by Megan Derr
My heart stopped when I heard that you had been hurt and might not survive. Lord Lesto thankfully explained the whole of the matter, though it sounds like you still have quite a bit to endure before they finally let you come home. But if they are sending High Consort Allen as I suspect, I think you'll be home that much sooner.
Your child is doing well, so far as I and the healer can determine. Growing strong, and far better behaved than my first two. At least for now. There are still a few months to go. I do not know what your wishes are regarding the child, but whatever you want, I will do my best to accommodate.
The rest of the mess you need not be concerned about. I never wanted more than you gave me. If I'd never spoken to you again after the night we went into the city, I would have declared myself happy the rest of my life. I am sorry everything has turned into such a mess.
Your estate is still doing well, and I am compiling thorough notes so that you can resume your duties with minimal difficulty. I've had some of your private stock shipped there so it is available whenever you visit, and ensured several other amenities will be in place before your arrival. I also sent word your ankle may not be yet capable of the stairs, so they'll prepare suitable quarters for you on the ground floor. If there's anything else you'd like done, simply let me know.
The watch was meant to be your welcome home gift. The casing was done by an artist I know well, having worked with them before on several other pieces. And this is where I confess that I am a clockmaker, largely as a source of income that did not rely on my family. Your watch should be accurate to within ten minutes a day, the best available. If you run into any problems, I'll be happy to fix it.
Jader stopped reading then, his mind going to his desk clock, how utterly perfect it was. The little card that had come with it had said similar things: best available, accurate to within ten minutes.
He wasn't remotely surprised to learn Kamir was good at such work. He was still, quiet, patient. Also practical; not the sort of person to refuse to work simply because he was nobility.
Picking up the watch again, he stared avidly at the gears behind the glass, smiling softly at the image of Kamir bent over a work table slowly fitting everything together to bring the watch to life. Jader wanted to see it. Wanted to distract him, drag him away to dinner or bed, listen to him grumble half-heartedly about needing to get work done.
Setting the watch back down, Jader resumed reading.
There are many things I wish I could say, but they feel too much like manipulation at this point.
Please come home alive and well.
Yours truly,
Kamir
Jader dropped the letter on the table next to the watch and buried his face in his hands to keep himself from screaming. He wanted to be home. He wanted to see Kamir. He wanted to fucking know if many things I wish I could say were anything like the things Jader wanted to say.
More than anything, he wanted Kamir to know that he didn't have to dread Jader's reaction.
Dropping his hands, Jader scrubbed one through his hair and weighed his options. A letter seemed the best short term solution, as paltry as that felt.
And the very moment this mess in Benta was over, he was going home and never leaving again.
Reaching for the crutches that had for once been left within reach, he crossed the room to his desk and sat down to write a letter.
There were at least a thousand things he wanted to say, but he kept it short and straight to the point. Sealing the letter, he took it to his guards and had them send it to Allen's chambers.
Returning to his seat, he picked up the watch again, curling his fingers around it and holding it close.
The biggest question he had now was: why had Kamir made him a clock and gifted it anonymously? He'd barely been aware of Kamir back when he'd been made High Commander upon Lesto's retirement. Lesto was the only reason he'd been aware of Kamir at all.
It was possible the clock had come from someone else, but Jader doubted it. There were too many elements in common, most especially the personal touches. Both the clock and the watch had been made by someone who knew him—someone who cared.
That realization left a squirming feeling in his gut, kicked his heart up to a rapid pace.
Surely not. There was no possible way Kamir had—
A knock on the door made him jump. "Come in."
One of his Shattered Wind guards stepped inside. "Commander, High Consort Allen has requested your presence."
"Help me up, please."
When he was up and settled, the guards helped him through the halls and downstairs to the private banquet room that had been converted to a meeting room for the rulers of the two most powerful countries on the continent.
Inside, Desmond and Allen sat at a table with cups of wine, looking like dark and light versions of each other—the Scholar King and Golden Tongue.
"Have a seat, Commander," Allen said, and poured him a cup of wine as Jader obeyed.
"I thought you said it would take longer to come to an agreement."
"There are fine details to be worked out, but the important bits were worked out faster than anticipated," Desmond replied.
The back of Jader's neck prickled. "I get the feeling I'm not going to like the decision that was reached."
"No, probably not," Allen said. "But it's the best option and will only waste a month of your time."
"Yes, Majesty."
"The key matter here is that you are now a man of two countries, and rightfully hold a title in both."
"Can't I just cede the duchy? Wouldn't the recent treason and my obvious conflict of interest be enough to strip it?" Jader stifled a sigh. "I thought the Bentan title would be the easy part."
Desmond gave a bare shake of his head, and for a moment looked tired. "If you were the only part of the problem, yes, it would be an easy matter to simply strip you of the title for all those reasons. The greater problem is that if I take back the title, there are three families who would have right to it and I would not have grounds to refuse all of them—and none of them are families that need to have the kind of power your duchy would bring. Two of them are currently being discreetly investigated for behavior and ambitions that displease me greatly. The last is… frankly, they're all a bunch of fools. Granting any of them the title would cause problems for more than Benta in the grander scheme. But snubbing them and granting the title elsewhere will cause an entirely different set of problems and waste valuable time and money."
"So you need me in order to pass the title to people you prefer to have in power."
Desmond gave a slight nod.
"I don't see how that's Harken's problem. Why can't I simply surrender the title and leave?"
"You could," Allen said. "But surrendering a title takes a minimum of six months when the paperwork goes smoothly and is expedited. Our method would be faster, and comes with other benefits."
Jader wanted to punch them both. He hadn't wanted to come in the first place. The family he'd never known, that he'd slowly been coming to like—even love—was dead or awaiting execution. The man he loved was far away in Harken, suffering because he'd dared to attach himself to Jader.
And now they wanted him to linger in Benta and play the pawn so they could wrangle benefits that would probably never have any bearing on his life.
"Commander," Allen said gently.
But it was reminder and reprimand. The High Commander was more than a soldier. Whatever he wanted came last in the list of priorities. "Yes, Majesty."
"We'll make amends for everything, Commander, I swear to you."
"What is it you want me to do?" Jader asked, biting back all the angry things he still very much wanted to say.
Allen shared a look with Desmond, then said, "You're going to get married."
"Yes, I am," Jader replied. "To Kamir, assuming he'll have anything to do with me after all the awful things we've done to him."
"You'll marry him eventually, and I'll pay for the wedding
myself," Allen replied. "First, however, you are going to marry Lady Helena Merrior."
Desmond added, "She's the last of her family, an extremely minor baroness wasted on her negligible title. She is also loyal and ambitious in ways I approve. She'll be beneficial to me, Benta, and Harken. But I need her in a position of power first. She marries you, takes your name, and you make her the controlling Duchess. It also means that when you're legally allowed to divorce in one month, she retains the title and you're left without it. Unusual, but not without precedent, especially with Abernoth, which has always been woman-controlled. Abernoth has in fact done this twice before when the family was left with no women."
Jader felt sick. "So I have to marry some woman I've never met, sit here for a month, get divorced, and then I can finally go home?"
"Yes. Six weeks more in Benta, and another for travel, Commander, and you'll be back in Harken."
"Fine. As you will, Your Majesties. But I want your word that Kamir will be informed immediately of the whole situation. I don't—" He broke off, looked away, hands curling into fists. When he finally trusted himself to speak again, he turned back and said, "My family has no idea how far from home I am. For months I have been told they're not my real family. The family I forgot and was starting to know again is dead. If you cost me the family I am hoping to build—"
Allen reached out to rest a hand on one of Jader's fists. "I did a poor job of keeping my first promise. I won't let you down this second time."
"You'd better not. May I be dismissed?"
"Of course. Thank you, Commander."
Jader got himself on his feet, bowed his head since a proper bow would put his ass on the floor, and awkwardly left the room.
Chapter Nineteen
"What?" Kamir asked.
The imperial messenger bowed his head in a failed attempt to hide the grin that danced over his lips. "The High King has summoned you to his office for a private audience, and you are to come immediately."
Immediately, he said. Like Kamir was anywhere close to suitably dressed for a private audience with the High King—the High King who hated him, and even Lesto would not convince Kamir otherwise. "I'll come at once."
The messenger bowed and departed.
Kamir pressed the heels of his hands to his temples. "Why does His Majesty want to speak with me? Why?"
Charlaine chuckled. "Why are you so upset? I've no doubt it's simply to update you on the High Commander. His Grace did promise you'd be kept apprised."
"Yes, but I assumed His Grace would be doing the apprising. Surely His Majesty has better things to do with his time?" Kamir dropped his hands and shook his head. "Nevermind. It hardly matters. I need to dress. Would you find Velina and let her know for me?"
Charlaine swept him a playful bow and strode off.
Kamir fled to his room and fretted over his wardrobe. The last time he'd been in the High King's office, he'd felt like an outdated pauper next to the beauty and fashion of the High Consort and Lord Tara. Now, with his wardrobe choices hampered by his ever-increasing girth, he was going to look downright embarrassing.
But really, if he was just going to get yelled at again, did it matter if he looked horribly out of fashion?
Sighing, he picked out his clothes, fixed his hair and affixed his jewels, then stepped into shoes and returned to the main part of the house. Charlaine was waiting for him, speaking with two of the guards who'd become a regular presence ever since he'd visited Kyrmine. No matter how often he said multiple guards were no longer necessary, there were always at least two on the premises, and sometimes four.
Gesturing for the guards to leave, Charlaine turned to Kamir. "Ready to go? His Majesty sent a carriage along."
Kamir couldn't even protest that, though he was surprised the High King had sent it. Walking wasn't a miserable endeavor yet, but there were days that extensive walking became a chore. Pregnancy aside, he did not want to make matters worse by showing up to the High King's office covered in dust. "I'm not sure 'ready' is the word, but a summons is a summons."
It took them half an hour to travel through the city and up to the palace, the trip a good deal shorter than it would have otherwise been thanks to traveling in a carriage bearing the imperial crest.
Entering the palace took more effort than Kamir liked to admit. Why, why did the High King want to see him?
"Breathe," Charlaine said, resting a hand lightly on the small of his back and ever so gently nudging him forward. "I promise all will be well. If you were being summoned because you were in trouble, I promise you would know it."
Lesto had said something similar the day the High King had issued the imperial decree, but Kamir nodded, because agreeing was easier than arguing. All his energy was currently occupied with anxiety.
They walked through the palace, and though he kept his gaze up, he was careful to avoid catching anyone's eye. But whispers and mean laughs rose in his wake, and he wondered what had happened now to provoke a fresh wave of gossip and ridicule.
When they reached the High King's office, the guards there immediately opened the doors and instead of having to approach the clerk's desk, Kamir was waved on through. The second set of doors were opened, and with a last reassuring squeeze of his shoulder from Charlaine, Kamir stepped inside.
To his surprise—and alarm—there was no sign of the usual flock of secretaries, not even Myra, who was usually present no matter what.
Instead, it was only Sarrica, sprawled in a chair in the sitting area where Kamir had signed papers agreeing to oversee Jader's estate in his absence. He bowed low as he reached Sarrica.
"Good, you've come," Sarrica replied, and motioned. "Sit, sit. I'm certain you would like to be off your feet. I've had a few teas brought, not certain which you would prefer. Nyle preferred the ginger, but there is also merr and honeydrop."
Kamir sat. "The honeydrop would be wonderful, Your Majesty. Thank you very much."
Sarrica snorted as he finished pouring the tea, and once more leaned back in his seat, sprawled in that way only someone of absolute power could in such a serious setting. "It requires very little effort on my part to make tea appear. How are you feeling? The fourth month was where Nyle really started to hate life."
Taking a sip of tea, Kamir smiled shyly and said, "It's not so bad. I will be miserable in a couple more months, but so far the baby is behaving. My twins were not so kind."
"You were so young yourself, too," Sarrica said, the words low enough they sounded more like a thought he hadn't entirely meant to voice. "Admirable, and from everything I hear, they are marvelous children. Allen posed we invite them to spend time with my children, especially Bellen, who is I think the same age or near enough. We meant to ask you, but got thoroughly distracted by problems with Benta." He sighed and drained his own tea cup. "And of course I drove you away by being a suspicious bastard, though by the end, it seemed to be what you wanted. I assume because of the machinations of your parents and that slithering ex-husband of yours."
Kamir felt like he'd walked into some strange dream. Or possibly a nightmare. He wasn't quite certain which. "I… I don't understand why I'm here, Your Majesty, though I'm grateful for your kindness."
Sarrica waved the words away. "I owe you every kindness after treating you so harshly." He smiled faintly, and a touch mischievously. "There is also that I prefer to be in my husband's good graces, and right now my place there is tenuous at best." He picked up the stack of papers set next to him on the sofa. "I met with your parents and ex-husband this morning. They agreed to the terms I offered them."
"Terms?" Kamir suddenly wished he hadn't drunk the tea.
"The important part is that the disownment has gone through, and I made them sign papers that they would never try to reclaim you—and that if they tried anyway, they would pay a fine significant enough I thought they would break down crying from sheer panic." Sarrica's grin that time was full of teeth and grim satisfaction. He offered some of the papers he held.
&nbs
p; Kamir took them with a trembling hand, and rested them in his lap as he flipped through them. As Sarrica had said, the disownment was finalized. He was no longer Kamir Tesly. He had no idea what his new surname would be.
Hopes and dreams whispered in his ear, taunted and tormented him, but Kamir ignored them. "Th-thank you, Your Majesty."
Sarrica made a dismissive noise and lifted the second packet of papers. "The second piece of information I have for you is this: the custody challenge has been thrown out as frivolous. That was not of my doing, save that I ordered the matter be expedited."
"But the investigation was only launched a short time ago," Kamir said.
"Yes, and in that time, they found quite a bit of proof that you're an excellent father. The copies of your divorce and first custody hearing that you provided were extremely helpful, and there was more than enough evidence to prove Theoren unreliable as the challenger. You would have received word at your home by this afternoon, but I wanted to be the one to tell you." Sarrica handed over the second packet and lifted the third. "And with those two matters resolved, I of course have this."
Kamir took it, and had to fight tears as he saw it was a rescinding of the imperial order banning him from marrying Jader. "I don't understand."
"You asked that it be put in writing," Sarrica said slowly. "So even though you'd proven to me with your reaction that it wasn't necessary, I put it in writing. But all the reasons you would have wanted such a thing have been negated, so I've negated the order as well."
"I appreciate the kind gesture, Your Majesty." Jader was never going to marry him anyway, but there was no denying he felt a little less weighed down knowing it was no longer forbidden.
"Which brings me to the main reason I asked you to come see me," Sarrica said. "You're not going to enjoy the first part, but hear me through the whole."
Kamir's stomach tied itself into knots. "Majesty?"
