Chapter 19: Forget It

Naya had spent the last day finding every possible reason to avoid her husband. After his warning that he’d find out what her family had sent her to do, she couldn’t relax in a room with him anymore. Every time their eyes met, she wondered whether today would be the day he uncovered exactly what had been in that letter.

There was something else bothering her too, something she liked even less. She kept thinking about the almost-kiss. About the way he’d defended her before the council. About the fact that he kept acting like she belonged to him, in ways that made her chest do something she refused to name.

So she avoided him.

"You’ve taken breakfast in your room three mornings in a row," Mira said, arranging the last pin in Naya’s hair.

"I’ve been busy."

"You changed your schedule twice yesterday alone."

"I’m not avoiding him."

"Of course not."

"I’m not."

"Then I’m sure it was a coincidence that you left the library the moment he walked in."

Naya glared at her reflection in the mirror. Mira kept working, unbothered.

"I don’t know how to act around him anymore," Naya admitted finally. "Before, it was easy. He hated me, I hated him, we argued, and that was the whole shape of it. Now he still says he hates me, but he watches me. Defends me. Gets jealous over things that shouldn’t matter to him. Almost kisses me. And then acts like none of it happened." ℯℯ𝑙.

"Perhaps all of it is real," Mira said.

Naya turned. "What?"

"People are rarely only one thing. He can be cruel and also protective. He can love Seraphine’s memory and still feel something confusing about you."

"He doesn’t feel anything for me."

Mira didn’t argue. She simply said, "Then perhaps His Majesty should stop looking like he wants to fight anyone who makes you laugh."

Naya was still fighting a smile when the knock came.

A servant informed her she was expected in the King’s study. Naya’s stomach dropped immediately. He found something, she thought. He knows about the letter. She kept her face composed as she walked, though her mind ran through every possibility, every version of the moment someone might have seen her burn her father’s words.

Ronan was already dressed for travel when she entered.

"You sent for me?"

"Get ready. You’re coming with me."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?"

"Considering the last time you decided something for me, I ended up accused of theft and punished for it. Yes. It matters."

Something shifted in his expression, though not into anger. "We’re visiting East Ridge. There’s a problem in the territory."

"Why do I need to come?"

"Because you’re my wife."

"That answer is becoming very irritating."

For a fraction of a second, something close to a smile touched his mouth before it disappeared. "Get ready," he said again, and walked past her.

The carriage ride began in silence, Naya determined not to speak first, Ronan apparently content reading through his documents. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Finally she broke.

"Are you going to tell me what happened in East Ridge?"

He lowered the papers. "A poor harvest. Disputes between two families over resources."

"So you’re going because of food."

"Among other things."

She thought of the council meeting, the allocations she’d redirected. "Was East Ridge one of the territories I sent supplies toward?"

"It was."

"So you agreed with me."

"I agreed with your numbers."

"That’s practically affection, coming from you."

His eyes lifted to hers, and she realized what she’d said a beat too late. Silence stretched, until he said, "Don’t get ahead of yourself," and she smiled despite herself, because for the first time in days, this felt almost normal.

"Why did you really bring me?" she asked.

"You wanted responsibilities."

"I wanted to understand what was expected of me."

"Then understand," he said, and returned to his papers, ending the conversation before it could go anywhere she might have wanted it to.

East Ridge looked nothing like the palace. Smaller homes lined dirt paths, tired families gathered near half-repaired storage buildings, children peering out from doorways at the arrival of the royal carriage. Naya had expected Ronan to arrive with an entourage and issue orders from a distance. Instead he walked among the people himself.

A woman complained about her family’s dwindling supply. An older man argued that a rival family had received more than their share. Ronan asked questions before he answered any of them. He checked records. He knew names without being told.

A small child wandered up to him while the adults nearby stiffened, and Ronan crouched down to meet the boy’s eyes.

"When will the food come?" the child asked.

Ronan glanced toward Naya briefly before answering. "Soon."

He meant it. Naya could see that much plainly, and it unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. She wasn’t ready to think of him as anything other than the man who had put his hands around her throat over a necklace she hadn’t taken. But watching him now, crouched in the dirt speaking gently to a frightened child, she couldn’t pretend he was only that either. He was more complicated than she wanted him to be, and that felt like its own kind of danger.

While speaking with one of the local leaders, Naya recognized a set of numbers from her own allocation records. "This was supposed to have already arrived," she said.

The leader hesitated. Ronan noticed immediately and pressed him, and the man finally admitted some of the provisions had been delayed.

"Delayed where?" Naya asked.

Nobody had an answer, and Ronan ordered his guards to look into it. It wasn’t much, only a loose thread, but Naya felt something settle in her chest at having noticed it before anyone else had. Ronan noticed that she’d noticed. She saw it in the brief look he gave her.

Later, walking apart from the settlement while they waited for the carriage, Naya finally said what had been building in her all afternoon.

"You could have fooled me."

"About what?"

"That you care." She turned to face him. "You listen to them."

"They’re my people."

"And what am I?" The question left her before she’d decided to ask it, and she regretted it instantly. Silence stretched between them, and before he could answer, she pushed forward anyway. "You listened to every one of them today before making a single decision. But when I told you I didn’t steal that necklace, you didn’t even bother asking if I was telling the truth."

His expression hardened, and she braced for anger. Instead he looked away.

"I believed I knew who you were," he said.

"And now?"

He looked back at her, and the pause before he answered felt longer than it should have. "Now I’m not sure."

It wasn’t an apology. It was the closest thing he’d offered her yet, and before she could find a response, he started walking again, leaving her to follow.

The carriage ride back felt different, still tense but softer at the edges. Naya found herself watching him longer than she meant to.

"What?" he asked, catching her.

"Nothing."

"You’re staring."

"You’re very observant for someone who didn’t notice his own wife was innocent."

It nearly started another argument, but instead he only gave her a look, and she smiled, and he turned away, though she caught the faintest fight against a smile of his own.

The carriage hit a rough patch of road, and Naya lost her balance without warning, falling toward him. His arm caught her instinctively, wrapping around her waist, her hand landing flat against his chest. Everything else stopped.

She looked up at him. He was already looking down at her, and neither of them moved. She was aware of his heartbeat under her palm, steady and then suddenly not, aware of his scent and the warmth of his arm still holding her in place.

"Are you going to let me go?" she asked quietly.

His eyes stayed on hers. "You’re making this very difficult for me, Naya."

Her heart lurched. "Making what difficult?"

Something closed behind his eyes the moment he realized what he’d said. He released her at once, moving back to his side of the carriage. "Forget I said anything."

"Ronan—"

"Forget it."

The carriage continued on, neither of them speaking, but the silence that followed felt nothing like the one they’d started the day with. Naya watched him for a long moment, and he refused to look back at her, and for the first time since she’d arrived in his kingdom, she found herself wondering if Ronan Veyr was fighting something just as hard as she was.