Crowned In Enmity

Chapter 3

Typically, I love working towards building a better nation; idle time is something I usually dread. But now, my duties feel like shackles, pulling me away from the answers about this connection I desperately seek.

I rub my temples and sigh in frustration, looking down at the stack of work to be done today. King Beckton's conflict with Keld has fallen into my lap. Lending Beckton soldiers was not enough; I now must also instruct and oversee them. My family's bloodline has always had a knack for military strategy, which sets us apart from other countries, but Beckton's military abilities are absolutely dreadful.

Beckton has next to no military presence of its own, a lazy country with citizens who spend their days lounging by the seaside and consuming the Realm's seafood supplies until there's hardly any left for the rest of us. I do give them credit for the hydro-dam, a remarkable invention of the late King Charles Beckton from five generations ago, whose royal enhancement was his knack for invention. Without him, the Realm would still be operating by candlelight, and for that, I am at least thankful.

However, now I'm tasked with traveling to Beckton for five weeks to assist with the conflict with Keld over the hydro-dam. Camping. Living in a military tent in ridiculously humid Beckton. Managing soldiers who have been shipped off from their cozy homes here in Margrot to be led by someone with as much military tact as a sea sponge.

I bang my head down onto my desk with an audible groan before sitting up and getting back to my work. King Beckton has provided me with what he has on the ongoing conflict with Keld, his papers written in worse handwriting than a nursery child could produce, and the military plans themselves might as well have been crafted by one.

As I puzzle over troop formations, my thoughts drift back to a certain dark-haired prince. The tugging in my chest turns to a steady hum, almost as though it is pleased that my thoughts are on him. We haven't heard a word from him or Harnsey the week that's passed since the Realm meeting, which I find both comforting and concerning. The fact that Harnsey of all countries has not retaliated against my blatant attack on their Prince is not a good sign, surely there is much worse to come if they are biding their time.

I find myself daydreaming about what he could be up to at this moment. It is very late at night; he's most likely asleep, or if the rumors about him are true, he's raking his way through Harnsey. The thought makes my stomach turn and my jaw tighten, a feeling foreign to me churning below the surface. Visions of his arms wrapped around a young woman, his hair hanging in his face, his surely chiseled form bare for her to see. My vision flashes red, and I snap the quill in my hand, splattering ink on myself and King Beckton's dismal reports.

I curse under my breath and wipe at the ink stains, but the frustration doesn't dissipate. The strange connection with Kaladin brings forth emotions that are becoming increasingly difficult to manage. The need to understand this bond is overwhelming, yet my duties pull me in every direction except the one I want to pursue.

With a heavy sigh, I stand and look out the window into the night. The moonlight bathes the manor grounds in a soft glow, but it does little to soothe my turmoil. I need answers, and until I get them, this restless feeling will continue to haunt me. In moments of solitude such as this, I find myself feeling the full weight of the bond, relishing in it, my soul almost welcoming it. It disgusts me.

***

"Anything from Harnsey?" I ask Gregory as he sets the daily reports on my desk.

"Nothing, your majesty. There hasn't been a word from Harnsey in weeks," Gregory replies, his tone reflecting the same unease I feel.

"There should have been something by now," I say, rubbing my temple in frustration. "I threw a dagger at their Prince—surely they won't just let this go without some kind of retaliation."