Estrella
"At last." I smile across the table at Anwen. "We're alone."
He kisses the back of my hand. "Tonight, but probably not again until this is over. The other kingdoms' delegations arrive tomorrow."
"And a week still separates us from the wedding." I groan in a very un-queenlike way and slump slightly over my steaming bowl of stew. "Your customs are barbaric. Why can you not just sleep in my room?"
He laughs. "And scandolize all the fine court ladies showing up to celebrate us? I barely recognize you."
"We don't bother with this false modesty in Sundrop Gem," I grumble. "A mated couple is understood to be just that: a couple. Wedded or not."
"Soon." His smile sparkles in the low light. "But we have tonight, and I got you a little surprise. Two, actually."
I glance around. The small dining room attached to my chambers looks the same as always. "What is it?"
"First, take a bite." He gestures at the stew.
I gather every ounce of will I have and spoon up a bite. The preparations have kept me busy enough that I can almost forget how little I like the bland food in Dun's Crossing, but their so-called stews are the worst of all. Mush on mush, without an ounce of spice to brighten it. When this is over, I think I'll miss the stews the least.
The bite crosses my palate, and it's... fine. The pale green stalks they call celery actually retain a bit of their uncooked crunch, the meat has a pleasant gaminess, and there's a tiny spark on the back of my tongue, the barest suggestion of spice.
Anwen watches me intently, clearly waiting for a reaction.
"Did you do this?" I ask rather than telling him my exact feelings.
"Yes, I did." He leans back, looking proud. "I memorized everything you said on our walk the other day and took it right to the chef."
I splutter a laugh. "And how did the chef feel about that?"
"I've definitely seen Magritte happier." He rubs the back of his neck. "But I want you to be able to eat when we visit."
The easy way he plans our future warms a spot in my chest Magritte's paltry imitation of spice can't reach.
"Did he pull it off, though?" Anwen asks.
"Why don't you try it and see?" I gesture to his bowl with a smile. The surprise is sweet, but I make a mental note to seal the alliance between our two kingdoms with a basket of the spices Nasir grinds and mixes himself for our food. Perhaps then, Magritte will have more success.
Anwen takes a bite with a huge smile, then shoots back from the table, spluttering. His nose runs, and his eyes tear. My heart leaps into my throat. It's another assassination attempt. He's being poisoned! I start to reach for Tess, Cristofer, anyone through the mind-link.
A faint burn takes up residence in the back of my throat, like a bit of pepper gone down the wrong way. I blink. I am no expert in poisons, but I'm reasonably certain they tend to hurt a good deal more than that.
Anwen thumps his chest. "Goddess above, Magritte took my intervention like shit. Seems like he really overdid my bowl as some kind of revenge."
"That is awful." I steal a bite from Anwen's, half out of curiosity and half to still the terrified pounding of my heart. It is exactly as spicy as my own.
He wipes a tear. "You see?"
I cannot help it. I burst into laughter so wild I have to clutch my sides and cover my mouth.
"What?" he asks, almost wounded in his confusion.
I only laugh harder. That first morning, in the tent, Anwen seemed like a bulwark of ice, an impossible-to-reach, heartless monster. Goddess, I remember the way he bore up under the bite pain that nearly knocked me to my knees. But a bit of black pepper and some laughter, and there's no sign of the cocksure prince I hated so much. Tears run down my cheeks from sheer, overwhelmed amusement.
"Well, maybe I won't give you your second surprise," he says sulkily.
"No, no." I shake my head. "Give me a moment, I just... oh, the stew is barely spiced, much less spicy."
He blinks then chuckles. "I guess I'll have to build up my tolerance. I can't exactly do that at a state dinner."
That sets me off again, picturing him spewing the barely seasoned rice we make for children in Rhys Ibarra's surprised face. Long minutes and several sips of rich wine pass before I can breathe normally again.
"Apologies, truly." I pat Anwen's hand. "I do not mean to insult you."
He smiles at me indulgently. "It's just good to see you laugh."
I wipe the last of the tears from my eyes. "It is good to laugh. Father would have wanted me to."
"Speaking of"-Anwen takes another very small bite and immediately chases it with bread-"I have some news."
"Oh?" I should've known he would take my laughter as a challenge. He only grimaced this time.
"I told you about the feather."
"The tern, yes?" I stomach another bite just as bravely. It really is still mediocre. "What about it?"
"It's native to the region around Floyd's manor, and the rogue, Birsha, said his employer supplied the arrow. I figure that's as close to damning as we're going to get." He sops up some of the liquid with his bread and eats it without grimacing at all. "But Floyd isn't the only Snowcrest noble with holdings in that region. I don't want to get cocky and count the rest of them out."
Exhaustion drags on my limbs. So many weeks of running around like chickens with our heads cut off, stealing moments together when we can, and we spend nearly every one of them discussing the investigation. I want to discuss it-I want to know what is happening, how close we are to catching Father's true killer-and I love that Anwen is as dedicated to the task as I am. But all the lightness and laughter disappears from the room as soon as the conversation begins.
"I was not intending to," I say. "I simply do not know all these court politics as well as you. Is there anything we can do beyond keeping our guard up?"
"I've been thinking about that." He sits back in his chair. "Kieran's making sure no one's allowed on the ballroom balcony this time around, just in case."
I nod.
"But on the ground, I was thinking about potentially holding an archery tournament in a few two days. Just a little sporting competition between the kingdoms." His eyes glow. "If we provide the targets, then we can collect the arrows and-"
Abruptly, it is all too much. Castor would adore an archery tournament, but he won't participate here, and he'd be even more against it if he learned it was Anwen's idea. And that cannot even matter because the tournament, like the rest of our wedding planning, is about the moment my father's blood was spilled.
"Stop," I say.
Anwen snaps his mouth shut.
I don't want to be the newly crowned Luna Queen Estrella, bridge between two kingdoms. I want to be a woman with the man I love. There was a whisper of that feeling in the air when I was laughing, but the last time I truly felt it was in the dunes outside of the capital.
"If our wedding wasn't part of a scheme"-I trace my fingers over the back of his hand on the table-"what would it be like?"
"Oh." He pauses for a minute, and I can almost see the thoughts churning through his mind as he changes direction. "Um, I don't know. What would you want?"
"I asked you." I study his face, the small wrinkle between his eyebrows. He's startled, confused.
"I've never really thought about it." He shakes his head. "As in, with anyone. Planning a wedding... well, that's the sort of thing women do."
I smile dangerously. "And running a kingdom is the sort of thing men do?"
"Now you're putting words in my mouth." He grins back at me.
"Put your own in, then. I asked you a question." I cross my arms and stare him down.
"Shit, okay." He runs a hand through his hair. "I'd invite everybody to arrive a lot closer to the actual event, not a week early. Then, you know, ceremony, reception, wedding night. The usual."
"That's trite, and I know you're more clever than that." I trace the band of his tattoo. "Think about it. This is the moment that tells the Moon Goddess Herself we'll spend the rest of our lives together. All you really want is a bit more unstructured time?"
He blows out a long breath. "No laughing this time, okay?"
"By the light of the Moon Goddess," I say with a small smile.
"Honestly, I wouldn't just have them arrive closer to the day. I... wouldn't have them arrive." He shrugs. "If we could really do whatever we wanted, I wouldn't have anyone there but us and a holy woman. That's all it's about, right? We've already announced what we need to the world; the rest is personal." He glances at me and away again, almost shy. "I'd take the holy woman out somewhere. Maybe that oasis back in Sundrop. And I'd speak our vows where only the Goddess could see us."
My chest aches, and for a moment, I think it's his pain. But it's well and truly mine. Since I was old enough to understand, I knew I would have a huge wedding someday. In Sundrop, it's a seven-day ceremony for royalty, and each day has its own outfit or three. A parade of drinking and dancing and politicking. Always politicking. I've never considered anything else. But now that Anwen's said this, my chest aches with how badly I want it. One private moment in our public lives, between us and the Goddess alone.
"Fuck, I'm sorry." Anwen swipes a thumb over my cheek, and something wet smears. A tear. "Did I say something wrong? I want the big party. I love the big party."
I grab his wrist to keep him there, against my skin, and shake my head. "You didn't say anything wrong at all. That sounds wonderful."
"Okay." He frowns, clearly trying to understand why I'm crying.
That ache in my chest cracks in two like an egg, and from it, something warm and fragile hatches. I have always loved people who work for the things they have. I may have inherited my title, but any skill I have, at leadership or otherwise, I've trained to develop. It's a point of pride. And Anwen is always working harder than anyone I've met before. He works to understand me. To make me happy. To be a man he was never raised to be.
"I love you," I murmur wonderingly.
Anwen kisses me, the faint heat of the stew lingering on his lips. "I was waiting for you to catch up."