Maybe he should pay attention to what his advisers were saying during the meeting, but Baudwin's mind was busy replaying the events of the previous night and it was far more interesting. It was probably a good thing that he was sitting down, because the memories had some rather obvious effects on his body that were better off hidden.

Rhiannon may not love him yet, but they had made great progress last night. Not only the love-making, but he felt as if she had opened up to him, lowering her defences. There was still time for him to conquer his wife. In the most loving, respectful way possible, of course. He would lay siege to her heart, and he would be damned if he would accept anything other than victory.

"King Baudwin?"

Lifting his head, he met the less-than-amused gaze of Donauld. The old bird-like adviser must have asked him a question. Orc's ass! Maybe he ought to pay attention. Even if the image of Rhiannon straddling his hips was much more pleasant.

"Could you repeat that?" I wasn't listening. He deliberately left out the last bit, raising his eyebrows in what he hoped was a mien of polite interest.

Donauld cleared his throat and puffed his chest up like a proud rooster. "Your Majesty," he drawled, almost as if he thought a lower speed would make Baudwin pay more attention. "I said that our preparations are proceeding well. Our stocks are in an excellent position and we are continuing to fill them. Should there be a war, we are well prepared."

"Which we need to be," Aurelian interjected with a grim look on his face. "I don't think it's as much of an 'if' as a 'when'."

"And before then, we need to be ready for potential trouble from the western lords." Baudwin thoughtfully scratched his bearded chin, before looking over at Golen. "I realise we only returned the other night, but have you heard anything? Messages travel quicker by fowl than men on horses."

"We've received notes of discontent from a few of the lords, and one of our informants in the area says there is talk of rebellion again."

"I expected as much." He hadn't exactly done much to stave it off, if he was honest with himself. Maybe some part of him wanted an excuse to put Lord Delen in his place. Even now, he struggled to think of the man without his fingers itching to throttle him.

Golen made a face. "You could have tried," he chided. "From what I hear you were closer to antagonising the western lords than discussing a compromise."

Baudwin levelled a stern look at the adviser, and the older man shrank away. "There were no compromises to be made. Their demands were preposterous. I cannot be seen to bargain with men like that. Titled lords or not."

"Naturally, Your Majesty," Golen murmured. "Whatever you believe is right."

"Sir Ioan," Baudwin looked at his guard captain on the other side of the table. "I know I am putting a lot on you, with the preparations for Son of Deva already underway, and new recruits coming in, but please... We need to also prepare for the possibility that the western lords will mount an attack."

The knight nodded. "You believe they may be bold enough to attempt a dethroning?"

"Definitely."

"I will oversee our defences."

"Thank you." Looking out over the gathered men and his sister, their faces all mirrored his own. Grim determination in the face of what was to come.

"We will hopefully have plenty of time to deal with the western lords," Aurelian said, tapping his fingers against the smooth surface of the table. "I doubt Son of Deva will make a move yet. No one knows who he is, only his moniker. I can't imagine he is ready to attack or reveal himself yet. High King Felix's spies are working on finding out more. So far there have been no reports of any armies gathering."

"But no one knows what hides in the Dreadlands," Braithe pointed out.

"True." Aurelian nodded. "The message didn't say, but I suspect the delegation being sent to the mountain pass between the Kingdom of Ler and the Dreadlands will try to determine whether there is cause to worry."

"They will travel north?" Braithe made a face. "I wouldn't want to be the one to do that."

"And you never will be." Aurelian leaned over and kissed her cheek, then guiltily glanced over at the rest of the gathered men, as if he'd forgotten their presence.

"Right," Baudwin said, hoping to get the discussion back on track. "All we can do is wait for more information from the High King and his men at this point. Any other points for discussion?"

When no one spoke up, he nodded to the group, then grabbed his cane and left the room. The grim topics made him want to see his wife. She'd still been asleep in bed when he got up that morning, making it very difficult to leave. Staying in bed next to her warm body had seemed much more appealing, but with everything going on, he couldn't very well ignore his duties to the kingdom.

Walking through the winding halls of the old castle, he cursed the building for having the private quarters so far removed from everything else. His body had already been in pain from the travels to the west, any further exertion exacerbating it, and it usually took a few days before the worst pain subsided again.

By the time he reached the sitting room he shared with Rhiannon, his leg was aching, spreading spears of pain up along his back and into his hips. What kind of king was he who couldn't even walk through his own castle without his body seizing up in agony? The Cripple King. Supposedly it was what his dissenters called him.

The Cripple King and the Swamp Witch. The thought made him smile. It sounded like one of the tales of adventure and romance that Aurelian enjoyed reading. While an avid reader, Baudwin generally favoured different types of books. He would read one with that title, though. Hopefully, it would have a happy ending for the two burdened souls.

He was disappointed to discover that Rhiannon was not in her chamber, only her lady's maid, who was busy putting things away in the closet. She jumped when he opened the door, but relaxed when she saw him.

"Your Majesty." She bobbed a curtsy, her blonde hair falling over her face.

"Alya, is it?" He wracked his brain, but couldn't remember if that was it.

"Ailla, Your Majesty."

"Right. Do you know where the Queen is?"

"I believe she said she would go for a walk in the gardens, Your Majesty. She shouldn't be too long."

"Thank you." Debating whether his aching body could handle walking down to the gardens, he decided against it and settled down in one of the comfortable chairs in the sitting room. Picking up the book Rhiannon had been reading last night, he grinned when he discovered that it was a romance. He'd not taken his wife for a romance reader.

When Rhiannon returned, he'd read a good third of the book, finding it more interesting than he'd expected. Maybe Aurelian was onto something after all. His wife looked confused to see him, and he supposed he shouldn't be surprised, as he rarely spent time in the private quarters during the day.

He stood up—maybe not with the utmost grace—as she approached him, and as soon as she was close enough, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. If she stiffened for a moment, it melted away almost instantly as he captured her mouth in a kiss.

He'd been craving her all day, and finally tasting her lips was the only kindling his body needed to act as if it was a starved beast. It seemed even having had her last night had done nothing to sate his hunger for this woman. Burying his fingers in her amazing hair, he kissed her deeply, urgently, pleased to find that she returned his kisses with equal fervour. His need for her knew no bounds, and he absently wondered what her stance on daytime trysts was.

Moving his hands down to cup her bottom, he pulled her close, and smiled when she moaned as she could undoubtedly feel the hard length pushing against her. Placing soft kisses along her jaw, he reached her ear and nipped gently at the lobe.

"Shall we go into your chambers?" he murmured against her soft skin.

"Yes." Her voice was breathless, and he loved that he was the one to cause it. Whether she loved him or not, his wife definitely wanted him. He could work with that.

A frustrating thought struck him. "Oh, your lady's maid is in there. Let's go to mine."

She nodded, but as he bent down to grab his cane, a small crease appeared between her winged brows. "Ailla is in there?"

"Yes." Leaning on his cane, but trying not to let on how much pain he was really in, he shrugged. "I think she was cleaning your closets or something."

"One moment, please."

She turned on her heel and marched into her room. They were too far away for him to hear what they said, but from their tense voices it sounded like the two women were arguing. A moment later the lady's maid stormed out of the bedchamber and after a hasty bob in his direction she disappeared. Rhiannon came back soon after, and he kissed the top of her head as she embraced him.

"Is everything all right?"

There was a small nod, but she didn't elaborate.

"Do you need a new lady's maid?" It was meant as a joke, but an unhappy scoff surprised him. "You can have a new one if you want."

"No, thank you. Ailla is fine. We just had a minor disagreement." Rhiannon looked up at him, and when she traced his lips with her finger, he forgot any questions he might have had.

Before he could lose his head entirely, she pulled back and his arms felt oddly empty.

"I forgot to tell you yesterday," she said, holding up a small vial filled with a purple liquid. "While you were away, I finally found all the ingredients for the elixir to help with your pain."

He stared at the item in her hand. It looked so small and insignificant, yet it might hold the key to his salvation. The ointment she applied already helped his pain a great deal, and she had once said this might work even better.

"A word of warning, though," she continued as she handed him the flask. "You cannot take it too often, nor too much. If you use it too often during a long enough time, you will get the yellow sickness and possibly perish."

Well, that was less than stellar news. He turned the vial over in his hand, watching the purple liquid swirl inside. "So, what would you suggest?"

"We will use it sparingly, when your pain is worse than normal, or there is a special occasion."

He made a face. "Like having to fight your stepfather in a battle, which seems rather likely at this point. I'm sorry I couldn't talk him down."

She frowned, a line appearing between her brows. "My stepfather is a terrible man, but he is no fool. It would make no sense for him to actually rebel. It's a handy threat, but I imagine that your armies are greater and you could withstand him fairly easily. He doesn't appreciate a fair fight, and will definitely balk at one where he stands a significant chance of losing."

"I hope you're right. He definitely wasn't happy when I left."

A small smile played on her lips, and he wanted to claim that smile with a kiss.

"When not using the elixir, I will keep putting the ointment on every fortnight or so. More often if necessary." She nodded towards the item in his hand. "Try it now. I know long days of travel and activity worsens your condition, and I can tell from your posture that you're in considerable pain."

"And here I thought I was hiding it rather well," he muttered, which brought her smile back.

"What kind of wife would I be, if I couldn't tell when my husband is in pain?"

He still wasn't used to her teasing him, but he loved it. Quickly quaffing the potion, the taste bitter on his tongue, he put the vial down on a table before pulling her close and finally capturing her mouth.

"I don't know," he mumbled against her lips. "But you're the best wife."

~~~~~~