A happy squeal broke the silence, and I looked up to see Kaden and Pauline at t
he entrance to the hall quietly conferring. He handed Rhys to her, but they remained a tight knot, his lips brushing hers with ease. They grew closer every day. Yes, I thought, there are a hundred ways to fall in love.
I walked over and replaced the broom in its spot near the sideboard. I had no more time for daydreaming. Piles of paper waited for me and I—
“Lia?” Kaden called.
I turned. He and Pauline walked closer. “Yes?”
“There’s another emissary here to see you.”
I rolled my eyes. I was weary of the endless meetings with the Lesser Kingdoms. It seemed nothing was ever settled once and for all. There were always more assurances I had to offer them. “He or she can wait until—”
“It’s an emissary from the king of Dalbreck,” Pauline said.
When I didn’t budge, Kaden added a reminder. “Dalbreck has been very generous with their supplies.”
I grunted and conceded. “Show him in.”
Kaden looked over my drab attire. “Aren’t you going to change into something more … presentable?”
I looked down at my work dress, then shot him a disapproving stare, saying more firmly, “Show him in.”
Pauline began to protest too, but I stopped her.
“If this is good enough for the people of Venda, it’s good enough for an emissary.”
They both frowned.
I pulled my cap from my head and brushed my hair with my fingers. “There! That better?”
They both sighed and left. Minutes later, they returned, Pauline rushing in ahead, standing stiffly near the hearth. Kaden stood at the end of the hall, mostly cast in shadows. I could hear the shuffling of a contingent somewhere behind him. Kaden stepped forward and announced, “The emissary of Dalbreck, here to speak with the queen of Venda.”
I waved my fingers forward impatiently, and Kaden stepped aside.
The emissary stepped forward.
I blinked.
I swallowed.
He walked across the hall toward me. The only sound was his heavy boots tapping on the stone.
He stopped in front of me, his eyes looking into mine, and then slowly, he dropped to one knee. “Your Majesty.”
I couldn’t find my voice. My tongue was sand and my throat like a stiff dried bone. Somehow I made my fingertips move, and I motioned for him to stand.
He rose to his feet, and I swallowed again, finally conjuring some moisture to my tongue. I surveyed his rumpled clothes, dusty from a long journey. “You look more like a farmer than a grand emissary of Dalbreck,” I said.
His eyes gleamed. “And you look more like a tavern maid than the queen of Venda.”
He stepped closer.
“And what brings you so far?” I asked.
“I brought you something.”
This time it was he who motioned with his hand.