The words are softly accusing, though she smiles a little to soften them .

“There is much I must do before we leave tomorrow.” While I talk, I move the scout’s report about Dura and Marvik under another page.

Adalind is too sharp to miss such a sloppy maneuver, however. “What is that?”

I sigh again and pass her the report, knowing that she will not let it go until she has seen its contents. Her eyes pass over the words on the page, her frown deepening as she does, until she reaches the bottom.

When she looks up, I can see the tears in her eyes. “We won’t be able to burn and bury them, will we?” she asks softly, her sorrow evident.

I shake my head and reach for her. Without hesitation, she comes to me, letting me pull her onto my lap and hold her close. Having her in my arms quiets the bereavement I am feeling as well. I bury my face in her hair, letting myself be soothed by her sweet and delicate scent.

Finally I murmur, “After our business at High Citadel we will hold a memorial for them and erect cenotaphs for them in the royal cemetery. They will be remembered, even if we can’t lay their ashes to rest.”

Adalind doesn’t respond for a moment, then looks up, her face next to mine. “I would like that.”

Helpless to resist temptation, I kiss her upturned lips, a soft and sweet kiss of comfort. When we are done, she gives me a sad smile and I look out the window. The sun is still not quite up, the sky still streaked with orange and pink. Perhaps there is time for some rest before I must carry on with my day.

“It is time for the queen to go back to bed with her king,” I say, and stand, holding her in my arms. That surprises a laugh out of her as her arms find my neck.

“Rognar, I can walk!”

“And I can carry you,” I state, deliberately misunderstanding her. It is good to hear her laugh, though I know she is still grieving .

“It is morning!” she exclaims. “We cannot remain abed all day!”

“Not all day,” I reason, “but maybe for an hour or so more. And I need to hold my wife while I try to get some sleep.”

That softens her in my arms, as I knew it would, and she stops protesting.

With that, I take my mate back to bed.