Crazy Duke and Fallen Queen

How can someone retain their energies like this, I will never understand. Thank goodness I said after lunch while talking with the officers, for I won't be able to get up early tomorrow.

Alexander is shaving at the light of a lantern, wearing only his trousers and letting me admire his back from the bed.

As for me... I'm lying down, my head resting on the arms, covered by the sheet in strategic spots. I'm staring shamelessly, smiling when our eyes meet on the giant mirror of the dressing table. That's the most I can do at this moment: smiling.

I will soon turn thirty, so it's expectable that I can't keep such rhythms anymore. Even though I've got used to it.

As long as we keep exercising, my muscles will retain their fitness, won't they?

«We've received a letter,» Alexander murmurs.

«I know,» I sigh.

It was waiting for us when we arrived here. It amazes me how missives travel so fast when we need two months to reach Polis.

I'm too exhausted to get up and read it now; it can wait for tomorrow just how it already waited for days.

«It's from the children,» Alexander adds.

«How do you know?» I murmur.

But still, I get up. I walk to the table, catch the letter, and nestle on the sofa.

Then, I open it.

«There are many letters in here,» I notice. Three... No, four sheets.

What did they write for goodness?

«Because the Countess told me she would send their letters if she noticed they were becoming gloomy.»

«Oh, are they already missing us?» I chuckle.

The larger paper is for me. It's written: for mother.

The other three are smaller and all for Alexander, for dad. One is just a drawing from the smallest ball, while medium and large ball wrote their thoughts for him.

«Why do you have three?» I wonder, my eyes almost teary.

«I'm sure that your letter is worth three of mine, Thea,» he chuckles, drying his jaw and checking if he forgot some spot.

«But... all three of them wrote to you!»

«To you too, I'm sure. Just, they made Vinnie compose it so you wouldn't get upset by Elias's bad writing.»

«You also have a drawing!» I complain.

«Ah, we both know what is in the drawing,» he sighs.

Well, the small ball was the most attached to me among our children. It was difficult for me too to leave him in Stoneyard. I can't imagine his suffering...

He's three, almost four. Oh, how grown-up will he be when I come back? The other two too! Lavinia will turn eleven this autumn, and she'll start blooming into a young girl.

Elias is seven, still small, but children that age do grow up fast.

«Maybe, we should have waited some more before coming here,» I murmur.

«It's the right time,» Alexander comments. «And our children are taken care of in Stoneyard. They better understand they can't stay with their mother so often...»

I open the drawing and take a look before Alexander has time to walk here.

Indeed, it's me.

Rowan used his little hands to draw a blond woman. He also made Elias write down: my mother is most pretty.

I can imagine him pulling his brother's sleeve and looking at him with his pleading expression until the latter accepted to write something slightly embarrassing for a man his age.

«It sounds more like a threat than a letter for me,» Alexander chuckles. «If it wasn't for my name written there, I would think it's for you.»

«No, it's most likely a threat,» I agree. «Don't make his mother become ugly, all right?»

«I have no intention of doing that, my love.»

«What about the Lavinia and Elias?» I inquire while delivering the two messages.

Alexander sits next to me and reads his part of the letters.

«They're complaining about each other,» he sighs.

Then, he takes the drawing from my bands and puts it on the table next to his letters.

«This is for me, not you,» he reminds me. «And you have no use of a drawing of yourself.»

But it's so pretty! Even if my eyes are one bigger than the other. And one of the hands has four fingers while the other six. At least, the total adds to ten...

«Read your letter, and you'll most likely understand the matter,» Alexander murmurs while looking at his missives.

He's pouting.

«Look, they wrote daddy,» I point out.

«Yes. Because they wanted to attract my attention to how Lavinia doesn't let Elias play in her room. And how the latter broke one of her dolls.»

«It was by accident,» I murmur.

«Explain it to Vinnie.»

Oh, she would start whining about how I love Elias more. And how I always protect him because he's the heir.

«If that girl knew how much we doted on her when she was so little,» I sigh.

However, this makes me rest assured. She doesn't have memories from past lives. None of our children does.

I have almost suspected Rowan a few times because he's too smart for a toddler. But he's just so sweet and clueless that I realised it's stupid to think about it so much.

And also, in our first life, the only child we had was Elias. And the current Elias is not reborn. He's like me: a new person.

He didn't even have dreams, luckily. I would have noticed the nightmares: I was so attentive when he was little!

That might be part of the reasons why Lavinia is so jealous. But she had her cut of our love as much as Elias. And Rowan too.

It's difficult because we love every child in a different way, as they are all different from each other, but we managed to reserve the same attention to everyone. We can't choose among them, as we love them all with our whole hearts.

«Oh, look, even Rowan is now a doll-breaker,» Alexander comments.

«Lavinia is complaining about him too?»

«No, it's Elias. He says that Lavinia should get angry with the little one too, not just with him.»

«But who can get angry with that little ball?»

«I can get angry,» Alexander points out.

Oh, that's not entirely true.

Even if he does get jealous when Rowan can get close to me on every occasion, Alexander was never bothered by it to such a point.

He's also the only one daring to call me mum. The others both use mother as an epithet. Elias couldn't even write it in his brother's name.

Rowan would often stroll to me and raise his hands, even the few days before departure. He wanted me to carry him, and he's never stopped looking for contact.

Last time, Alexander towered over us and glared at the little ball.

«You're too heavy for your mother to carry you,» he thundered.

Both the little ball and I shivered at that scene as if caught in something illegal. But then, Rowan moved his arms from me to Alexander and made his father carry him for the rest of the day.

That sort of ability in resolving conflict is an asset in diplomacy.

Even sending the drawing to Alexander might be part of a bigger picture.

My letter was written by Lavinia but signed by all three of them. It's nice to see such collaboration. They worked really hard to agree on what to write. And there isn't a single complaint.

They describe one of their days. They tell what noticeable happened and how much the Countess repeated they should write a missive for us to express their love.

Oh, now it feels more like a report than a heartfelt letter.

The paper is white and perfect. Even the signature is cleaner than usual. They even signed in age order and didn't fight about it. This way, Lavinia could have her name on top as the little tactician she is.

«Yours are stained by jam,» I notice, glancing at the papers Alexander is still looking at.

He's read it already. Twice, I bet. Yet, his eyes are shining with happiness and pride as he observes all three of them.

«Yes, that's true,» he chuckles. «They couldn't wait to finish their meal before running to write to me.»

Or, most probably, they managed to get their hands on the food before finishing the letters.

The mighty Lord of Kyre is famous in all the Empire, maybe even in the continent, for his merciless character and firm decisions. His dark aura makes most shiver of dread, and they all respect him to the core.

Only in Stoneyard, at most within Kyre's borders, do people know he's actually a slave to his children. He spoils them so much that people started thinking of buying them presents before asking for a favour.

He's never denied something to them, and his firm scoldings finish after a sentence or two. And the children end up coddling after a glance.

It's my firm will and hard work that avoided them transforming into spoiled, selfish brats.

«They ask me to kiss you in their stead,» he then adds.

«Are you using their letters to your advantage?»

«I would never...»

I sigh and offer my cheek for a chaste peck. Well, three pecks.