*Hidi*
The room served as a library, but Hidi found it suited her needs better than the rest of the castle. The space embraced her with its grandeur—arched doorways framing her entrance like a living portrait, while the high, vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate flora carvings and subtle pink accents drew her gaze upward. Large, arched windows with stained glass panels filtered soft, golden light that danced across the polished wooden floors, casting kaleidoscopic hues that shifted with each passing cloud. The gentle warmth against her skin felt like a blessing after the cooler hallways. It afforded Hidi just enough space to move about in her crinoline without the familiar anxiety of breaking something or having to duck—a rare comfort for someone of her stature.
With a color palette predominantly soft and pastel, with creamy whites, pale pinks, and touches of muted gold, it was also quite easy on her eyes. The small, feminine touches created an atmosphere of elegance that made her shoulders relax imperceptibly. These were likely Belinda's choices rather than Alexander's. This room was for a woman's comfort and sanctuary, not a man's, and Hidi found herself more at home here because of it.
Mama would like this room, too. Hidi could agree with that with an appraising eye, her large hand grazing the plush and ornate sofa with tufted upholstery and numerous pillows. The fabric yielded beneath her touch, soft yet sturdy. She knew her mother well enough to almost predict her tastes, the way her critical eyes would assess each corner before giving a rare nod of approval. Just as she already knew what she was going to meet before she even bothered to break the seal, her stomach tightened in anticipation.
Hidi knew, but still, with a loaded sigh that made the off-white laced ruffles of her neckline jitter against her collarbone, Hidi reached for the desk knife. The cool metal warmed quickly in her grip. With effortless strength that belied her delicate appearance, she sliced through the yellow wax, which split with a satisfying crack. A soft puff of sweet yet oily aroma wafted up—her mother's distinctive seal—before the hardy smell of pine and parchment filled her senses, transporting her momentarily to the forests of home. Her mother's hand immediately jumped from the page before she could fully pull it out of the envelope, the loopy script with heavy ink pressing deep enough to leave impressions on the reverse. The passage was short.
Hidi's jaw tightened, a muscle flickering at the corner. She immediately knew what that meant before even reading a single sentence. Her mother... was livid.
"Hildenberg, " the letter started, and Hidi could swear she could hear the very tone her mother would use, the one where it stuck between her teeth and her nose. "What in the name of all the gods do you think you are doing!? How is it I retire but still end up working all the same because you are not here? First to Nocthen for the bastard girls' coronation, and then to forlic in Dawny?"
Hidi rolled her eyes, the letter trembling slightly in her grip as she fought the childish urge to crumple it. "Mama doesn't understand. I have been working hard." Building up my relations with Nicoli. Something which Hidi was quite proud of, the progress astounding. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of his smile. But she knew better than to mention that to her mother. Bratha was not a romantic like Hidi; if a man or woman was an effort to win over, she dropped them. The imagined sound of her mother's dismissive snort rang in Hidi's ears. She'd say it was a waste of her time.
But Nicoli is not a waste. Her mother would see that as soon as she met him. Hidi smiled, her fingertips finding the opal brooch on her bodice. The smooth texture was slightly cool to the touch, like water over stone, giving her ease as she read on. Her mother's words still seething through the ink, practically burning her fingers.
"Stop fooling around and return home. Remember, I chose you as my successor. But your brothers and sisters can easily replace you. So don't make me regret picking you. Come home now, Mama."
Hidi had to laugh out loud, the sound bursting from her chest like a startled bird. "Replace me, she says?" The sound was full and hit the ceiling to echo against the very room, bouncing back to her own ears. She moved the letter back and tossed it onto the table with a flick of her wrist. The envelope collided with the bouquet of white and pink flowers with a soft clunk, disturbing a petal that floated down to rest on the parchment.
Mama's just upset because she can't have free time to spend with her lovers. The bitter thought tasted like metal on her tongue. Her mother didn't really mean it. Her threats were harmless, like summer thunder without rain. She would never dream of pushing Hidi off the throne.
Because Hidi was her favorite.
"But what a way to ruin the mood." Hidi leaned back into the sofa with a creak that seemed to voice her frustration. The cushion was just a little too small for her dress and herself, the whalebone of her crinoline digging uncomfortably into her sides, but it was too pretty not to sit on. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet room. She was having fun here—her skin had taken on a glow that had nothing to do with the southern sun and everything to do with the time spent in Nicoli's company. Why did she have to leave just yet? Mama could handle it. It wasn't like Hidi really did much when she was there. Her mother was the one who read the statespapers or sat through those stuffy council meetings, the air thick with pipe smoke and male ego. Her presence would just be there in name only, a crown atop a head that nodded when told.
But it wasn't like she didn't see this coming. The knowledge had been a shadow at the edges of her happiness these past weeks.
And Mama has a point; Hidi had to agree, her shoulders slumping slightly.
Hidi had stayed longer than she should have. She had remained through the entire winter, watching frost patterns on windows transform into dewdrops as winter turned to spring. And a part of her did miss her home—the smell of ice and pine in the air that cleared her lungs with each breath, the cool mornings that painted her cheeks pink naturally, the mountains standing sentinel like old friends. There was a part of her that was homesick, a hollow ache beneath her ribs that sometimes caught her unawares.
Homesick, yes, but compared to being lovesick, to go without seeing Nicoli's beautiful smile? Or to hear his rich and ever-deepening laugh that seemed to vibrate through her very bones—well—
"I suppose long-distance has its charms too." Hidi had to comfort herself. The idea was romantic.
Though nothing beats the real thing, Hidi gazed over the bouquet, noting the soft petals and delicate folds of the first flowers of spring. The clean and grassy smell was faint but notable, a promise of renewal that somehow made the impending separation more acute. But before melancholy could take root, another sense stole her attention—the soft pressure of confident steps bounding up the wooden planks outside, each footfall sending a tiny vibration through the floorboards that Hidi felt through the thin soles of her slippers.
That didn't take long. Hidi smiled and was already sitting up, smoothing her skirts with suddenly trembling hands, her gaze directed at the open doorway just in time. A set of sapphire-colored eyes immediately sparked to life as soon as they could reach her from the threshold, like stars appearing at dusk.
"Hidi!" Nicoli greeted, breathless, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his vest. His copper cheeks were tinged with a flushed peachy-pink tone that spread down his neck. "Morning!"
"Nicoli." His name tasted like honey on her tongue. Hidi stole the chance to admire his visage with secret glee, her eyes drinking him in like someone parched. Nicoli had grown again, another few inches, and thus his wardrobe was starting to become more mature, making it all the more fun for Hidi to observe the change.
Today's outfit was a navy blue tailcoat with pinstripe detailing and silver buttons that caught the light with each breath he took. Underneath, a light-colored shirt with ruffles and a black ribbon tie that bobbed with his Adam's apple. They had switched his pants to shorts because of the warming weather, revealing calves that had begun to show definition.
Hidi noted the slight ghost of muscle already forming under his skin, making her swallow hard. All together, the color scheme agreed with him, the blue bringing out his eyes in a way that made her chest tighten. The grey vest underneath pulled it all together. He looked presentable, princely. Well, Hidi almost had to smile at the attempt.
She could see the efforts to pomade and comb back his curls were for nothing; they rebelled against constraint, just like him. "Did you run all the way here?" she asked, noticing how his hair was a disheveled halo around his face. But that's what Hidi liked. His wild and unkempt manner was still there behind the layers and attempts to be mature. He was always a little messy somehow. 'Careless' would be the word, but it was also charming, like a painting that became more beautiful for its imperfections.
Even now, with his cheeks pink and his hair a tangled mess from running, Hidi found him so captivating that her fingers itched to reach out and smooth those wayward curls. And the boy was already growing darker from being outside, his skin taking on the golden hue that spoke of hours in the garden. His impulse to go back into the gardens was like second nature to him, greedily making up for the time he had to spend inside, confined by lessons and propriety.
It will be a shame to see that tan go once we live together back home. Hidi lamented slightly, imagining his complexion fading to match the pallor of her homeland's residents. Almony wasn't sunny like Dawny. But he would get used to it. He had no other choice. But that was a problem nine years from now—a future she both longed for and dreaded for how it would change him.
Nicoli puffed with a smirk before stepping deeper into the room, the floorboards creaking under his eager stride. "Yeah, of course I ran." He spoke with an air between a snark and a statement, his breath still not fully recovered.
Hidi felt her heart skip, a flutter beneath her ribs like a caged bird. "You ran over to see me?" Her voice softened, a hint of vulnerability she rarely showed peeking through.
Was that a confession? She nearly moved to stand, ready to open her arms and hug him, joy spreading through her chest like warmth from a fire. Overjoyed—
"I was hoping to see you too—"
"I saw him head your way," Nicoli cut in, stopping in front of the small white table. His eyes were glued to the letter, not to her face, not seeing how her expression froze. "Postmaster Nettle came to see you. You have a letter."
Hidi faltered slightly, her outstretched hand falling back to her side like a wounded bird. "Is... you came for the letter?" Her words came out slowly, almost painfully, each syllable dragging across her tongue. The pain cracked out like a web in her chest as she saw him nod, the sound of breaking glass echoing in her ears though nothing had shattered but her momentary hope.
"Yeah, why else would I run?" He asked, blinking up at her, his eyes wide and clear, innocent of the damage his words inflicted. Again, Hidi felt another crack spread from her heart to her throat.
Why? Because it's me. Because if nothing else, I am your friend. And soon to be your wife— Hidi bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste copper, forcing back the rush of disappointment and slight anger that threatened to show on her face. Her fingers curled into her palm, nails leaving crescent moons in the soft flesh.
Her hand flexed slightly, gripping her skirt until her knuckles whitened beneath her gloves. She pressed a smile to her lips, the muscles in her face stiff with the effort, as Nicoli carried on, clueless as always.
"As soon as I heard, I had to find out," Nicoli went on, his eyes falling to the envelope again, hunger in his gaze that had never been directed at her. "So, is it from her?" He voiced with eagerness that practically vibrated in the air between them, making Hidi's teeth clench. "Is it from Ana? Has she finally written?"
"No, it—" Hidi forced a gulp down, the lump in her throat making it difficult to breathe. She reached to lift the letter, her fingers trembling slightly despite her efforts at control. The flash of yellow wax said it all, making the boy's face fall, crushed like the flowers she sometimes pressed between book pages. "It's from Mama."
"Your Mama?" Nicoli mirrored, his face falling further, the light dimming in his eyes. But not for long; his gaze darted from her hands to the table in search of something, like a hound on a scent. "There isn't another?" He went again, still eagerly, his body leaning forward slightly. "Are you sure? Ana would have written by now."
He nodded to himself, a nervous gesture that made a curl fall across his forehead. "Yes, by now. She has to."
But Hidi had to shake her head, wagging her blond braid slightly. The weight of it pulled at her scalp, grounding her in the moment. "No," Hidi only received one letter, the lonely envelope mocking her. "Just Mama writes." But that didn't mean she wasn't peeved by it. In fact, now that she thought about it, she felt a twitch of annoyance run up her chest, hot and sharp.
Why hadn't Ana written to her? Did she not promise she would? And yet–
"Oh," Nicoli's eyes fell. "I would have thought she'd write by now."
"So did I," Hidi didn't hide her annoyance, a bitter edge creeping into her voice that made the words cut like the letter opener she'd used earlier. "She should know better."
It was one thing not to write to Nicoli—truth be told, Hidi preferred it that way. Ana's letters only ever made Nicoli's eyes soften, his voice warm. And that bothered her that he could make an expression for Ana but not for her. She wanted him to look like that for her, to be obsessed with her, excited to see her, to be the reason he would run first thing in the morning and–
Hidi had to stop herself, her mind wandering down familiar paths of longing. Her pulse quickened, and she pressed her hand against her bodice to steady it. No, she preferred that Nicoli not get distracted so quickly by Ana. She only agreed to write for his sake, not her own. So Ana's silence was more a blessing in disguise, a gift wrapped in disappointment. However...
But to ignore her letter? Her letter? That—that was an offense that made her blood simmer.
Did Ana forget? Or worse... ignore her? The thought made Hidi's jaw clench, a vein pulsing at her temple.
Oh no. That wouldn't do. Not at all.
No one ignored Hidi. Not her mama, whose attention she'd fought for against siblings who all wanted the crown. Not her brothers, who learned quickly that her smile could turn to ice in an instant. Not her sisters, who envied her position. Not even her father, who rarely noticed any of his children. Certainly not Ana. Hidi was a queen, after all. And while she considered Ana a friend—maybe even a dear one—that didn't mean Ana got to overlook her. Friendship didn't mean Hidi would forgive such slights. Rather, it was much easier to fall from her graces than to keep it.
Hidi shifted her jaw, slow and deliberate, like someone suppressing the urge to bite, the grinding of her teeth audible in the quiet room.
Ana has no idea the trouble she's in when I see her again. I will have to punish her.
Mildly, of course.
She was her friend. And more importantly, Nicoli's sister. It wasn't like she could chop off her hand like she'd once threatened Lady Pole for spilling wine on her hem. No, not Ana. But this was not going to be overlooked. If Ana wanted to be so mindless, then Hidi would have to remind her. A little sting that would make Ana remember whose letter she had failed to answer.
Still, Hidi relented with an exaggerated sigh, her tone softening for Nicoli's benefit, though the steel remained in her eyes. "Ana does have her hands full, though. Perhaps she's just distracted, is all?" She waved a hand dismissively, the gesture too rigid to be casual.
Not that Hidi thought that was a good enough excuse. She was starting to think this might be Ana's big character flaw; she put work before everything. Something Hidi would never relate to. But the excuse was more for Nicoli's sake than her own. She could clearly see he was upset by Ana's lack of response, his brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.
Nicoli's brows perked up with concern, a vertical line appearing between them. "Hands full?" He repeated, voice lilting with worry.
"Ja," Hidi lifted a hand to flick dismissively, the gesture practiced to appear effortless, though her fingers still trembled slightly with suppressed emotion. "It doesn't seem things are going well with her little pet project with the pirates. Supplies are messed up. Again." That much Hidi knew, judging by her mother's complaints about the spending Nochten was doing on their purse, complaints that filled pages of earlier letters.
"I know Father has work here, but he should get over there soon." Hidi went on with a weighted sigh that made her bodice strain against her ribs. "Even I would have left by now."
Though I have my reasons to stay, Hidi secretly smiled, glancing at Nicoli from beneath her lashes, a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with the sunlit room.
"I am surprised he hasn't left already."
"What are you talking about?" Nicoli looked at her more seriously, his body shifting to face her fully, attention captured at last. "What's going on?"
"You don't know?" Hidi had to smile, proud to be privy to something he wasn't, the knowledge a small victory. "Hasn't Papa told you?"
"Don't call him 'papa'. He's not your dad." Nicoli started, a flash of irritation crossing his features before concern took its place, the emotions playing across his face like shadows. "Father—no, I—" Nicoli paused, something like confliction washing over his features, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "We... I don't really want to talk with him right now."
"No?" Now, Hidi had to raise a curious brow, the skin between her eyes crinkling. He didn't want to? Hidi felt her interest pique, sitting forward slightly, the sofa creaking beneath her shift in weight. "That's funny; I thought you were close to your Papa."
"That, it's complicated." Nicoli went again with a heavy breath that seemed to deflate him, his shoulders dropping. "It's... kinda has to do with my parents fighting."
"Oh?" Hidi sat up, eyes sparkling with intrigue, leaning toward him like a flower toward the sun. "Do tell—" But before the words could finish, something caught her eye. Someone was passing their open door, footsteps hurried and purposeful. The figure stopped, noticing them with a quick bow that barely paused his momentum.
"Your majesties," the older servant greeted, before standing up straight, his breathing slightly labored. "Did the post master just stop by here?" He asked with tight urgency, fingers fidgeting with his sleeve.
"Ja, but that was about ten minutes ago," Hidi answered, feeling something prickly on the back of her neck, like the air before a storm. That's the king's butler, isn't it? The thought flicked across Hidi's mind, accompanied by a twinge of curiosity that made her tilt her head.
"Thank you, your majesties." Johan returned, and just like that, he turned on his heel and went back into the hall, his footsteps fading rapidly. The man's speed was a surprise considering his age, and the dire look on his face—
Where is he off to in such a hurry? Hidi pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, curious, tasting the lingering sweetness of her morning tea. Something was happening out there, wasn't it? A part of her tingled at the thought of finding out what, adrenaline beginning to hum in her veins.
But as she thought to get up, her eyes fell back to the letter, the yellow wax catching the light like a warning beacon. Her mother's message to return, her limited time ticking away now, suddenly making the butler's hurry seem unimportant. The weight of duty settled back on her shoulders, heavy as her crown.
Nothing was when Nicoli was here. His presence eclipsed all else, like the sun outshining stars.
"Come," Hidi stood from the sofa with a hard creak of the wood that seemed to protest her decision, her skirts rustling as they settled around her. Her hand eagerly caught Nicoli's arm, the warmth of him even through layers of fabric sending a thrill up her spine. She looped her arm through his, propriety giving her an excuse for closeness. "Let's enjoy the day. I want to see the fountain again." And Hidi took the lead before Nicoli could decide whether to agree or not, her grip firm but gentle.
Not that Hidi would stop. She was going to make the most out of her time left, storing memories like treasures to sustain her through the coming separation. And Nicoli was her priority, the tick of the clock in her head counting down their remaining hours together.
Things like the mysterious butler, why Nicoli wasn't talking to his father, or even Ana's silence didn't matter in the grand scheme of her heart's desires. She had better things to spend her time on—namely, the boy beside her whose every smile was worth more than her crown.
*King Alexander*
"You didn't find anything? Are you sure?" Alexander pressed, his lungs constricting as if steel bands tightened around his chest. His gaze abandoned the damning report, desperately seeking Johan's eyes, hunting for some unwritten detail, some flicker of promise that might contradict the words on paper—paper destined for flames to protect their investigation.
Or rather, their failure.
Johan ran a hand through his graying hair, the afternoon light from the window catching the silver strands. "I caught up with Nettle myself, in the midst of delivering the mail. He had nothing on the platter for you." His voice remained steady, professional, though Alexander caught the subtle tightening around his eyes. "Nettle confirmed all mail has been delivered according to protocol."
Alexander nodded, absorbing this. "Another dead end, then."
"It seems so. Julia's room was clean." Johan replied, his posture still military-straight despite hours of investigation. "As were the rooms of all Her Majesty's attendants." He paced two measured steps, the floorboards creaking softly beneath his boots. "I was thorough, Sire. Nothing was overlooked."
Alexander rose from his chair and moved to the window. Outside, the palace gardens had erupted in spring's first bold declaration—cherry blossoms drifted like pale confetti, while ambitious crocuses pushed through the thawing earth. Life continued its relentless cycle while inside these walls, time seemed to run in ever-tightening circles.
"This is not the news I was hoping for," Alexander observed, his reflection ghostly in the glass. Another week of nothing. The hollowness beneath his ribs expanded with each passing day, swallowing more of him as excuses wore thinner than parchment. He pressed his palm against the cool window pane, as if he might reach through it to wherever Ana might be.
Johan came to stand beside him, both men gazing outward but seeing different vistas. "I remain convinced that Julia was hiding correspondence, Your Majesty. The behavior I witnessed was unmistakable."
Alexander turned from the window, his movements controlled. "I believe you, old friend. If you say you saw it, then it happened." He returned to his desk, trailing his fingers along the carved edge as he thought. "But if the letters are being delivered, and yet we cannot find them..."
Alexander's fingertips began a rhythmic percussion against the oak desk—tap-tap-tap—the sound amplified in the suffocating silence. Each tap pulled at fragments of thought: Julia's hidden letter, Johan's fruitless searches, empty rooms that should have yielded something. Anything.
They had investigated everyone who could possibly be intercepting or storing the letters, except—
"I think we both know we aren't going to find anything, Sire." Johan's words cut through to speak the harsh truth. "They likely destroyed the letters. It's the only way to explain the lack of evidence. "
Alexander flinched at the idea. Not wanting to hear it, but knew just as much it was a likely possibility. Still, there were issues with the theory. "Gods, Johan. But how? When? Destroying Royal Mail is–"
"An offense punishable by death, I know, Sire." Johan didn't miss a beat, but a flicker of a brow raised showed Alexander, the man, wasn't completely convinced. A subtle arch of his eyebrow revealed the man wasn't fully convinced by his own theory.
Alexander sat again, his chair groaning softly beneath his weight. The carved arms were smooth from generations of royal hands that had gripped them while making decisions that shaped kingdoms. Now they anchored him as his mind worked through the implications.
"Johan, you have an idea, don't you?" Alexander said, tapping one finger against the armrest. "Where else could it be? We've examined the mail routes, questioned the postmaster, searched the servants' quarters." He looked up at Johan, noting the deepening lines around his friend's mouth—evidence of their shared concern. "Who would have both the motive and the means to intercept these letters without leaving a trace?"
Johan hesitated, his chest rising and falling with a measured breath. The birdsong outside seemed to fade as the weight of unspoken thoughts filled the room.
"Your Majesty," he began, voice pitched low despite the private setting, "there is one avenue we haven't explored." He smoothed an invisible wrinkle from his sleeve, a habit Alexander recognized as Johan's way of preparing to venture into difficult territory.
Alexander leaned forward slightly, the quiet scratch of fabric against wood the only sound in the room. "Go on."
"We've investigated everyone who might be hiding these letters," Johan said carefully. "Everyone except..."
The air in the room seemed to thicken. Alexander held Johan's gaze, understanding dawning with the slow inevitability of nightfall.
"Except Belinda herself," Alexander finished, the name falling between them like a stone into still water.
Johan nodded once, his expression grave. "Yes, Sire."
Understanding crashed over Alexander like winter seawater. His heart hammered hard enough to bruise his ribs.
"Do you mean—?" The words died in his throat. Would Belinda honestly go that far? Alexander didn't want to believe it, but Johan's expression remained unmoved, resolute as stone.
He did mean it.
"That's a serious suggestion," he said finally, his back to Johan. "With equally serious consequences."
"I wouldn't propose it if I saw any other possibility," Johan replied. Alexander heard him shift his weight, the floorboard releasing a soft complaint. "But we've exhausted all other options."
Alexander turned, studying his oldest friend. Johan had stood beside him through war and peace, triumph and tragedy. His loyalty was beyond question. Which made his suspicion all the more troubling.
"If you search Her Majesty's belongings and find nothing," Alexander said, voice low, "I may not be able to protect you from her reaction." The unspoken danger hung between them. The mere suggestion constituted treason. If they were wrong—if they found nothing—Alexander couldn't shield Johan from punishment if Belinda demanded it. And given the glacial state of their marriage...
Johan straightened, squaring his shoulders. I understand the risk, Sire."
Alexander moved back to his desk, feeling the weight of the crown he wasn't currently wearing. "And if you find evidence that Belinda has been intercepting Ana's letters..." He left the sentence unfinished, the implications hanging in the air between them.
It would mean treason. It would mean a trial, perhaps an execution. It would mean Nicoli losing his mother and likely turning against Alexander forever. The already strained relationship with his son would rupture beyond repair.
Yet if they did nothing, Ana remained alone and unprotected, somewhere beyond their reach. His daughter—Parsul's daughter—vulnerable to forces they couldn't see or fight.
Every choice before him exacted a terrible price.
Johan waited in respectful silence as Alexander weighed the impossible scales of his decision. Outside, the cheerful chorus of birds continued, oblivious to the heavy silence within. The sun inched lower, casting longer shadows across the study floor.
"I will need your official permission," Johan said finally. "As king. I cannot search Her Majesty's private chambers without it."
Alexander released a breath that seemed to carry pieces of his soul. Part of him prayed Johan was right, for his friend's sake. But the other part recoiled at the implications.
If Belinda had done this…
Alexander swallowed against the knot in his throat, turning toward the one anchor in his increasingly treacherous world. His eyes found her portrait as they had countless times before. Each glance brought the same bittersweet jolt—momentary joy at seeing her face, followed by the crushing reminder that it was merely pigment and canvas.
How he longed for the real thing.
Parsul smiled down at him, eternally enigmatic. Her lips curved upward, revealing the tips of her fangs, frozen forever in that expression. But Alexander could almost swear urgency blazed in her painted eyes. A silent plea to hurry.
Save her, she seemed to beg without a voice. Protect her. Hurry.
Our daughter is all alone.
Alexander spread his palm over the polished desk, feeling the wood warm beneath his feverish skin. A ghostly handprint lingered as he withdrew, fading slowly as he weighed his impossible choice.
A choice that might mean Belinda's execution or... Johan's.
Alexander studied his oldest friend, understanding the warning contained in that simple request. Johan remained his sole comfort in a castle grown cold and hostile—a wife who was wife in name only, their marriage a frozen wasteland; a son drifting further away with each passing day.
And now this—possibly the most damning decision of all.
If Johan found the letters, Belinda would face execution. Nicoli would lose his mother–And Alexander his son's love. If he found nothing, Belinda's wrath might cost him his oldest friend.
And if he refused to search at all, Ana would remain beyond reach, alone and unprotected.
Still...
Please, Alexander offered a silent prayer to any god still listening. But he knew with bone-deep certainty that this would extract a terrible price.
Just don't let it be too much.
"Do it," he said at last. "But Johan—" he looked up, meeting his friend's eyes, "—be absolutely certain before you bring me what you find. The consequences will fall on all of us."
Johan bowed, understanding exactly what his king was asking. "Yes, Your Majesty."
As Johan moved toward the door, Alexander felt spring's promise fade from the room, replaced by the chill of what was to come. Outside his window, petals continued to fall, beautiful in their descent.