The Winter Queen (RH/Why Choose, MM, MF, MFM, FF) ✅

Chapter 16

Gwen

The days melted into each other, a blur of joy and pleasure, softness and love.

Mingled, of course, with work.

There would always be work.

But it felt less tedious being the labor that supported the woman I loved.

I had known twinges of love before, but nothing like I felt for Marielle.

It was an almost all-consuming thing, the way I thought of her, the way I felt pulled to her, day and night.

I was not lying when I said I did not mind sharing her. I understood that her desires were different from mine, but that did not mean she cared for me any less.

She searched for me in a crowded room. She reached for me when I helped her dress. She kissed me before she left the room. She shared her body and her bed with me whenever we got the chance.

It helped, I was sure, that I was fond of the men she loved, who loved her in turn. We were a group. We held one another's secrets. It was us against everything and everyone else.

"You need to stop fidgeting," I reminded her, reaching for her hands and giving them a firm squeeze. "The people need to see you calm and composed."

It was the mid-spring gala.

Arguably, one of the most important events of the year for the king and queen.

Our winters were long and hard.

Mid-spring meant hope and renewal, but also the eve of a brutal season for the farmers who would need to toil and sow and reap enough food to get the entire kingdom through the long, cold, gray months.

It was why we started the warmer months with a celebration. Free food and wine and ale for all the citizens of the kingdom. Music and frivolity. Before the hard work.

Marielle had sat in on many town meetings and political events since her marriage, impressing those in attendance with her grace and warmth and ever-growing knowledge of the kingdom's history, traditions, and goals for the future.

This, though, would be her biggest public event since her wedding.

She was nervous.

"I feel as though my insides are shaking," Marielle admitted.

"They will adore you. It is impossible not to," I told her.

"How is the king?" she asked, nibbling her lip at the mention of him.

We tried not to speak of his decline often, choosing instead to focus on more positive things. At least until Marielle was carrying the "heir," and her future—and all of ours—secured.

I did not speak of it, for I did not want to get anyone's hopes up, but I suspected she was late for her monthlies.

It was something I would bring up to her after the stress of the event was behind her.

If she was with child, there would only be nine months before everyone could breathe a sigh of relief.

No matter what, she was the mother of the heir to the kingdom.

If the king passed after the child was born and blessed as the future king, the law clearly stated that Marielle would rule until his eighteenth birthday. With, of course, all of the kingdom's close advisors.