Chapter 30
Dawn breaks clear and crisp.It winks at me through the small second-floor window opposite the foot of the bed. I roll over, yanking the covers around me.
My head throbs a bit. Likely a little too much elf wine last night. I thought I was drunk on conversation. But I know now that I was just a bit drunk. Unfortunately, unlike last time, there was no drunken kissing to be had.
I crack open my eyes, remembering where I am. This room evokes memories of my attic back home. From the exposed wood of the floors and walls, to the dust that hangs in the air like what I once imagined faeries to look like.
Five more minutes, I would’ve begged back then. Sleeping in for five minutes was a pleasure. I had work to do those days. There would be fishermen who would come and pick things up for themselves or their families before heading out to sea for the morning. I knew when every customer would show up and always had to be preparing for the surprise walk-ins throughout the day.
Now… I’m not sure where I’m meant to be.
Is it the throne? Is it Capton? Is it with Eldas? The uncertainty fills me with shame. I should know unequivocally where I belong; I always have. The duty I’ve always trusted guides me. So many have sacrificed for me—my friends, parents, all of Capton. Any hesitance feels like a betrayal.
“Don’t do this,” I quietly beg my heart. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes until I see stars. I didn’t ask for this, for any of it. And now…now there’s a part of me who doesn’t entirely want to give it all up. Half of my heart is growing roots here, as deep as the redwood throne’s. There’s so much of this world I have yet to see and explore. So much magic that I could delight in if I dared.
I hear the sizzle of something hitting a hot pan and drop my hands. The second the smell of bacon hits my nose, my stomach growls loudly and I’m out of bed. If I must berate myself, I can do so on a full belly.
Wrapping a silken robe around my nightgown, I tiptoe down the stairs. I knew the house was too small for any kind of attendants. I also knew that Eldas said he enjoyed cooking. But there’s something entrancing about actually seeing the man working in the kitchen.
He’s in a simple cotton tunic, thin and humbly made. It has a wide neck and exposes his strong collarbones. Of course, it’s long sleeved, but he’s once more rolled the sleeves up. A canvas apron has been tied around his narrow waist, colored by stains old and new alike. It hides the tight-fitting black trousers underneath. Inky strands of hair have freed themselves from the knot he’s placed half his tresses in to frame his jaw and neck. The other half of his hair moves in sheets of midnight.
I rest my chin in my palm and watch him move. He’s graceful, unhesitant, and easy. Comfortable, I realize at once. This is the look of a man in his element. His brow isn’t weighted by the iron crown, but rather furrowed slightly with focus. Eldas’s eyes are intent and intense. But he wears a small smile on his lips as though every turn of the spoon and flip of the spatula delights him.
It’s almost impossible to imagine that this is the same severe man I first met in the temple all those weeks ago. And he’s your husband, I remind myself. That prompts me to take yet another look at him in yet another way.
He’s as agonizingly handsome as I’ve always known him to be…as I’ve rarely allowed myself to appreciate. His attractiveness has disarmed me on many an occasion. But permitting myself to appreciate it as a wife would has my thighs tensing.
Some women would kill to be you. To have all this, I scold myself. And you want to run away.
It’s as if he senses my turmoil. Because he looks at me with those stunning blue eyes, startled to find me. I try and plaster on a smile and nonchalantly continue down the stairs, as though I weren’t just shamelessly admiring him.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he repeats. “How did you sleep?”
“Very well. The past queens were right; this place is surprisingly refreshing after the redwood throne.” I neglect to mention the dull throb in my head. The last thing I want is for him to suggest we skip the wine tonight, given how delicious it was. “And you?”
“Excellently.” He smiles.
I glance at the couch. I have my doubts about that. Sure, it would be fine for a boy. But there’s no way he can spread out there. “You can have the bed tonight. We can swap.”
“Luella—”
“It’s only fair.”
Eldas has a mischievous glint to his eyes. “I am the king; I think I decide what’s fair.”
“I think you’re wrong. The queen should have a say as well.”
“If she insists, I’d be a fool to fight her.”
“Glad you’ve finally realized.” I assume the same seat as last night, admiring the spread he’s prepared. “You weren’t joking about enjoying cooking.”
“It’s not much.”
“Humility doesn’t suit you.” I flash him a teasing grin and begin to dig in. There are rashers of bacon, fried eggs, hunks of sourdough grilled on the skillet, and every thing tastes better than the last.
“Slow down, no one is going to take it from you,” he says.