“I’ll have to go to Dorcia to rally the troops.” Margaret’s father set down the bulletin that brought the news of war to the public. He ran a hand over his face before pulling it back through his hair. Dark bags hung under his eyes; he wasn’t sleeping much. “I’ll have to lead them to the front.”
Margaret nearly dropped her scone. “Papa, you can’t! You don’t even know how to fight.”
“I am their leader, Margaret.”
“You know nothing of war, Papa. Mama, tell him!” Margaret protested, her voice raising as she whined. “Tell him he can’t go!”
“He can make his own decisions without you putting your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Margaret glared at her. “Don’t you even care that he could die because he doesn’t know what he’s doing? That our people could suffer because he’s never led troops into battle?”
“Your father knows what he’s doing, Margaret,” her mother sharply replied. “He certainly knows more than you do when it comes to these matters.”
“Could you not go only as moral support as the troops gather? What would happen to Mother and me if you were no longer with us?” Her mouth went dry at the thought. They would have no one to protect them in the world, and without an heir named, the king could seize their lands and appoint whomever he’d like as the new Count of Dorcia.
“Margaret, that is enough,” her father said.
“But—”
“I beg your pardon, young lady,” her father snapped, “but I will not be the sole person making decisions. I will have advisors and tacticians who do have experience.”
Her mother raised her hand when Margaret started to protest again. “That is enough, Margaret. If I hear any more from you, you will be sent from the table. Now apologize to your father.”
“I’m sorry, Papa, but if it’s you or them, I’d rather it be them.”
“Margaret!” Her father looked shocked she would say such a thing.
“My dear, she’s just worried.” Her mother touched his arm. “I’m worried too, but we have to face adversity head on, or else it will get the best of us.”
“Couldn’t you at least appoint a lord general?” Margaret’s blue eyes were stained with fear. “You could lead from behind or stay with our people to keep their spirits up?”
“I will only be allowed to do what His Majesty commands, but I will ask, if only to make you feel better.” He sighed, leaning back in his seat. Margaret’s nagging had worn on him.
“It will—oh, it will, Papa!” Margaret slid from her seat to kiss him on the cheek. “When will you ask the king?”
“I’m calling on the Duchess of Rivack tomorrow at the palace if you would like me to deliver a letter,” her mother commented.
“Would you?”
She nodded. “It would be no trouble, I’ll be there anyway.”
“I’ll have it for you by the evening, then.”
Margaret grinned. “Thank you, Mama.”
“So she said to him, ‘If you cannot satisfy me, perhaps you can find me someone who can!’” Duchess Cecily chortled, resting her hand holding a handkerchief on her chest as she leaned forward.
Catherine laughed along with the rest of the ladies in the room. When the laughter died down, she stood. “If I may, Duchess, I have some business to attend before returning home?”
“Yes, yes.” Duchess Cecily waved her hand. “You may go.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Catherine curtsied deeply before she left.
She wandered the corridors until she came to the king’s private library. He spent most of his time there because it was a central location to all his advisors. Catherine slipped in through the cracked door, her wide skirts brushing against the dark wood.
The king sat with his back to her. He was at a table covered in maps, his advisors pointed to locations and murmured to each other, taking no notice of her intrusion.
Catherine cleared her throat delicately. “Your Majesty?”
King Sorren turned. “Lady Catherine?” He stood, straightening his clothes. “What can I do for you?”
Pulling a sealed letter from a hidden pocket in her skirts, Catherine offered it to him. “Lord Dorcia asked me to deliver this to you since I would be in the palace today.”
He raised his brows. “What is it?”
“It has to do with the war, Your Majesty.”
King Sorren waved his hand at the men behind him. “Leave us, please.”
Catherine waited until the men had left before speaking again. “He is requesting you allow him to leave to lead his people in the war.”
“I’ve already told him no, my lady.”
“He knows.” Catherine sighed. “Lady Margaret has suggested he go only as moral support to Dorcia and not leave for the war. I would implore you allow him to. Neither of us will hear the end of it if he is not allowed to leave.”
Snorting, King Sorren finally took the letter from her hand and opened it, quickly skimming the contents. “I do not want to risk losing one of my closest friends to this pointless war.”
“Please, Your Majesty. He will be miserable if he doesn’t go, and he might even go without your permission.”
The king sighed. “Jerone is headstrong.”
“I think my daughter’s solution will appease him and make him feel like he’s doing something.” Catherine stepped closer to him, resting a hand on his arm. “If you let him go, you will keep him closer to you by the end of it.”
He still looked hesitant, his eyes starting to squint.
“I will do anything to make him happy, Your Majesty, even if it means him being gone for the entirety of the war.”
Something lit behind his eyes. His voice was husky when he asked, “Anything?”
Catherine boldly kept her eyes on his while color came to her checks. “Anything,” she repeated.
The king curled an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, bringing his face close to hers. “Kiss me,” he commanded in a low voice.
Catherine’s lips tingled when she pressed hers against his. A hand came behind her neck to lock her in place, and she let out a low moan. She reluctantly pulled away from him. “Does that please you, Your Majesty?”
“Greatly,” he rasped, “but I am not sure it’s enough for me to grant your husband leave.”
“Perhaps I should try again?” Catherine bit her lip and did not waver in her gaze.
King Sorren grinned. “Perhaps you should.”
Catherine stood on her toes to propel herself forward and met his mouth hungrily.
Catherine leaned against the king, sweat sliding down her neck. She sighed, closing her eyes, and moved closer to him. He kissed her forehead, stroking her hair back from her face. Excited chills ran through her stomach, and she looked at him with an adoring gaze.
“I’ll give your husband my permission to go to Dorcia but nothing more. He must appoint a lord general to go to war in his place, or my offer will be rescinded.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She smiled brightly at him. “Jerone will be so pleased.”
“You and your daughter will stay here in the city for your own safety,” King Sorren said. “Many of the other peers will be staying here as well; it’s doubtful the Salatians will ever make it this far west, and I have requested additional troops from Frasisca to protect the capital.”
Catherine’s eyes went wide, and her brows raised. “Will they come?”
“Our lack of trade with the rest of Aratia will affect them as well. The less we can trade, the less they can get from us,” he said. “They can’t risk our economy failing and Salatia conquering us. They did not fare well the last time Salatia was too powerful.”
“As Your Majesty wishes.” Catherine pulled away from him, covering her chest with her chemise. “With your permission?”
“Yes, please.” King Sorren stood, adjusting his own clothes. “I would like to see you again.”
“Your Majesty?” Catherine looked at him with wide eyes.
“I’m giving up a great deal by letting Jerone leave. If he dies, who will inherit the lands? He has no heir, and someone who could be against me could marry Lady Margaret and use the profits of your empire for something that does not benefit my purposes. Did you think a single transaction will be enough to let him leave?”
“But you’re a king! Surely, anyone who married Margaret would do as he’s bid by his monarch.”
“A king’s subjects do not do as they’re bid, my lady. As evidenced by your own husband fighting against my orders to stay in the capital.”
Catherine remained silent as she laced her bodice slowly. She had thought many times about being with the king—he had a reputation among the women at court of being a very persuasive and skilled lover—but she had imagined it would be only once and she would forget about her indiscretion. She had enjoyed herself, quite a lot, actually, but the enjoyment was marred with his terms of their union.
“When you’re ready, go to your husband. Tell him the news he wishes to hear, but remember that I would like to see you again, and soon.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Catherine finished dressing quickly and barely curtsied before she left.
Catherine barely remembered the walk from the library to the stables, where her groom waited to take her back home. “Ready the horses,” she commanded, avoiding his gaze. She climbed into the carriage when it pulled up before her and rode silently home. She was not looking forward to seeing her husband. Surely, he would know. He would see it on her face that she had been unfaithful.
“Jerone?” Catherine called once she arrived home. Her voice sounded small to her, like it had lost its power to command.
He poked his head out from the library. “What is it, my dear?”
Tears welled in her eyes when she saw him. She put her hand to her mouth, unable to speak.
Jerone rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. “Catherine, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head, her throat tight. Catherine let out a sob and leaned against his chest.
“Tell me what I can do to help, my love.” He held her tightly, rocking side to side ever so slightly to soothe her. “What’s happened?”
“The king, he”—she broke into a sob before she continued—“he has given you leave to go to Dorcia to appoint a lord general and stay there for the duration of the war. Margaret and I are to remain here.”
“My darling, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine, especially since I’ll be staying in Anatalia.” He smiled and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “And you and Margaret will be well taken care of here. I know His Majesty will look after the both of you.”
That’s what she was afraid of.