“My secretary told me that you wanted to speak to me about my parents?”
I nod. “I’ve been reading over palace memos from the weeks before the country fell to Varga. I’ve discovered some things about King Gregor and Queen Penelope.”
He raises one dark brow. “Oh?”
I gaze at him, and my mouth goes dry and my courage flees. I don’t think I can say the words, so I open my bag and pull out some sheets of printed paper. “I have a summary. Maybe it’s best you just read it, sir.”
He takes the pages from me and walks around the room. I watch him as he reads, studying his face for shock or outrage. He has a strong profile and a short, neat beard like Jakob’s, though his hair is nearly black.
Finally, he looks up and brandishes the notes. “What do you intend to do with these, and the memos?”
My mouth works and it’s a struggle to get the words out. “I thought I would hand everything to a political journalist.”
He holds the pages out to me. “Good. Do it, please.”
My eyebrows shoot up. It’s a moment before I can reach out and take the summary from him. “Really?”
He smiles. “You were expecting me to command you to shred your work and never speak of this again?”
I fold the summary and put it back into my bag. “It crossed my mind. Can I ask why you want this made public?”
He sits on the edge of his desk again and folds his arms. It’s a moment before he speaks, and he says quietly, “I was told horrible things about my parents while I was a prisoner. Things that made me physically sick and glad they were dead. I knew a lot of it had to be lies, but…”
But he never knew for sure. “Sometimes I wonder how you stayed sane all those years, sir.”
He glances up at me, his arms still folded. “Jakob kept me sane. Remus did too, but Jakob was the one who brought us news from the outside world and gave us hope that one day Paravel would be free.” He’s silent for a moment, lost in thought. “I only ever wanted the truth. I loved my parents, but I knew they’d lost the love of the people and failed Paravel.”
He gets to his feet, and so do I, sensing that our meeting is over. He takes my hand again and covers it with his own. Gentle hands, like his brown eyes. “Thank you for doing this. I’m trying to encourage more people from the First Families to work hard for Paravel, and it’s wonderful that you’ve just got on with things yourself. I feel very lucky. I wish there were more like you.”
I smile up at him, feeling a rush of affection for the King. I think I understand why Jakob puts his life on the line again and again for this man. “We’re the lucky ones to have you, sir.”
He smiles at me, a genuine smile as if I’ve taken him by surprise. “I hope I’ll always deserve you saying that.”
“Can I ask you a personal question, sir? Are you planning on getting married?”
He laughs and goes back to his desk. “People in love are always anxious for other people to fall in love. Actually, yes I am.”
“Oh? To who, sir?” I rack my brains trying to think who it could be; who he might have met whose senior enough in rank and is also unmarried. Someone in Paravel? A foreign princess or politician’s daughter? I wait, hoping he might go on, but he just smiles and bids me goodbye.
Only when I arrive home do I realize I forgot to ask the King for a marriage license.
22
Jakob
Two weeks later
Snow is falling as I get carefully out of my car and reach into the back seat for my cane. My sight is back to normal, but learning to walk with two fewer toes and scars covering my legs has been a series of painful reminders. My balance is off. I can’t move quickly. My feet feel strange. Every stumble, every fall, causes blazing pain to my legs.
But I’m here. I’m whole, more or less. I can see the woman I love and touch her. There are ten thousand ways in which things could be so much worse. I don’t love seeing a shrink and being reminded that even my mind is damaged goods. I’ve had two sessions so far, and I’ve been reminded of parts of my consciousness that I didn’t even know I’d closed off.
The part that wants to be gentle with myself and Sachelle.
The part that reminds me to slow the hell down once in a while.
The part that can love.
I admire my silver cane topper, a sleek fox’s head. If I’m going to have to walk around with this thing every day, I at least want it to remind me of something I love. After she saw the cane, Sachelle bought me a long black coat, saying, “There, you could have stepped out of a dramatic novel. A wintry villain who’s about to be softened by true love.”