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As long as he lived, Finnikin, son of Trevanion of the River and Bartolina of the Rock, would never tire of the rush of pure joy he felt every time he descended the Valley of Tranquility and entered the gates to the Kingdom of Lumatere.
He owed a visit to his Aunt Celestina, perched high in her village on the Rock, and he needed to check in on Froi’s condition at Lord August’s residence. He was still slightly terrified of visiting Lady Beatriss’s home, as there tended to be any number of terrifying women there drinking tea and waiting to box his ears about something or other, regardless of the fact that he held the second highest position in the land. But she was still the closest thing to a mother he’d known in this life, Vestie the sister of his heart that he’d never expected to know.
But there was only one headstrong, difficult, dark-hearted woman he wanted to see at that moment, and she just so happened to be the divine ruler of the entire kingdom, so he steered his entourage toward the palace.
He dismounted his horse in a hurry, waving to the stable boys and the guards who’d traveled with him in a sheepish manner before breaking into a jog. They’d miraculously avoided the crush of people who usually greeted him upon his return to the kingdom, which made Finnikin resolve to always travel ahead of the letter announcing his return.
“I know why you’re in a hurry, lad, but remember that I have to accompany you everywhere, and I’ve spent four days on a horse,” Perri grunted as he kept pace. Finnikin only laughed and jogged faster. Perri had dealt with worse.
He looked in the throne room, her study, and their bedchamber first. All of the rooms were annoyingly populated by everyone aside from the one person he most wanted to see. He breathed a sigh of relief as he rounded the corner to the library and saw Aldron standing at attention outside the large door.
“Evening, Aldron. Is she in there?”
“Yes, my lord,” Aldron said, and Finnikin wasn’t sure if he was projecting that the other man still had a slight sneer on his face when talking to him. Finnikin nodded to Perri, releasing him of his duty.
He entered the library quietly, spotting her at a large table covered with scrolls, journals, and heavy tomes, including his own, well-worn, finally completed Book of Lumatere that he’d presented to her on her last birthday. He marveled at the sight of her, at the hair that reached her shoulders, hair that would never be shorn again. He gazed at her strong, capable hands, ink-stained hands that had built a nation. She was furiously scribbling notes on a spare bit of parchment, though they employed the finest scribes in the land. That was his queen. He’d be much more surprised to find her dictating her thoughts to a scribe than he was to see her in her current state. She’d accepted that as queen, she’d have to let others take on some responsibility so she could rule, but she’d still prefer to do for herself if at all possible.
“Aldron still hates me for marrying you, you know.”
Isaboe took a sharp intake of breath, her lips curving into a smile, but she stubbornly refused to look up from her notes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Isaboe said. “Besides, he’s rather busy these days courting that lovely girl from the Flatlands.”
“Well, you’d never know it from the way he glared at me just now.” Finnikin crossed the room slowly, waiting to see if she’d break and look at him before he got to her.
“Maybe that was because you’re back a full three days earlier than expected. He’s a stickler for a well-planned schedule, you know.”
“Is that right?” Finnikin asked, coming to crouch by her chair.
“Mm-hmm,” Isaboe said. “You know, I knew I should have married the prince from Osteria. Surely he would give sufficient notice of his arrival so I could look presentable.”
“Is it too late to make that happen? Because I could use a nap.”
Isaboe finally turned her head to glare at him. “You’re supposed to say ‘you look beautiful, my love, what a sight for sore eyes you are.’”
Finnikin grabbed an ink-stained hand, pressing his lips to her palm first, then the tips of her fingers. “I have never seen anything more beautiful, my queen,” he said truthfully, not having the heart to keep up their teasing after the long weeks he’d spent away from the most important person in the world.
“That’s more like it,” Isaboe sniffed imperiously, but it did nothing to hide the happy sheen of tears in her eyes. “Hello, it’s you.”
“It’s me,” he affirmed, laughing as she launched herself into his arms, nearly knocking him backward onto the hard stone floor, joyously kissing him silly.
“Hello, my love,” he murmured against her lips. Bending his head down to the slight swell of her belly, he pressed his lips against her dress and said “hello to you too, little one.”
“We missed you,” Isaboe said, tugging his head back up to steal another long, searing kiss. “Myself more than the babe, I should think.”
“You have no idea,” Finnikin replied, burying his head in the curve of her shoulder and holding her tight against him. All these months of marriage and he still marveled at how desperate her touch made him.
“Oh, don’t I,” Isaboe said vehemently.
Finnikin’s lips curved against her skin as he felt her hands at his belt. “Surely not in front of the books? What would your strapping Osterian prince have to say about that?”
Isaboe straddled Finnikin’s legs, grinning down at him. “These books survived the Ten Years’ Curse, I think they’ll survive the shock somehow. And the Osterian prince…” She leaned down and kissed Finnikin soundly. “Strapping boy or not, he could never compare with my Lumateran king.”
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