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Timerra calls Fogado into her office rarely enough that he always takes in the clutter. On the windowsill, a tea plant from Céline is making a valiant effort to adjust to the climate. Figurines and artwork from Timerra’s subjects cover every available surface, and a heavily annotated map hangs on the wall next to one of Merrin’s engraved daggers. Their pet rabbit is curled up in the corner on a woven blanket Merrin’s mother sent.
The queen herself sits backward in her desk chair, beaming up at him, making it impossible to tell if this is a state issue. He splits the difference by standing at an advisor’s position behind her chair and saying, “You called, Sis?”
She waves a letter with Brodia’s seal. Lately, she’s been bouncing around over her correspondence with its king, but Fogado hasn’t been able to sniff out why.
“The Brodian royal family is coming to town,” she says.
Even if this is setting off all kinds of bells, he can’t help a genuine smile. “The whole family? What’s the occasion?”
“King Diamant and I have been in cahoots—well, we’ve arranged a meeting.”
The idea of Diamant 'in cahoots' is amusing enough. If anyone could pull that off, it’s Timerra.
“And what might this little meeting be for?”
She flaps the letter at him. Fogado plays along, taking the letter and unfurling it with a flourish, ready to give his very serious advice.
As soon as he gets past the opening pleasantries, his playacting dies. A real spark of excitement ignites, but it soon dies, too. He rereads the letter before meeting Timerra’s expectant gaze.
“Sis, this isn’t funny.”
Her beam vanishes. “It’s not supposed to be.”
“So this isn’t forged?” He drops the letter on the desk before he can crease it. Timerra folds it back up.
“I thought you’d be happy. You gush about Prince Alcryst all the time.”
Next time he talks up a friend of his to Timerra, he’ll think twice. Even one he has feelings for. Especially one he has feelings for.
“That doesn’t mean I have to marry him.”
“Of course it doesn’t. We were just gonna talk about it. Along with other ways our nations could help each other.”
Before the war, Solm didn’t interact much with even its neighbors, but Brodia is across the sea. While Timerra and Diamant have been trying to establish a relationship, the queen’s other advisors have been understandably wary about negotiating with a nation famous for warmongering. Easing that process would help Timerra.
Fogado rubs his temple. “Listen, I get it. King Diamant wants to rely on trade rather than war, and we’re the best bet to show him how. Not to mention, we’d be able to keep an eye on Brodia, along with Firene and Elusia’s far borders.”
“That’s the idea.”
Fogado drums his fingers on the desk. “But with how publicly you fawn over Merrin, everyone can see there was no way you were going to marry the king.” Even Solm has council members who think Timerra should have married someone of higher status, but they can’t do anything in the face of the world’s most lovey-dovey royal couple.
“Not sorry for spoiling my knight in shining armor!” Timerra waggles her fingers at the rabbit, who’s started nosing around its blanket at the mention of its other mom.
Again, Fogado can’t help but smile. Leave it to his sister to make everyone incorporate the title of knight-consort into their politics. It certainly gave Merrin’s village a nice boost.
“So, if we want a marriage-based alliance with Brodia, Prince Alcryst and I are the obvious choices. It shows a strong commitment to our treaty without either country sacrificing its leader.”
“You’re just describing good politics. What’s the issue?”
Fogado is well-practiced in biting back sighs, but this one slips through. He steps back from his advisor’s stance to lean against the bookshelf.
“The issue is that this isn’t just politics. Prince Alcryst has always been compared to his older brother. That’s why he’s so down on himself.”
Though he doesn’t anger easily, his chest flares when he remembers how Alcryst took everyone’s negativity to heart. As if he hadn’t been a child doing his best. As if he hadn’t grown into a kind, fierce, perceptive person. For a second, Fogado remembers that’s who he could have as a husband, before he imagines Alcryst’s reaction.
“Brodia’s royals don’t have our freedom—he’ll do it just for his nation,” he continues. “Being forced into such a high-pressure situation because King Diamant isn’t available? That’ll crush him.”
Timerra droops into a floppy pile of limbs.
“First off—no one’s being forced into anything. We were just gonna have a meeting to consider it. But I didn’t think this’d upset you guys, honest. I’ll call it off,” she says.
“No, the king must have told the prince by now. He’ll just assume the worst if we do that.’’
“Well, what do you want me to do? We can’t go through with it and not go through with it at the same time.”
“At this point, we’ll just have to wait until they get here and talk it out. The meeting is being held here, right?”
That revives her grin. “Of course. You’d think I’d leave a party up to Brodia?”
At least in that, he can’t fault his queen’s judgment.
Fogado tries not to think about it. Waking up next to Alcryst and helping him wrangle his hair out of his face, or talking through tactics over coffee, rather than sweating over them alone at his desk.
The latter is how he strategizes for the arrangements with Brodia—not just the marriage talks, but the rest of the negotiations. Still, he has too many responsibilities to let it distract him. Pandreo even throws a party to clear his head. This isn’t something Fogado is willing to go to confessional over, so he pretends it works.
When the Brodians arrive, Alcryst evades him until it’s time for the official meeting. The royal families convene in a private chamber with a modest domed ceiling and a miniature version of the throne room’s sun-like chandelier. Seforia is spending her retirement doing humanitarian work by the coast, so Timerra sits across from Diamant at the low table. It’s a good thing they serve their tea-loving guests iced hibiscus; Alcryst’s grasp on his glass is jittery enough without coffee. He won’t meet Fogado’s eyes.
None of it is his idea of a party. On the other side of Timerra, Merrin seems to be expending all her effort on stoicism. Timerra must have told her he wasn’t thrilled. He doesn’t want to imagine how the Brodian brothers’ conversation went.
Standing by the door with Bunet, Pandreo is the only one who didn’t get the memo, as he waves vigorously to Alcryst. Even that only seems to startle him.
While Diamant and Timerra review the benefits of uniting their nations, Fogado watches Alcryst. The glass dampens his silk glove, but he doesn’t drink, even as the sweat on his brow matches the condensation.
After a dry description of the resources Brodia has to offer, Diamant clears his throat. “Of course, if the princes consent to marriage, there is the question of where they will live. Their abilities as advisors are essential to both nations.”
The question’s weight presses on the whole room, including the retainers, who’d have to uproot their own lives. Even Fogado doesn’t have an answer. He’s all for traveling, but to move so far that he can’t return to Timerra in a crisis?
Maybe he should have thought this through, after all, instead of practicing the right balance of flirty and reassuring while dressing up.
All he knows is this atmosphere needs help. “How about we hold a vote? See who can spare us the longest?”
That throws off Diamant, who looks ready to take it seriously. Fogado realizes it was the worst possible joke when Alcryst slaps his palms and forehead on the table.
“You’re way, way more important. I am so sorry you’re being forced into this with someone like me!”
“First off, no one’s being forced into anything,” Fogado says in echo of Timerra. “Anyone allied with Solm’s gotta respect how we feel about freedom. That won’t be a problem, right?”
He raises a brow at Diamant, who nods. “We are only opening a fruitful discourse right now.” The look he shoots at Alcryst suggests they’ve already been over this.
“So there’s…there’s no way they’ll agree. I’m just wasting everyone’s time.” Alcryst lifts up, knocking over a vase of delphiniums. Diamant catches it and places it a safe distance away.
“Would everyone mind giving me and my fellow prince privacy? Like, everyone.” Fogado nods toward Brodia’s retainers, who look wary. Diamant shifts like he’s hiding uncertainty.
“You heard the prince. Let’s them give some alone time,” Timerra says.
The others clear out. As they leave, Merrin turns to Diamant and bursts with a question about Brodia’s wildlife. It would make Fogado laugh, if Alcryst’s gaze weren’t plastered to the table.
“You gonna look at me?”
Alcryst does, his chin still low, and flushes as red as the tea.
“There you go. Hey, missed you. You get my last letter?” Fogado asks.
“I did. I’m sorry for not responding. Before I could write something good enough, this happened.” He flaps a hand at the delphiniums like they’re responsible.
“Yeah, pretty wild that our sibs just sprung this on us, huh? At least it gives us a good excuse to visit.”
And a good excuse to see Alcryst in nice clothes, though the red velvet and ruffles don’t suit the climate, wilting him more than Timerra’s tea plant.
“How can you be so casual? You understand that if this goes through, then you’ll have to—you’ll have to—“
“Move in with my bestie to make world peace? I can think of worse fates.”
Alcryst’s eyes go as round as the chandelier. “With me? Really?”
“Is it that surprising?”
“I know you say—I mean, we’re good friends.” Alcryst stumbles over the words, but Fogado feels a flutter of affection. Last time they met up after a while apart, he had to convince Alcryst he hadn’t changed his mind. “But this! I can’t believe you’d actually want—”
“What about what you want? Can we stop doubting my feelings for a second and establish that?”
“I, I’m not worthy to—”
“That’s not what I asked.”
After a deep breath, Alcryst raises his head.
“What can I say? You’re one of the brightest people I’ve ever met. You practically glow. Who wouldn’t be honored to be matched with you?”
That doesn’t exactly answer the question, but Fogado lets it slide. He leans over the table.
“I do remember a certain someone saying he liked me.”
“Prince Fogado, please. This is no time for teasing.”
“Okay, in all seriousness—I happen to remember saying I liked you, too.”
Alcryst grants him a shy smile that makes it extraordinarily hard not to dive across the table. Fogado props his cheek in his hand instead.
“Besides, a gentle, studious prince who’s good at archery and wolf taming? That’s a catch in Solm, you know,” Fogado says.
Alcryst’s smile softens. “Believe me, I know how lucky I am to be sitting here.”
“Bestie, I was describing you.”
“What? But that was such a favorable description.”
“Didn’t we just cover this?”
“Right. Sorry.”
Alcryst lowers his gaze again. Fogado reaches across the table to put a hand over his.
“Hey. I meant it when I said I won’t push you into anything. Let’s just see where this first talk leads. Can you trust me with that?”
To his relief, Alcryst doesn’t pull away. “I do. I mean, I will.”
Fogado pats his hand before leaning back. “Now, let’s call in the sibs and see if Bunet can serve up some food. I was promised a party.”
Finally, Alcryst’s posture relaxes. “I do like parties.”
“Good, because I think Pandreo’s gonna explode if we hold him back from howling at you.”
At that, Alcryst actually laughs, and Fogado lets himself feel how he wanted to all along—bright with anticipation.