Page 45 of The Beauty and His Beast

In the afternoons, Camdyn sat in Everild’s chair to receive petitioners. The chair was large and heavy, carved from dark wood, and though functional, it was hardly comfortable. Its armrests, designed in the shape of roaring lion’s heads, had been worn smooth over the years. Camdyn felt small in it. Even after Aldaay had placed a velvet cushion on the seat to make itmore bearable, it still felt as though the chair was swallowing him whole. Yet, despite its discomfort, there was something strangely comforting about it. Being there, in that chair, surrounded by the echoes of Everild’s presence, was a reminder of the man he loved. It was as though he could still feel Everild’s energy in the very wood of the seat.

After each session with the petitioners, there were always more things to discuss with Aldaay. It seemed that no matter how much Camdyn accomplished in a single day, there was always more waiting for him the next. The tasks never seemed to end. The castle, much like a monastery, was full of endless work. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Camdyn had come to realize that when he was busy, when he had his hands full with responsibilities, it kept his mind from wandering to darker thoughts. It kept him from worrying about Everild, though that worry was never truly gone.

The bedchamber, however, was a different story. It had become unbearable without his husband. Everild had left with his horse and his axe, and in doing so, he had taken the warmth and liveliness from the room. It felt hollow now, a space where only memories lingered. Camdyn found himself missing the smallest of things—the scratch of Everild’s quill as he wrote at his desk, the gentle clink of his spoon stirring tea, the sound of his voice during their quiet morning conversations. He missed the warmth of their shared moments—over breakfast, in the bathtub, as they dressed and undressed, lying in bed with Everild’s strong arms wrapped around him. Without him, the bed was cold, the silence oppressive.

Waking up to an empty bed and going to sleep in one just as empty was a crushing loneliness. It was hard to ignore the void, to push aside the ache that settled deep in his chest. No matter how much he tried to distract himself with tasks, there was always a part of him yearning for Everild’s presence.

But the castle’s inhabitants seemed to understand his sorrow, and they made every effort to cheer him up. The kitchen staff, in particular, took it upon themselves to lift his spirits through their food. Camdyn’s meals, which were typically simple but always comforting, were plated with more care than usual. The butter, usually a modest accompaniment to bread, had appeared on his plates in a variety of whimsical shapes—molded into little hens, flowers, reclining lambs, and even stamped with intricate patterns like wheat, bees, and birds perched on branches. They didn’t stop there. Camdyn had been presented with small loaves of bread shaped like frogs, each one with currants for eyes, sitting on a bed of cabbage in their own “pond” of soup. For dessert, there were delicate wafers—thin, crisp, and sweet—shaped to resemble lace.

Though these gestures were meant to cheer him, Camdyn couldn’t help but smile. The household was doing its best to make him feel better, and their efforts didn’t go unnoticed. The cooks, with their creative presentations; the maids, who paused in their work to tell him that they prayed for both him and Everild every night; and the guards, who humored his questions as he stood on the ramparts, watching for any sign of riders—each of them had offered kindness in their own way. They tried to make him feel at ease, to make him forget the gnawing emptiness inside him.

But despite all of their kindness, the castle never truly felt like home without Everild by his side. The empty chambers, the echo of footsteps where there should have been two, the silence where laughter should have lived—none of it felt right. Even with all the attempts to cheer him, the castle was just a place, not a home, without the man he loved.

???

The sun had not yet risen when Camdyn woke, but the faint light of dawn had already begun to paint the world outside his window with a soft, golden hue. He blinked sleepily, disoriented for a moment, before his senses caught up with him. The air was still cool, and he was cocooned in warmth under his blanket, the familiar scent of linen and Everild's scent still lingering in the room. As his eyes adjusted to the half-light, he felt a tug of concern at the sight of the glow outside. It wasn’t the morning sun that illuminated the grounds but the flickering light of lanterns and torches. Camdyn rubbed the sleep from his eyes and slipped the blanket off his shoulders. The light was coming from the stables. A peculiar stirring of urgency gripped him as he made his way over to the window.

He could see figures moving below—shadows of men, women, and horses moving quickly toward the castle. Camdyn squinted, trying to make out more details. There was a distant clamor of voices, the sound of boots hitting the ground and the clink of metal. His pulse quickened as the shape of a rider became clearer. He stepped closer to the window, heart thumping as he realized there was a group of riders gathering. They were too far for him to recognize anyone, but it didn’t matter—Everild wasn’t among them.

Camdyn knew that if his husband had returned, he would have been easy to spot. Whether on foot or mounted, Everild always stood out. Camdyn could not miss the way his husband towered over everyone, his commanding presence impossible to ignore. That was why, despite the fact that the group seemed to be bringing news of some sort, Camdyn could not suppress the disappointment that filled him. The riders must have some urgent message, perhaps word of Redmane’s capture—or worse, news of an impending threat. He swallowed hard at the thought. Or, he hoped, maybe just a message from Everild himself to reassure him that he was well.

Without wasting any more time, he hurried to prepare himself. He grabbed a robe of modest length and slipped it over his nightshirt. Everild’s velvet tunic, though soft and luxurious, was too large for him and fell too short to cover his knees properly. It was a warm and familiar garment, but today it would have to serve as his makeshift robe. He stepped into a pair of slippers, careful not to trip on the hem of the robe as he moved. His mind raced, wondering why they hadn’t arrived sooner.

As Camdyn was carefully tying the robe shut, there came a soft knock on the door. The voice of his trusted advisor, Aldaay, came through the thick wood. “Camdyn? Are you awake?”

“Barely,” Camdyn replied, his voice tinged with impatience. He quickly opened the door, finding Aldaay standing there, still half asleep, flanked by the night guards and... Willow? No—next to her stood a figure that sent a jolt of surprise and relief through him.

“Oh, Udele!” Camdyn exclaimed, his voice breaking into a smile at the sight of his old friend and the huntswoman he had come to trust. “You’ve come back! How was your journey? Have you eaten? Are you very tired? I saw the riders out near the stables—how long have you been traveling?”

Udele raised a hand to calm him, her lips curling into a warm smile. “Peace, Your Royal Highness. I’m as hearty as ever. I made good time and came as quickly as I could on your husband’s orders.” Her tone shifted slightly, growing more serious. “The outlaw Redmane is dead, and now the king will have his coronation. His Majesty is waiting for you. He’s asked for you to join him—he won’t hold the ceremony without you there.”

Camdyn blinked, stunned by the words. Redmane—dead? He had known that it was only a matter of time before the outlaw met his end. After all, he had murdered the king, and he had threatened Camdyn in ways that left a lingeringunease in his chest. But to hear the words out loud—it struck him. He couldn’t bring himself to feel joy at the news, not after everything that had happened between Redmane and his family. Still, there was no denying the weight of the victory.

"God’s will be done," Camdyn murmured softly, his hands tightening together. "Was Everild—how is he? After everything, is he well?" He couldn't help but ask, his heart aching with concern for his husband.

Udele’s expression softened, and she nodded reassuringly. “His Majesty is unharmed. Your husband is in one piece—don’t worry about that.” She paused, her eyes filled with understanding. “But I won’t lie to you, Your Highness. He’s deeply troubled by what transpired. The outcome weighed heavily on him. But he’s asked for you. He would very much like to see you.”

Camdyn’s heart clenched with compassion. Poor Everild! He must have been struggling, dealing with the ghosts of his past and the recent events that must have torn at him. There would be no one left at court who could truly understand him—Udele, Willow, Aldaay, and Camdyn were all here, but without Everild by his side, the castle seemed hollow. Camdyn clasped his hands together tightly. “I’ll get ready right away,” he said, his voice firm with determination. He quickly turned toward his chest of drawers, digging through his clothes to find something suitable for travel. “Three days, isn’t that right, Aldaay? We can get to the Capital in three days?”

Aldaay stepped into the room, his face as calm and composed as ever. “True enough,” he said, his tone steady and reassuring. “For a very fast horse and a very skilled rider, it’s possible. But it will take a few more days for all of us to make the journey.”

“Oh...” Camdyn frowned, disappointment flooding him. His lessons with Willow had made him a better rider, but hewasn’t quite as skilled as he’d like to be. He sighed. “I see. But could we—could we go faster? I want to see Everild as soon as possible.”

Aldaay gave a dry chuckle. “Yes, I’m sure he’s eager to see you too, but let’s not risk you being thrown from another horse.”

A blush crept onto Camdyn’s cheeks. “It won’t happen again! I’m much better now, and Seilide is a sweet mare. She’d never throw me.”

Aldaay raised an eyebrow, his voice teasing but wise. “She’s also getting on in years, Your Highness. Let’s have a nice, safe journey to the Capital, shall we? Your husband will be much happier to see you in one piece.”

Camdyn had no choice but to agree. Aldaay’s reasoning was sound, and after all, his husband would want him safe, not hasty. He nodded, his smile returning. “You’re right, of course. A safe journey it is.”

???

He had been ready to leave come morning, but the hours before dawn seemed to drag on endlessly. Camdyn could hardly get another moment of sleep, his mind buzzing with anticipation. He was so eager for the sun to rise and for the journey to begin. But he knew the importance of being well-rested, calm, and collected. As the king’s consort and husband, his every action reflected on Everild, and he refused to cause him any shame.

Yet despite his resolve, the excitement that bubbled inside him was almost impossible to contain. Soon, he would be reunited with Everild after a long, lonely month. It had been far too long without him. The thought of seeing his husband again, holding him, speaking to him—Camdyn could hardly wait. But there was more. He would also be traveling to theCapital, experiencing the bustle of the city once more, meeting all the people, seeing the familiar yet ever-changing faces of the court. He had grown accustomed to this life, though it had been overwhelming at first. His wedding had been the first time he had ever seen such a crowd, and at the time, he had been overwhelmed with fear and self-doubt. But now, after spending so many days with Everild, after the charity banquet where he had worked alongside so many strangers, he had learned to navigate those crowds, to embrace the connections with others, and to carry himself with dignity.

The journey, then, would be a welcome adventure. As they traveled, Camdyn would tell Everild everything—every detail, every feeling, every thought that had filled the long days without him. It would be their time together, their chance to share and to reconnect.

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