I had to conserve my energy.

For I had a number of battles on my hands

And none of them would be won with staffs and arrows.

I was not adept at the tactics that would bring these kinds of victory.

Nor did I have Melisse (who was, thank the goddess, upon news from the last bird we received, still with us) close to guide me.

I was on my own.

I was also (effectively) Princess Regent of Airen.

Thus, I was going to have to learn.

And do that quickly.

94

The Summit

Queen Farah

Queen’s Dressing Room, Birchlire Castle, Notting Thicket

WODELL

“Sling.”

At my husband’s voice, my eyes, aimed at the mirror, shifted from watching Helga work at the laces at the back of my gown, upwards, to my husband’s face as he approached me.

“I’ll return shortly, my queen,” Helga murmured, dipping, and then quickly, and silently, gliding from the room.

“True—” I began.

He stopped behind me, dropped his head and touched his lips to the exposed skin of my neck where it met my shoulder.

I fought a shiver.

His green eyes then lifted to mine in the mirror.

“I miss doing your laces,” he murmured.

I did too.

I also missed him undoing them, and more, wished we had moved on to him undoing them for more purpose than to help me prepare for bed in order to sleep.

Before I could reply, he repeated, “Sling.”

“My arm is stiff,” I told him.

“It’s healing,” he told me.

“It’s annoying,” I shared.

“I can imagine,” he replied. “You’re still wearing it.”

“I’m fine. It’s fine. It’s time to move it and—”

“Farah, three more days, and then we’ll assess.”

“One day,” I haggled.

He smiled at me in the mirror and said softly, “Two.”

I did not wish to wear that bloody sling two more days.

Yes, there was still pain.

But I’d examined my wound closely just that morning (and the morning before, and so on). The skin was knitting nicely. There was no longer any swelling. There was barely any redness. In fact, I could likely have the stitches removed entirely in two days.

And then, perhaps, I could do something I very much wished to do.

Consummate my marriage with my king.

I stared into my husband’s eyes and saw the fatigue he could not hide.

He did not sleep very well on the whole. A soldier’s lot, these terrors in the night that drove rest away.

But lately, since his mother had perished in such an ugly, quick, public way…

And I had been injured.

And Alfie had been wounded so severely.

And now, he was king, taking his throne in troubled times where he had to make terrible decisions.

It seemed he barely slept at all.

“Two,” I agreed.

He put his hands to my waist, turned me, and I saw he was still smiling when he settled me facing him.