Page 38 of The Beauty and His Beast

When he returned to their bedchamber, he requested hot water for a bath. The tub was filled as he penned his response to Cenric, letting him know that he had finally received all his letters and explaining his father’s actions.

God have mercy on him, Camdyn wrote,His ambitions have made him cruel, and he’s driven his children away. He isclawing his way to the upper rungs of society for the future of a family that wants nothing to do with him.

He gives his sincere thanks for the wedding present.It is beautifully made. I adore it. Reading all of your kind words had me weeping in the library. Poor Everild! He was so worried when he found me. But I have decided on a good gift for you all, I think, and he has agreed to help me procure all the necessary ingredients. That is your only hint! You may guess but I will not tell you what it is!

After detailing the garden’s progress and closing the letter with an eager request for Cenric to write back as soon as he could, Camdyn made his way to the bath.

This seemed like a night to use the scented oil—the one that smelled warm and sensuous with its hints of cinnamon, black pepper, sandalwood, and what Camdyn now knew was bergamot. He had experimented with a number of the little vials on the shelf, but it was this one that made Everild’s pupils dilate, and had him kissing and sucking at Camdyn’s neck as he breathed in the scent.

He hummed as he rubbed the washcloth over his skin, fantasizing about his husband returning to find him warm and flushed on the bed, wearing only the pearl choker. Would it be too much to add the matching bracelets? But maybe Everild would find the sensation of them on Camdyn’s wrists as he ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair enjoyable—

An urgent knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. “My lord? Are you, uh, are you decent? It’s important.” The guard sounded flustered. Camdyn had noticed that many of the servants and staff were nervous around him, and he suspected it was either because he was still a new member of the household or that they were uncertain how to treat someone who grew up at a monastery. Or perhaps it was a combinationof both. But there was an undercurrent of anxiety in the guard’s tone that had Camdyn climbing out of the tub. The water sloshed to the floor, spilling over the mosaic tiles.

“Just one moment, please.” Camdyn dried himself off as quickly as he could and threw on his bathrobe, tying a bow loosely at the front. “What’s happened?” he asked the guards when he opened the door.

The two men stammered and talked over one another.

“Lord Everild and Aldaay are in the study—“

“Riders, from the Capital—“

Camdyn held up a hand. “Please, just one of you speak.”

After a pause, one of the guards took a deep breath and said, “Officials from the Capital have arrived. They’ve been traveling nonstop for days. Lord Everild and Aldaay are speaking to them in the study. Your presence has been requested.”

“Oh, goodness,” Camdyn murmured. “Do you have any idea what’s happened?”

He shook his head. “No, my lord. We were just told to inform you that you’re needed.”

Camdyn nodded. It didn’t matter what the issue was—in these types of situations, his duty was to support Everild in any way he could. “I’ll be out in a moment. I just need to get dressed.”

He shut the door as a beet-red color crawled up the men’s faces.

Something simple that he could get into by himself, but still neat and elegant. Camdyn chose a light blue tunic that hung off his shoulders with long, flowing sleeves. He tied a white sash around his waist and searched for his white slippers. Camdyn hadn’t worn the pair since his wedding, but they would go with his outfit nicely. He stepped into them; they were still soft and light.

At the very least, Camdyn mused, he could wear his pearls for Everild while they sat through whatever pressing matter had arrived from the Capital. He pulled the choker and bracelet from his jewelry box and put them on.

He dressed very quickly, but as he looked in the mirror, Camdyn was pleased with his appearance. There was a sort of wide-eyed, youthful look about his face that had stayed with him well into adulthood. The cut of his robes and the pearls around his neck and wrist gave him a more mature, dignified air. Like a more fitting companion for Everild, whose stern and stoic expression commanded respect.

Camdyn opened the bedchamber doors. “I’m ready. Please, take me to my husband.”

???

It was late, Camdyn thought as they rushed through the corridors toward Everild’s study. The dim glow of candlelight flickered along the walls, casting long shadows in the passageways, the warmth of the flames failing to reach the chill that settled in Camdyn’s chest. Night had settled fully outside, and the stillness of the hour seemed to amplify the urgency that had pulled them from their bedchamber. What could be so pressing at such an hour?

Surely, it wasn’t another war? The mere thought of it made Camdyn’s heart stumble in his chest. The familiar fear of conflict, the chaotic rush of battle, sent a cold shiver down his spine. But what else could prompt such a sudden arrival of men from the Capital? The King would surely want Everild at his side once more, but—Camdyn hesitated, thoughts swirling in a storm. Everild hadn’t taken up a sword in years, not since the war had ended. In fact, the last time he had held a blade had been at the final battle, and that had been the end of it. Everildhad never been fond of conflict, not the kind where men’s lives were at stake, where the air smelled of blood and iron. He had grown quieter, less inclined to command. The loud, crowded rooms full of power and demands made him tense, made him uneasy. Camdyn had seen it, how his husband would retreat into himself, strain his voice if forced to command, the pressure of it all weighing heavily on him. And when that happened, Camdyn would be there—always there—to make sure Everild drank his tea, to make sure he didn’t push himself too far.

But now… What if Everild had to leave again? What if duty called him to fight once more? The thought was unbearable. Camdyn bit down hard on his lip, desperate to keep the tremble from escaping. He couldn’t cry now, couldn’t let the flood of emotion overtake him. He cried too easily—sometimes in joy, but more often in sorrow. It wasn’t the time for tears, not when there was so much unknown. Whatever the matter was, whatever decision his husband had to make, Camdyn knew one thing for certain: he would be Everild’s support. Just as Everild had been his, through every trial and every challenge, so too would Camdyn stand by him now.

He straightened his posture, pushing aside the doubts that clung to him like the night shadows. The cacophony of voices grew louder as they neared the study—a mixture of shouts and raised voices, the unmistakable hum of chaos within. Camdyn swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. His fingers itched to hold Everild, to anchor him amidst the storm.

The guards opened the doors. Camdyn walked in, every step deliberate, every inch of him steeled. His head was high, his shoulders pulled back with resolve. The study, which had once felt like a place of calm, of contemplation, was now filled with strangers, their presence heavy and tense. They were an unsettling sight—exhausted, their clothes torn and stained with the evidence of days spent in travel, their faces marked withthe strain of worry and fatigue. Some were red-faced with rage, others pale and gaunt from fear. Aldaay stood at the center of it all, his usually calm demeanor shattered, his eyes frantic and agitated.

And there, by the desk, stood Everild—still and quiet, a figure of silence amidst the chaos. His face was ashen, drained of all color, and his eyes were hollow, glazed with the weight of whatever news had been delivered. He looked so small in the center of the room, so vulnerable amidst these strangers whose voices filled the space with demands and urgency.

As Camdyn strode forward, the men in the room bowed deeply, one by one, dropping to one knee as he passed. The formal gesture was not something Camdyn was accustomed to. Should he address them? What was the proper protocol in this moment of heightened tension? He cursed himself for not studying etiquette more thoroughly, for not knowing what was expected of him. But at that moment, as he stood before Everild, none of the other matters seemed important. All he could focus on was the look of distress in his husband's eyes.

“What’s happened, my lord?” Camdyn asked, his voice soft but firm, his concern pushing through the uncertainty. “Why are you in such distress?”

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