Svana sighed. "I cannot believe my father knew. I don't believe it."

"I told you when you were courting Willem," I shrugged. "It is impossible to carry out an affair without someone finding out. Two people cannot keep a secret unless one of them is dead."

"What did my mother say about it?"

"...I didn't tell Eliza about the conversation."

"But you just–!"

"I didn't know how. I didn't think it benefitted her to share that burden. Instead, I omitted some of the... maybe more important details of the meeting."

"Good Lord. All of this could have been much simpler if you'd take time to speak to each other."

"I told her that I had met with the King about equipment, and I told her that the conversation had bought us a week together. I didn't correct her when she assumed the extension was granted due to that. And then I insisted, because I was no longer worried of getting caught, that we spend as much time as humanly possible in each other's company. I could feel the slow creep of Death pressing on the back of my mind, but I thought it was meant for me. That I was the one soon to perish from this world. I was, after all, approaching battle and sleeping with my King's wife, both dangerous things without his propensity of violence."

"Yes, one of your finer displays of critical thinking, I think," she groaned.

"Where is your mind right now?" Eliza purred, touching my jaw from across the tub. The water sploshed between us as she came closer, in between my legs to kiss my chin. She bit her lip. "It should be here with me."

I blinked slowly; considering, slipping deeper into the basin to bring her over me. "My mind is always on you, Your Majesty."

She rolled her eyes, but her hand found me beneath the soap and steam. She stroked me, loving and intent. "When you come back," she sang. "Let's go somewhere. Just a trip."

"Where would you like to go?" I asked. I shut my eyes, letting out a small moan as she worked.

"Somewhere nice. Somewhere warm. I'm tired of this snow."

"Rothingham is very nice," I said. "I dreamed of dancing with you in the streets. But," I stuttered, pleasure starting to build. I took her hand with mine, and pulled her closer, leading her onto me. "But it should be difficult to be in Chalke, I suspect. What of North Áire? Would you take me to see your family?"

She grinned.

Eliza slid along me. She started to grind against my lap. Her hand rested over my heart as water fell over each perfect peak and valley of her breasts.

"You want to meet my family?" she teased. "Oh, what will they think of you?"

I laughed. "We'll take Svana to see them," I said. "Leave me out of the equation. I'll be there only as your bodyguard."

"Mhmm," she noted. "My sister will see right through us."

"Will she?"

"Oh yes," Eliza teased. "She's very observant, and you are very handsome. Too handsome to be a Blade."

"But I am a Blade," I cracked.

She craned, nipping at my cheek and my neck and kissing me.

"Eliza," I begged.

"I don't care if she knows," she said.

"What is her name?" I asked.

"Why? Will you fall for her?" she whined. "She is the pretty one."

"Stop it," I hissed, playfully. My hands found her hips, halting her ride. "You are the only woman I will ever fall for," I said. "And you know it."

She giggled, the confession enough to expose her accusation as just banter. "Oh, Eli," she pouted. "I know... Her name is Kitty. Katherine, really. But we tease her."

"I see," I said. "Any brothers I should worry of?"

"No. No brothers," she mused. "But my mother is very sharp."

"Where's your father?" I asked.

"Gone." She said nothing else of him.

Eliza's legs squeezed closer to mine. She let out a quiet moan and moved slower over me. "Elías," she whimpered. She started to breathe harder and I just watched her, trying to memorize every line of her face and bath-dipped hair.

"I love you," I told her.

We spent the week doing trivial things, like playing hide and seek within the halls. Her favorite place to hide was the tower, and she kept going there, thinking that eventually I would suspect she'd moved. She never did; she was quite horrible at the game. We painted, even, in the Library once, and I wrote her poetry at night while we laid in her bed or I'd read from her book of odes.

When our time had expired, and I could no longer escape the reality of the changing empire, I held her in my arms for as long as I could before I had to address the men. I kissed her forehead, her lips, her hands, everything I could, at least a thousand times, and I promised her I would return. I promised her I would never leave her; I would never die by the hands of Chalke. I would find a way to always come home, even though I did not believe it this time.

When I left, she was in great... beautiful spirits. She wrote me, several times, and I, her. We actually sent the letters. I told her of the front. I left out the gruesome details, but I did share funny anecdotes from Ser Derek and I's misadventures in our off times. I told her of the nights I couldn't sleep. Of the dreams I had that bothered me. Of the fears I had when things were not going our way.

On one occasion, I signed a letter as potentially my last; we had become boxed in.

Of course, reinforcements came, and we made it out, so instead of shredding the letter, I sent it with another, so that she knew in my time of impending doom and dread, she was the only thing I could think of. And... I sent her pressed flowers from everywhere we trekked. Flowers for her. Flowers for you. Roses. Daffodils. The occasional snapdragon.

I even sent back a couple books I'd found. A children's book about the nations faires and culture; one on lore.

Somewhere in the haze of the War... I noticed Eliza's letters declined. I thought maybe there was an issue with the service, that letters just weren't being delivered, but Ser Derek and some of the other Knights got their mail just fine.

And then it came.

Elías,

It's come to my attention you have been withholding information from me. His Majesty tells me you are to leave the moment you return.

E.

I didn't know how much she knew. I wanted to scribe a response immediately, but the date was over a week before I had gotten it, and we were in the meat of the worst. I waited. I waited until we had finished the fight, though she never left my mind, and even while clashing metal upon metal, and the yelling, and the fire, and the blood and gore, I thought of how I might handle my reply.

We were lucky. That was the last of it. We had won the battle; taken the ground we set out to take, and it was the first promise of home we'd seen in months. I was more set on settling things in person than trying to find the words, so a quick;

I'll explain when I am home.

was sent and nothing more. Ser Derek and I parted with our group from the ones that would hold the point, and we set off towards home.

On the way, I received another letter.

Elías,

Love of my life, despite the truths I have discovered of your character and the lack of your answers to it. I had not pegged you as a liar, and perhaps you do not realize that omission is still a falsity but I refuse to bid you another goodbye. I cannot wait for your uncertain return just to be left again.

I'm very injured. You expect me to stay here in His Majesty's company while you live to your fullest somewhere else, but you do not realize that if I ever see you again, and with someone who isn't me, I could not bear it. Miles away from this prison, there are no Swords and Horses to distract you from settling down, from the family you so clearly want.

The King promises to quit 'fucking my friends,' a phrase he claims to have taken off of you. He wishes to work on our marriage and I cannot think of a fate worse than to be stuck for all eternity with a man who seeks to murder children and ship off my only friend. Even for Svana.

You must know you've broken me.

But I will remain, forever...

Your Eliza.

"Somewhere in the forefront of my mind I did think that I would discover her, angry. Hurt by some shard of glass, maybe, but still breathing, just very vexed. That I would arrive so disorderly, she would scold me for my lack of decorum, or I don't know... at worst ban me from seeing her again out of irritation. I would do my very best to explain to her that I was not ignoring her correspondence. That the only family I wished to have, I had already. I thought she might even ship me off to another fort, curse me to work forever alongside Ser Erik. I worried, in the height of my nerves, she'd go as far as to forget about me. And... I was most scared of that."

"You had every right to be scared," Svana said. "She was being manipulative. What kind of letter was that?"

"A goodbye," I said.

"A good—? Oh." The word tapered off with a sigh, and Svana shook her head. "Eli."

Neither of us said anything for a longer moment.

"Tell me the rest of it," she said. "I'm ready."

"...When I did make it to the castle it was a few days from the time I had received her letter. I can only assume she did not realize we had won our fight. The King seemed to have told her everything else, but not that we were on the way back."

"I'm sorry," she buzzed.

"Not as sorry as I am," I gave her. "I did not arrive in time to stop her. Or even see her. She was long expired from this world by the... His Majesty had already had her moved to the Crypt. I was able to see that way, but."
"I'm sorry," Svana whispered again. "I'm so sorry."

"His Majesty was waiting for us. For me, to be fair. He was... pale and exhausted. I remember he was he was pacing the floor. Cory, or another maid, or Cory and then the other, some combination of the two I was unable to comprehend or retain, asked me if they could offer me some water."

"W-What happened? Who told you she—?" she asked.

"Your father did." I swallowed hard.

"My father?"

"He wouldn't let anyone else. He led me to his office, he closed the door, and before I could ask what was going on– I thought he was going to kill me– he told me I was the closest thing he had to a friend, certainly the 'only person who could understand his pain,' and that because of that, he didn't want anyone else to tell me. When I asked 'tell me what?' he said Eliza was dead."

"That is so cold!"

"He didn't mean to be," I shrugged. "I don't think." I furrowed my brow, reliving the memory. The way His Majesty had gone about it, he didn't seem cold to me. He seemed... injured. "Nikolai had to be blunt about things that bothered him. He did poorly with emotion. If he did not cling to fact, he would lose control. He said Eliza had hung herself the day before. In the Library. And he was sorry."

"Why?" she croaked. "Why did she do it? Did he give you a reason? Did she?! Did my father say anything else? Did he even care? Surely he–?!"

"Your father said many things. Things I promised I would not repeat. Even to you."

"Well that is horse sh–"

"—But most importantly... He said he did not want me to leave. He said he needed me, and he asked me to win the war for him. For her."

"The War. Of course. Did he even cry?" Her eyes found her hands in her lap.

"He and I both wept for days. Weeks, maybe longer. The King had several doctors try to diagnose Eliza after the fact. An impossible feat, but he needed a reason. Logic for an illogical act, but that's how he was. He was a man of explanations not philosophy."

"I didn't know he did that," Svana confessed. "You think he cared then?"

"He did. In his way. Over the years, even, there have been times I've caught him crying since. There was a particular book of hers that upset him when it would be left out. ...In my absence, in the coming years, I heard he would be in the midst of a battle plan, then he would have to leave the room. Sometimes for the remainder of the evening. It wasn't until I would return that he spoke to anyone outside of you or his work, minus the string of meaningless nights with women he never bothered to learn the names of. ...His Majesty was living, feeding, breathing off of the same fury that I had, seeded within my soul. Once... he told me that he believed Eliza had ended her life because she did not think he could win. That the two of them would be ravished or beaten, or somehow hurt or worse. He thought she did not wish to see that come to light. That he had failed her. The same passion that had kept me alive for the months it took to force Chalke back into their realm, ran through his veins before me. And for the first time, I felt real respect for him. Or maybe it was guilt, because I knew the honesty behind her death... That it was my fault. So I did what he asked. I moved into Ser Dalton's room in the castle to quell his paranoia, and I won the War... For him. For her. For your mother's name."

Svana shifted. She raked her hand through her long hair, and she muttered something I didn't hear. Finally, she breathed. "It wasn't your fault. She was sick. In another time, with some realization of her depression, some help; she would've waited for you," she said. "I wish she'd waited for you."

"I wish that, too." I touched her hand. "But we are not in control of these things. Her passing was the worst thing that's ever happened to me... To Oreia, to this world. I feel her absence in every nook, every crack of this castle. And every moment of every day. If you think these halls are haunted, it's because they are. She's everywhere within them."

"You said..." She hesitated. "You said this was a Happily Ever After, Eli." Her face shook, threatening to cry again. "You said it was happy. You lied. Like my father, I don't like to be lied to."

"I haven't lied to you," I knelt in front of her. "Not ever."

She scowled.

"Svana... I loved your mother. I do love her, still. I would have followed her into the grave if not for you. But you— Eliza's departure may be the worst thing this world has ever seen, but your arrival is the best. No matter the intentions, or the results, or the actions of what she did– that fact will never change. You are the Happily Ever After. And you are Queen now, and what a Queen you are. You make me very proud, every day, and your Willem, and Will and Sam, too. Enough so, that it makes missing your mother a bearable thing."

Tears, two, one after the other fell from either eye, and she near-growled some obscene comment about how stupid I was.

Just like my Eliza.

"You are all the beautiful parts of your mother," I persisted, quieter. "And all the brave and brutal parts of your father. God crafted you this way, to bring peace to a war-scarred empire. Joy, to a joyless man; a rusting Blade. Balance to an unbalanced voice of Justice. You are, I cannot say it loud enough, the Happily Ever After."

"That is..." She sniffled. "That is the lamest thing you have ever said to me." She wiped her face. "Seriously. So stupid. And. I'm not sure that constitutes a happy ending. I feel rather robbed."

"I don't," I said. "Love comes in all forms, and I love you."

She chuckled, harder. "You're legally obligated to say that because I'm your monarch," she whined. "You're literally oath-bound."

"No," I laughed. I pointed to the bassinet, lowering my voice to a soft melody. "Look at her," I said. "Look at your child. You love her with every ounce of yourself and she doesn't even have a name yet."

"Yes," she nodded. "I really do."

"And if somehow you discovered she had ever done something wrong–"

She cut me off, "She never could!"

"Exactly," I hemmed. "She could never do wrong. No matter how she felt about it. Right? This child is an extension of you, Svana, as you are your mother."

She met my eyes.

"That is unconditional love, my dear, and it is what I feel for you, as your would-be father. It's what I feel for your mother, as her would-be husband. Much in the way that you love Willem for all his faults and qualities, I love you and Eliza the same."

"You're not mad at her? After what she did?"

"Every day," I sang, quickly adding; "Every day I miss her. Every day I love her. I am mad, too, yes. I am maimed. Wounded. Seething. But I am still hers. You said once, I had never tempted another woman to be Mrs. Ser Gregory Elías. And that much is true, but I could have a long time ago. I've had the opportunities. Those Games were not the only ones I competed in. Those favors; more came every year. His Majesty even went as far as to offer me retirement after the War was won. A manor, and a wife– a Countess, no less. There were others who would extend invitations to me, both of sinister means and of romantic endeavors, but I never reciprocated their affections. I never tried. I chose to stay here, with you, in this castle with her memories, because I loved you both. I made a promise I would protect you, yes, but you have proven time and time again you do not need any man to shield you from the world. So now I stay out of awe. Like your mother, you are a force, and while she was wrong because I did meet another like her, she set the tone for your reign. You are somehow more powerful than she ever was, and I suspect this child," I smiled. "Will be far more strong-willed than you, too."

"I know," she pouted. "I think that, too. That is why I hoped for a boy."

"Heh. No," I paused. "Difficult? Yes. Daughters take after their mothers."

"Alright!"

"But the world needs its Eisson mares."

"Well." She twisted her hands. "I don't know about mare. She's an Ólason, you know? And they don't have a crest. So there's no fancy animal for them."

"Be it by name or blood, she is an Eisson mare, and a Rós. And an Ólason, who maybe don't have a crest but do have a reputation. Pray the Lord is with us."

Svana cracked a wide grin. She snickered, then settled into an easier mood, glancing at her sleeping child. She looked back at me. "I've thought of a name."

"Have you?" I mused. "And do I get to hear it?"

"I'll name her Rose. Eliza Rose," she said. "That is, if you'll agree to it. If it's not a punch in the gut every time I say it?"

I staved off the surge of emotion, both humored and blessed, that spurred out in me. "Willem Elías; Sameer Gregory; Eliza Rose. That would be all your children sharing a piece of me in their name."

"I know," she said. "That was on purpose."

"...Are you sure?"

"Do you really think I'm not? Where would I be without my Elías? Dead in a ditch, no doubt."

"Dramatic," I said.

"Like Knight; like Queen."

I bobbed my head. "Svana... If that is the name you'll give her, I will concede a very happy man."

Eliza stirred, rousing from her sleep, as all newborns do. Her cry was short but fierce, and her arms stretched above her head, furious and bothered by some unknown desire.

"Oh, love," Svana said to her, rising beyond me to collect the baby in her arms.

"She's hungry," I said, moving to the door, but Svana canted her head.

"What? No. She just ate." Her features softened under the afternoon sun. "She would have you to hold her," she said.

"Oh, yes," I teased. "I'm sure that's what she wants. Some old dog, holding her."

She waited, and, drawn by her insistence, I made my way over.

I trembled as I reached for her, though I could not place it as to why. Was it that her name had proven a heavier weight than I could bear? Or was it reverence of such beauty? Such light?

Svana passed the child into my arms, and I cradled her, unsure, watching the day as it danced over her fair skin. "There she is," she hummed. "Your Eliza."

"...My Eliza," I felt escape, singing off my lips. "You humble me."

• • •

• • •

Thank you for your devotion to this series. Ostlers! At the beginning of this book, I announced Book 3. Be sure to follow me here and on insta to get updated for its release!

If you're enjoyed the Ostler's Boy, check out

The Holiday Affair

for more witty banter! 

💌