Three mornings pass. Harry grows tired of abandoning the bed before the sun rises. Brielle is right beside him, yet, he's beginning to feel like they're still lifetimes apart. He thought the gap between them had disappeared when they were married and he'd taken her back from Aylwin, but lately she's a wound he's afraid to touch. She's not cold or untoward in any manner, which leads him to believe it might just be something odd stuck in his brain.

Brielle makes a small noise close to a groan and shoves her head farther into her pillow. A few rogue rays of sunlight peek through the curtains and rest in a fractured pattern on her face. She's a painting he can't ever capture in the right light, no matter how much is in the room. An angel trapped in a world she doesn't belong in.

One of the servants opens the door, a tray of food balanced on her thin wrist. Harry waves her away. He's not interested in anything beside Brielle today. She doesn't close the door with any semblance of quiet and he suppresses a groan. He never thought he would have to spend so much time away from his wife.

"Harry?" Brielle rolls over to face him, her eyes still half-opened, clinging to a world far away from anyone's reach.

The smile that turns the edges of his lips up is every bit as strange as the moment he realized she was the only woman he'd ever want for the rest of his life. "Yes?"

Her eyes fall shut once more, long eyelashes kissing the tips of her cheeks. "Why are you still in bed?" Every word is mumbled, a muttering of wakefulness slipping from her grasp the way sand refuses to be captured in its entirety.

One of the guards in the hall is talking. Harry never told them he wanted to be left alone. He's hoping the servants quick departure gave them a hint. With any luck, he'll have an opportunity to deal with his parents later.

Another shuffle of the blankets reminds him of his wife's presence. The growing child in Brielle's stomach has stretched the skin enough to make it impossible not to touch the clothed surface with such little space between them. Harry extends his right hand until it rests atop the small bump. He closes his eyes and imagines the tiny body beneath the surface, how small the sound of its heartbeat must be compared to his own. Unconstrained from thought, his fingers draw small patterns over Brielle's nightgown. "I want to spend time with you and the little one."

Brielle's eyes open once more, a smile he can't decipher taunts the sleep still on her lips. "What about your parents? Alaria?"

He shrugs. "They'll manage without me for a day." Negotiations and strategy are still swarmed with arguments, his head will thank him for avoiding council meetings and war meetings today.

"Mhmm, and my ladies?" The hand tucked under her pillow finds its way to his hair, lazily combing through the thick and unruly strands.

"They haven't come by, yet. Do you think they'll mind?" He hasn't seen them since they returned to the castle. They have to be somewhere on the grounds if Brielle is in his chambers, so they're sure to walk up to the guards at any moment. He doesn't think they'll mind, but, then again, he hasn't spent enough time with them or around them to know.

"No, they'll just want an explanation. I think I've been boring them lately, so it will give them something to talk about."

The room feels to quiet. Harry didn't plan the rest of the day when he decided to ignore his duties, and he's not sure if she wants him to ask more about her ladies or allow her to return to sleep.

Brielle's fingers are still in his hair. "Are we going to stay in bed all day?"

Harry sighs. The offer is tempting, but he knows the longer they're in their chambers, the more people will come to pry them away from each other. "I'd like to, but I fear we'll be interrupted."

Her fingers stop combing through his hair and she laughs. "You didn't plan this far, did you?"

Blood rises to his cheeks faster than he anticipates. "Not really, no. There is somewhere I would like to show you, though."

A slight movement stirs his hand over her abdomen. Harry stills and holds his breath. Brielle smiles and moves her hand from his head to cover his own. "It's strange isn't it? To know another human is sitting right there and moving and breathing like us."

He doesn't answer, too intent on staring at the fabric beneath his hand. There's a child in there—his child—and it has no idea who it is that's touching the skin, thinking about gender and what it means in the world.

Brielle squeezes his hand. "I wish I could tell the gender. Some of the midwives say that sometimes ladies know around this time. I don't even have the slightest idea."

"Better we don't. I like not knowing. Makes me feel more like everyone else. Does it...does it feel..." He can't imagine what it's like to have something living inside of him and growing until it decides it's time to join the other humans milling about. Yet, it happens all the time and no one questions anything about it other than how that little human will turn out.

"Very unusual. Now that it happens more often, it almost feels like I'm being tickled."

He's sure there are a few more choice words hidden behind her lips that she's chosen not to share, but all he's concerned about is leaving the room and placing his hands over her stomach whenever he has the chance to from now on. There's a timid knock on the door. Thinking it's one or both of his parent's, Harry lifts a finger to his lips and hopes Brielle won't laugh. She's so easy to amuse when he's risking some sort of trouble.

One of the guards tries to warn whoever it is that he's already turned away another servant. Brielle is already giggling, her hands too spread apart to muffle much of the sound.

Harry does his best not to follow in her laughter as he places his left hand over hers. "Shhh! You'll give us away!" The comment only entices her further and he's sure whoever is outside the door can hear her by now. Harry takes a deep breath and speaks as loud as he dares without damaging Brielle's hearing. "As long as it's neither of my parents, let whoever it is through."

Some few minutes of mumbling pass before the door swings open and all three of Brielle's ladies enter the room. The guards seal them in without waiting for further instructions. Harry surpasses a groan, rests his back against the wall and runs his hands down his face, all the while ignoring the level of the blanket. What's left covering him bunches around his hips in a rather obvious way. One of the ladies gasps and he doesn't have it in him to hide his smile.

Brielle is coated in blush beside him, stumbling for words.

Harry waves his hand in no particular direction. "Do what you must, I'll wait here and spare your modesty." He needs to use the privy, but that can wait for her friends to help with her morning routine.

She's out of bed and whisked into the next room in a matter of minutes, leaving him to his own devices. By the time he's dressed, she's laughing and walking through the door in one of her old green dresses and no jewelry, save for the ring on her left hand. "No, I'm sure it's nothing of the sort! What in God's name made you think of that?"

Whoever answers the question fades into silence. He's forgotten how nice she looks without all the finery that comes with his name. Without her hair done up around her crown, it falls in loose curls that dip just below her shoulders, and the soft edges of her cheekbones look fuller without the all the powders and blushes his mother has her wear to make her look more like her ideal version of a daughter-in-law.

Brielle says something to her ladies and they disappear through the doors. She watches him for a moment before twisting her ring in small half-circles. "Are we going to act like strangers all day, or are you going to show me that somewhere you were talking about?"

A second later he has her hand in his, leading her toward her chamber to avoid anyone else coming to knock on his. The guards don't move, sparing only a glance in their direction as they head down the opposite corridor. Harry does his best to walk at a pace that won't cause her discomfort.

"What happens if someone not under your control sees us?"

Harry grins and pulls her toward a door leading to the courtyard. "We tell them we're on an errand." It's true enough, his mother sends someone out just about every hour for one thing or another, what difference is it if her children are sent instead?

A few guards on rotation eye them as they cross the green toward the stables, Nathaniel is bold enough to wink, earning a laugh from Brielle. "I see you've made a few friends in my absence."

If Caldwell didn't insist on bringing him down to the alehouse with the off-duty guards, he doesn't think he'd know much of anyone's names at this point. He's surprised he remembers most of them after drinking himself into a stupor on a few occasions. The effort it takes to withhold his left hand from clasping his neck wells up in an uncomfortable and familiar sensation flowing from his fingers to his shoulder. "Sort of. A lot of it involves drinking when I should be sleeping."

The horse master doesn't look up as they enter, continuing to groom the black mare that arrived a week prior. Harry lightens his grip on Brielle's hand to lean over and grab a few apples. "You don't expect me to ride with you, do you?"

He shakes his head and takes a bite of one of the apples. "God no! I had Caldwell bring a coach around the back of the stable early this morning. The horses have been grazing, so I need to reward and entice them if I want them to behave."

Brielle rolls her eyes. "I don't think apples entice them any further. They have been trained to behave, you know. Unlike yourself."

Harry pokes her with his elbow. "I married such a charmer." She's been much more receptive in her humor lately, making more jokes in a less timid and unsure tone. He likes that she's stepping out of what she's used to, perhaps she isn't as miserable as she appeared to be when she showed up in his chambers three nights prior. Perhaps she's grown used to the life she never thought she would have—the life she didn't really want.

She smiles but doesn't say much as he helps her into the carriage and passes an apple to each horse. The coachman already knows the destination, he made sure of that in advance. Harry slips a crown in the coachman's hand and enters the carriage on the opposite side of Brielle. He doesn't know why he's chosen to sit facing her, but it doesn't help the strangeness still lingering between them.

He only lasts for a few minutes as she looks out at the passing greenery and returns to twisting her wedding ring. "Are we going to act like strangers forever?"

"No! No, I...this is still so strange. I mean, being able to love you without worrying about who sees and the repercussions." His voice doesn't sound as convinced as the words were in his head. Everything about her is what he wants, yet, he can't seem to see her in the exact same light he saw her in when they were hiding behind every corner of the castle.

Her expression softens and she takes his hand. "I know."

Even so, they sit in silence, hands still entwined until the forest becomes a sloping mass of sand and rocky hillsides. Birdsong is replaced by the loud, consistent whisper of the sea as it reaches toward the shore. The carriage stops and Brielle steps out before he can caution her to be careful of the shells hidden in the sand.

Harry follows after her, feet tripping in the sinking sand. "Elle!"

She ignores him and travels down the hillside until her feet are coated in the dark blue waters. Her eyes are closed when he reaches her, searching for something in the water that can't be seen. Harry has painted a few images of this very spot, hiding it from everyone but her and wishing she could visit without all the inconveniences of the crown. Now that she's here, he feels like he's been painting the scene all wrong the entire time.

"Have you been hiding this forever?" She calls as she wades further into the water, her dress soaked from ankles to waist.

Harry's feet clamber over awkward dips in the sand. "I haven't been around forever!" The water is freezing to the touch, yet, Brielle doesn't seemed bothered in the slightest. "Aren't you cold?" He calls to her.

"Not at all!" She's almost to her shoulders now, falling in line with the rhythm of the waves.

The further he gets, the warmer the water becomes. Soon, it feels like he's floating in a pool of sunlight with Brielle by his side. She grabs his hand the moment he's close enough for her fingers to touch his skin. "Just imagine what it would be like to feel like this all the time."

Harry doesn't answer, he's too focused on the skyline fading to a pale gray. He's always tried to find words for the feeling she brings whenever he's near, but it seems like this space has said it all for him. "I don't have to."

He loses track of time and they make it home just before supper is being served. Brielle's ladies whisk her into the other room and shut the door, despite knowing she's his wife. Not wanting to finish dressing before her, Harry steps toward the window. There are more lanterns than usual amount the guards use for their night rotation, and a group of servants are rushing toward the entrance with their skirts in their hands. Either his parents are holding a late council meeting, or they've invited important people to dine with them.

A few horses are grazing by the stables, none he doesn't recognize. Harry turns his back and dismisses the dread easing its way through his body. If he lets his mind run, he'll drive himself mad with horrific scenarios.

Laughter slips free from Brielle's door, dulled by the walls. Everything in his wardrobe looks like a good choice for an unknown evening. Harry stares at the fabrics, his fist at his chin. One of his tutors warned him of the dangers of dressing too elegant or too drab while in the company of unknown guests. With the restlessness of the other Kingdoms still placed on his doorstep, he opts for a black doublet inlaid with a golden trim and a loose pattern.

Brielle walks through their adjoining door as he's adjusting his sleeves. She's wearing a midday-cloud colored gown with lace sleeves he hasn't seen before. He didn't know what he was expecting. The fabric accentuates her stomach and reminds him of the drawing by his bedside and convinces him that she must be able to see his dreams somehow.

She takes his arm and the compliment tucked behind his lips remains in his smile as they're escorted to the great hall. An emptiness fills his lungs. The great hall is only used when nobles are present. "Brielle I—"

He's interrupted by the creak released as the door opens. Lining the length of the table are the Royal families from the other eleven Kingdoms. Anne and Richard are at the head, two empty chairs bedside them. Next to the empty chairs are Kinsley and Nyx.

Either he's holding Brielle's hand so hard her fingers are victims, or she's holding his with a grip of iron. Between the hammer in his ribcage and the nails in his jaw, he can't tell.

Anne smiles. "So nice of you to finally join us."

Kinsley's smile burns like acid. Brielle drops his hand and takes a seat next to Nyx. A small mercy. She must remember what he told her. Sitting next to his ex-fiancé isn't what he would call ideal, but at least she's the nicer of the two.

He's hardly sat down when Richard begins his usual display of unpleasant manners, shoving a turkey leg into his mouth and posing a question while still chewing. "What was so important at the beach?"

Brielle answers for him. "A vantage point of our largest weakness should war befall us all."

Richard chokes and it takes everything within Harry not to laugh. She brings her cup to her lips and takes a long sip.

They never thought she would learn so well, perhaps he should clap. Kinsley beats him to it, her hands clapping out a slow rhythm. "I'm impressed, the little wench has learned to pretend she's one of us. If you're so confident, where is your tiara?"

Harry's fingers grasp the table, the knuckles turning white. Anne set them up for an indoor war that would lead to a bigger one outdoors.

Brielle smiles and notches her head toward the door. "In my chambers. I don't need a crown to feel confident. You can have it if you'd like. It won't change anything." Dania rushes over to fill her cup, not waiting for a request. Brielle is too angry to thank her.

Everyone shifts in their seats, fingers dance across the table and feet tap against the carpet. Anne looks horrified next to Richard, who's smiling with a ring of grizzle around his mouth.

Next to Brielle, Nyx laughs so abruptly half the room starts, almost falling from their seats. "Oh, I like her!" Richard is the only one to laugh with her.

Harry's waiting for someone to comment on her pregnancy. She might be calm now, but he's not sure she can manage if Kinsley decides to broach the subject. Affronting an innocent child might just set her off on a rage no one in the room will be capable to stop. He clears his throat as obnoxiously as he's capable of. "Would anyone care to tell me why we're all here as opposed to our own respective Kingdoms?"

King Larin scoffs. "Isn't it obvious? We're here to discuss politics and whether or not war is to be waged. Of course, you would have known that sooner if you'd cared to attend the Council meeting this morning."

"You know as well as I do that the Council meetings were getting us nowhere."

Kinsley rolls her eyes and places her hand atop his. He retracts so fast he knocks over his wine. The dark liquid pools on his trousers and drips to the floor. "You're losing your touch, darling."

"Touch me again and you'll lose yours." The words come out as more of a growl than speech. She doesn't flinch, but her eyes widen enough for him to notice. "Regardless of my attendance, I'm sure we're all aware there will be no peaceful end to this. So, what is this really for? To poke fun at one another, or is there another plot to dethrone someone in this room?" His tongue is moments away from offering his parents for the latter option.

Servants bring in another dish that smells like duck. No one reaches for more, not even Richard, who's sucked down two whole turkeys in the span of a few minutes. Wine soaks further into his pants, drawing a twitch from his eye as he pushes his chair out from the table. "Well, if that's the case, count me and my wife out. My father is King, so he holds sole authority no matter what I say."

Brielle drains another cup full and raises her glass round the table. "To arrogance at its finest."

An uproar festers behind them. The door slams and Brielle sighs. "I hate them all."

Harry takes her hand and kisses the top. "I know. I do, too."