Chapter 113: ENOUGH

DIANA’S POV

The musicians stopped first.

Raigoro had addressed Lord Rovel, but the entire Great Hall understood the tone.

Lord Rovel turned slowly.

Raigoro had not raised his voice, and his hand remained away from the ceremonial blade at his side. Nothing in his posture suggested anger except the complete absence of warmth in his face.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace?"

"I said enough."

Nobody moved.

Diana looked at him.

For days, Raigoro had spoken to her only when work required it. He had watched Valence recognize her and asked nothing. He had seen Selena’s belongings arrive in a chest addressed to Diana and crossed the receiving court only to make clear that Diana controlled what entered her rooms.

He had maintained the distance.

Now he looked at Lord Rovel as though that distance had nothing to do with what Valence was permitted to do. ℴ

Raigoro crossed the floor.

"You began with Selena’s preferences."

Rovel said nothing.

"Then music that belonged to another child. Then Queen Elara."

Diana held the slate closer.

He had seen the progression.

All of it.

Rovel said, "We were remembering."

"No."

Raigoro stopped several feet from him.

"You were testing which memories belonged to her."

Lady Jessa moved half a step away from Rovel.

Interesting.

Raigoro continued before either of them could answer.

"Her identity has political relevance. If Valence requires an answer, submit the question formally."

His attention remained on Rovel.

"She may answer it or refuse."

Diana held the slate against her palm.

He was not defending the lie or suggesting that the truth did not matter. He was drawing a boundary around the way Valence was allowed to seek it.

Raigoro glanced once toward the untouched honey cake, the musicians, and the open hall.

"You will not use food, music, and childhood memories to take an answer she has not chosen to give."

Rovel prepared to answer, but Raigoro gave him no opportunity.

"Mistress Hale."

The housekeeper stepped forward.

"The Valence delegation is finished with rehearsal."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Raigoro did not debate the decision or ask anyone to agree with it.

Mistress Hale turned toward the nearest household servant, and the room began changing around the order. The honey-cake tray disappeared while two junior musicians gathered their sheets and a servant opened the side doors leading toward the diplomatic passage.

Lord Rovel looked toward Diana.

"I had a question I wanted answered."

Raigoro turned back to him.

"So do I."

Diana could only look at him.

"The difference is that I asked her."

Rovel said nothing.

Raigoro’s voice remained level.

"I invited you here to answer my questions, Lord Rovel. You were not invited to interrogate my wife."

My wife.

He had said it coldly, with the same formality he used for everything else, and Diana felt the words anyway.

Rovel looked at her once more, but whatever question remained stayed unasked.

Lady Jessa inclined her head.

"Your Grace."

Whether the title belonged to Raigoro or Diana was unclear.

Then she followed Rovel toward the doors, and the remaining Valence officials went with them.

When the doors closed, only Blackharrow remained.

Diana looked toward the place where Rovel had been standing.

The question about Queen Elara still existed.

Do you remember the little song she used to sing?

Yes.

Diana remembered pieces of it.

A warm afternoon near the west gallery. A melody too small to belong to court ceremony. Her mother tapping Diana’s thumb with a folded fan because six-year-old fingers had again drifted into the wrong position on the violin bow.

The memory hurt because it belonged to Diana herself, the child Valence had later erased beneath Selena’s name and the public record of the First Princess.

Rovel had known that. He had reached past Selena’s cakes and Selena’s public stories until he found something only Diana could answer.

She hated him for trying.

She hated herself slightly more for wanting to answer.

Mistress Hale approached.

"Your Grace."

Diana looked up.

The dance markers remained in place, and the senior musician waited near the eastern wall with his bow lowered.

Raigoro had come for the final partnered confirmation. The household officer who had practiced with Diana stood several paces away, visibly attempting to become part of the furniture.

They could still finish. The steward had said Raigoro needed only ten minutes.

Diana looked toward him.

He made no move toward the floor.

He simply waited.

Diana took her slate and wrote:

ENOUGH FOR TODAY.

Mistress Hale read it.

"Very well."

There was no disappointment and no reminder that the reception was tomorrow.

The senior musician began gathering the remaining sheets while the household officer exhaled so quietly Diana nearly missed it.

Servants collected the floor markers one by one.

Raigoro turned toward Daric.

"Record the incident with the delegation file."

Daric nodded.

"Rovel?"

"Nothing further unless he gives us something further."

Raigoro issued no punishment because he disliked what had happened, made no order to confine Rovel, and did not stretch his authority merely because he had it.

Daric left with the senior Citadel steward.

Mistress Hale followed the musicians toward the side corridor after giving Diana one final look that asked whether she needed anything.

Diana shook her head.

Eventually, the Great Hall emptied enough that remaining became a choice.

Raigoro started toward the Government doors.

Diana looked at the slate, then at him.

Before she could reconsider, she wrote:

WHY DID YOU STOP HIM?

Raigoro stopped and turned back.

Diana held up the slate.

She wondered whether he would answer.

"You had not agreed to answer him."

Diana stared at him.

He could have said Rovel had insulted the Duchess of Blackharrow or that a foreign delegation had exceeded its authority. He could have made the answer about his Citadel, his household, or his wife.

Instead, he had made it about her choice.

Diana wrote:

YOU WANT THE ANSWER.

"Yes."

The answer came immediately.

It hurt.

She had known it would.

Raigoro looked from the slate to her without softening the answer or pretending Lord Rovel’s behavior had erased Diana’s lie.

She would have hated a softer answer, probably.

Diana looked down at the board.

Raigoro had asked her privately. He had told her Alma was safe, promised not to send her back, and given her every protection he could give without making the answer meaningless.

Diana had still written Selena.

She remembered his face when he saw the name. The pain had been there before control returned.

Diana raised the slate again.

AND IF VALENCE ASKS FORMALLY?

"You decide whether to answer."

Her throat tightened.

Raigoro glanced toward the closed diplomatic doors.

"So do I."

Diana looked at him.

He meant his own answers. If Valence asked what he knew, he would decide what he gave them. If they asked Diana, the choice belonged to her.

The choices were separate, though Valence had made something ordinary feel remarkable.

Raigoro turned toward the Government doors again.

Diana wrote one more question.

ARE YOU STILL ANGRY?

She did not raise the slate.

The words were too direct, too private, and too close to the question she had erased after dinner days ago.

You do not believe me.

Diana rubbed the sentence away before he could see it.

Raigoro had already started walking. She watched him cross the same floor he had been expected to cross with her for rehearsal.

Tomorrow evening, the musicians would begin the opening married set.

Tonight, Diana and Raigoro had not practiced together at all.

She could still remove the dance from the program. Mistress Hale would do it without asking why, and the household could begin with the general court sequence instead.

Valence would notice.

Blackharrow would notice.

Raigoro might even be relieved.

Diana disliked that possibility immediately.

Raigoro reached the Government doors, then stopped and looked back.

"Your Grace."

The formality returned with the distance.

Diana nodded, and he left.

She remained in the Great Hall while servants returned the last chairs to their places.

The open floor looked ordinary again.

Tomorrow it would not.

Diana had spent days trying to decide what Raigoro’s distance meant.

Perhaps he regretted everything that had grown between them before the name Diana entered the room. Perhaps the unnecessary questions, the time beside Vharos, and the moments that had seemed private had mattered only while he believed she was someone else.

Today had left those questions untouched.

Raigoro had shown her something else.

He wanted the truth from her and was still angry that she had refused to give it. Yet when another man tried to take that truth without her consent, Raigoro stopped him before the answer could benefit anyone, including himself.

Diana looked toward the empty floor.

Tomorrow, if Raigoro crossed it toward her, she would know he had chosen to.

If he did not, she would know that too.

For tonight, the space remained empty.