The morning chill of the third week settled over Eldrath when the news rippled through the palace: King Aedric and Lord Varin had returned. Their arrival was as sudden and silent as their departure, no fanfare, just the tightening of the guards and a new, rigid tension in the air. Maria felt it immediately, a heavy blanket of authority settling back over the castle.
She had spent the two weeks in a delicate dance of diplomacy and careful observation. With Mara's quiet insights, she had navigated the treacherous waters of court gossip and silent judgement. But now, the true test had returned.
She found herself, as she often did, in the king's private library. It was a vast, towering chamber of dark wood and ancient scrolls, smelling of aged parchment and cold stone. It was a place she felt less watched, a place of knowledge that offered a strange comfort. She had secured access with a quiet, polite request to Torvin, her guard captain, who, surprisingly, had simply given her the key.
Maria was perched on a tall, wooden stool, carefully turning the pages of an immense, leather-bound book on Northern cartography, trying to decipher the complex, runic annotations. The heavy wolf fur cloak was draped over her shoulders, a constant reminder of the binding magic.
A subtle shift in the air. Not a sound, not a shadow. But Maria felt it, a prickling sensation of immense, contained power entering the room. She froze, her fingers still on the page.
Then, Aedric's voice, deep and resonant, cut through the quiet.
"I see my private collections hold more appeal than welcoming your king, Queen Maria."
Maria slowly turned on the stool, closing the heavy book with a soft thud. He stood by the entrance, still dressed in his travel leathers, the faint scent of horse and winter clinging to him. His face was grim, unreadable, his eyes as cold and sharp as the mountain air. She had not even heard him approach.
"Your Majesty," Maria said, her voice steady despite the sudden jolt of alarm. She slid off the stool, making a respectful curtsy. "I find solace in knowledge, particularly when in a new land. And these maps are... quite remarkable."
He didn't move, simply observing her. "Remarkable enough to trespass into my private library without my leave?"
He stepped inside, the door closing softly behind him. "Few are allowed here. Even my council treads lightly among these shelves."
She gestured faintly to the open books. "Then I must be a bold trespasser."
That earned the ghost of a smirk from him. "Bold seems to be a habit of yours."
Maria met his gaze evenly, though her heart was beating fast.
"I wasn't searching for secrets, if that's what you're wondering. Only knowledge. Only for something to fill the silence. It's a long way from the life I knew."
He said nothing, waiting.
"I secured the key from Captain Torvin," she replied, lifting her chin slightly. "I was under the impression that as your queen, my access to the palace extends to its... educational resources."
Aedric's gaze was unwavering. "Indeed. Though a Southern queen might find more value in understanding her new household than the frozen borders."
Maria walked towards him, slowly, deliberately. "On the contrary, Your Majesty. I have spent the last two weeks familiarizing myself with both. My maids, my guards, the court's subtle machinations. I am learning. But I have also spent my days understanding the lay of your lands, the routes, the strategic importance of the very garrisons you have just inspected."
Aedric said nothing. He watched her as if she were a puzzle he couldn't quite decide to solve or discard.
She paused, a hint of defiance in her silver eyes. "In Sareen, I used to ride with my father to inspect our own garrisons" she continued, her voice softer now, almost wistful.
"I helped plan trade routes, advised on crop yields, and even sat in council debates. I read reports, drafted letters, rode with the wardens when the borders grew restless. I watched treaties rise and crumble and I learnt that power isn't kept by titles, but by knowing the weight of what you command. But because I am a woman in your kingdom, my knowledge is now confined to the domestic sphere, my abilities reduced to selecting gowns and hosting barren feasts." Her cheeks flushed with a genuine, hot anger that briefly overcame her usual composure.
Aedric listened, his expression unchanged, a cold mask. He walked past her, his heavy boots making no sound on the rugs, and picked up a small, ancient astrolabe from a nearby desk. He turned it slowly in his hand.
"You are Queen of the North now, Maria," he said, his voice flat, emotionless. "Your duties are to secure the alliance, to maintain peace in my halls, and to provide heirs. My kingdom demands a strong hand, not a lecturing one. Your 'abilities' as you call them, will be directed where they are most needed. Your father's kingdom is not mine, and his customs are not ours."
He set the astrolabe down with a soft click. "The South has its ways, the North has its own. You will adapt."
"The North has no need for idle hands meddling in affairs they don't understand. You were brought here for peace, not policy."
Maria met his eyes, her tone still calm, though her chest tightened with the quiet ache of humiliation. "And yet peace does not hold itself together by chance."
He stepped closer, until the firelight reached his face. "You would lecture me on peace? In my own hall?"
Her throat tightened, but she didn't look away. "No, my lord. Only remind you that alliances are more than signatures on parchment."
For a long, tense moment, they stared at one another. Something flickered in his gaze — irritation, perhaps, or the faintest hint of respect. Then it was gone.
Aedric's face didn't shift, but something in the air between them tightened. When he finally spoke, his tone was cold, measured, as though reminding her where the walls stood.
"The North does not ask its queens to rule. It asks them to endure. Peace comes at that price."
Maria's eyes lifted to his, clear and unflinching. "Enduring without purpose isn't peace, it's decay."
That silenced him for a heartbeat. The fire popped, the sound sharp in the stillness.
Then, in a low voice, he said, "You would do well to choose your moments carefully here, Maria."
"I always do," she replied.
Something passed over his face not anger this time, but thought. He moved to the nearest shelf, pulling free a heavy book and turning it idly in his hands. "If you're determined to read, at least read something worth your time. The histories of our wars might teach you what endurance costs."
"I already have," she said simply.
His eyes flicked to hers again sharper now, assessing. The faintest curve touched his mouth, not quite a smile. "So you have."
He turned, his cold eyes sweeping over her, lingering for a moment on the faint, barely perceptible tremor that ran through her hand where it rested on the spine of a book.
"I trust the apothecary was... satisfactory? " he asked, a subtle shift in his tone.
Maria straightened her shoulders. "He prescribed a tonic for 'Northern airs'. It was... informative."
Aedric merely nodded, then walked to the door. "You will dine with me tonight, Queen Maria. We have much to discuss regarding the stability of your new household."
"And next time, ask before entering, Your Majesty," he said without looking back.
He left the library as silently as he had arrived, leaving Maria alone amidst the towering shelves and the lingering scent of snow and leather.
She was Queen, but she was also a prisoner, her skills dismissed, her power hidden.
Maria watched him go, her pulse steady now, the faintest trace of a smirk curling her lips once the door closed.
Though Maria was to visit the library again and again, and the king would not mind or ask no more.The dinner was held in a smaller, private dining room, designed for counsel rather than banquets. The room was strictly Northern: dark oak panelling, iron candelabras casting severe shadows, and high-backed chairs that felt less like seating and more like individual thrones. The silence was broken only by the scrape of silver against the pewter dishes.
Maria wore the grey dress Mara had suggested, its severe colour lending her a suitable gravitas. Aedric sat opposite her, having changed into a finely tailored black wool tunic, radiating an aura of contained power.
He ate slowly, deliberately. Maria mirrored his stillness, allowing the silence to stretch, refusing to be the one to break the tension.
Finally, Aedric set down his knife, his gaze locking onto hers, cold and penetrating.
"The court was manageable in my absence?"
"The palace is vast, Your Majesty. I found its stillness informative, but otherwise uneventful."
Aedric gave a sharp, definitive nod, accepting the response without comment. He returned to his meal, indicating the conversation was over. Maria understood the dismissal.
She waited a moment, then rose and curtsied low. "With your permission, Your Majesty, I will retire."
He gave a minimal gesture of assent.
As the heavy oak door closed behind her, Aedric remained seated, staring at the empty chair. He reached out and touched the spot on the table where Maria's hand had rested. It felt inexplicably colder than the rest of the wood. His lips curved slightly, a cold, predatory smile.