Looking back on those fond memories now, Roy realized with a sudden jolt of surprise that he was smiling. Others frequently called him an expressionless man, and yet the corners of his mouth, so unused to levity, now relaxed into a curve. Roy did not often find much worth smiling at. He enjoyed seeing commoners smile, as such smiles were simple representations of joy, but Roy was far too used to the nobility fawning over him with flattering grins. He was the king, and it was vital that others understood his absolute authority, even if it required him to be intimidating at smiles. Pointless smiling meant weakness. And yet...why was he smiling now? He searched his mind and soon found the reason—because he was happy.
Born the crown prince, Roy had spent his whole life with the understanding that he should be a great king and raise a great kingdom. However, if he could have but one selfish wish, a single desire to do something for himself, Roy wanted to make for Heath...for Fie...a kingdom where she could live in happiness. This was his wish; not the king’s wish, Roy’s wish. And now it could never come true... Or perhaps this wish had been flawed from the beginning.
There in his tent with no other eyes upon him, a young man who had spent decades of his life knowing he should be king heaved a sigh and gave the very first personal smile of his life.
✦ ✦ ✦
The news of the end of the war and Roy’s homecoming reached Fie back in Wienne.
“King Roy is on his way home,” said one of the maids, giggling. “Your Majesty, isn’t this a good opportunity to change your clothes?”
The maids were in high spirits as they tried to make Fie change into yet another new dress. (“Yet another” being the operative term, as this was the third time this day alone.) They had also already brushed her hair to death and even forced her into wearing a light coat of makeup.
Ugh. Fie groaned internally. What a waste of time. It made no sense to her why they kept dolling her up, but hey, she thought, when in Rome. Thus, she let the maids do as they pleased. Besides, she had bigger fish to fry, namely her plan to marry Queen.
She ran into trouble right out of the gate because, after all, she was already King Roy’s second wife. His first wife was not in the picture right now, but...well, there was no need to drag Fielle into this. At any rate, Fie assumed that Roy might very well refuse her request for divorce, as losing his second wife would tarnish his reputation. She also thought he might be angry at her because, for lack of a better word, she had jilted him. Additionally, her biggest concern was that Queen might end up punished in some way due to carrying on an affair with her while she was still married. With all these myriad worries, Fie wasn’t sure how to broach the topic but ultimately decided to come straight out and ask him for a divorce directly. That, Fie thought, would probably be the best approach.
Roy occupied Fie’s mind during her absence, partially due to her promise to marry Queen but also partially due to her own interests. She didn’t resent him any longer; she had forgiven him, although, she thought, that might have been a result of her guilt in having Captain Yore, of all people, apologizing to her. As such, it was little wonder how much time she spent thinking about him, and her time here in Orstoll, in his absence.
She had first arrived in Orstoll with no reception beyond being chucked into the consort’s chambers, unable to get a single word in. Thinking back on it now, she recognized that this had King Roy’s—no, Captain Yore’s—name written all over it. She had witnessed firsthand (and subsequently told him off about) multiple times back when she was a squire just how poorly he treated women.
Afterwards, her head chef had begged to go on leave, and her supply of food ran out. Looking back, she realized this was also partially her fault; she should have reached out to someone and raised a stink about it. Even now, she didn’t think her door guards had been the most trustworthy of people, but surely if she had kicked up enough of a fuss, news of it would have reached King Roy’s ear somehow. He was the kind of person who would have sent someone to help her, as Fie now knew. She no longer believed in handling everything herself, but that was because she had met so many caring adults during her time as a squire; prior to that, her hopeless life had made her such a misanthrope that asking for help was out of the question. Yet now Fie understood the true solution to her problems.
(When told this, Lynette responded, “Nonsense! It is entirely His Majesty’s fault!”)
Later, her captain recruited her into the 18th platoon, much to her joy. It was the first time she had ever been needed. Then the life of her dreams began. It was one short year, but it was the best year of her life. There she met Captain Yore, Crow, the other knights of the 18th platoon, then Gormus, Remie, Slad, Gees, and finally Queen—each and every one of them important to her. If any one of them ended up in trouble, she’d drop everything to rush to their aid. If any one of them wanted for anything, she’d see to it that their wishes were fulfilled. That was why she needed to do her best for Queen and the man who built this wonderful kingdom. That was why she chose to talk with King Roy face-to-face. This was her solution, the reason she chose to speak to the man who was both her king and her beloved captain: trust.
“According to a messenger on horseback, His Majesty is less than three days away,” the maid reported happily. Rightfully speaking, news of this sort (and the matter of welcoming the king upon his return) should have gone to his first wife. Sure, Fie thought, Fielle isn’t married to him, so I get why they don’t bring it up with her. But why me? I’m only his second wife. And hadn’t the chancellor said he wanted her to become Roy’s first wife and queen? Me, Roy’s first wife? Fie didn’t understand why he wanted that. Having everyone welcome her was such a vast difference from when she first arrived. She couldn’t help but feel just a tad peeved that they changed their minds on her so abruptly, but she tried not to let it bother her too much. Everyone made mistakes, as Fie well knew, being both a victim of being mistaken and a mistake maker herself.
And, more importantly, she needed to do her best for Queen. She steeled herself for an even bigger challenge to come. All right, she thought, let’s do this! She was ready. It was time to take up arms!
Unfortunately, that thought translated to her putting up her literal arms.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” the maid said. “Please lower your arms. I can’t change your dress like this.”
Fie quickly dropped them both.