Page 22 of The Curse Between Us

“Would it help you?” Edric asked quietly, watching the way Zephyr’s hands stilled as he separated the segments of fruit. “To have someone familiar with you?”

Zephyr hesitated, then nodded. “Yes,” he admitted. “This castle is vast, and I find myself… untethered, at times. Your company is a balm, but you have your duties, and I cannot ask you to constantly mind me.” He looked up then, meeting Edric’s gaze directly. “I do not wish to be a burden.”

“You’re not.” The words came out sharper than Edric intended, and he softened his tone. “You are not a burden, Zephyr. I want you to be comfortable here. If that means inviting a member of your family to stay, then we will make the arrangements.”

Zephyr’s eyes shone with gratitude, and for a moment, it seemed he might reach for Edric’s hand across the table. He caught himself at the last second, fingers curling into a loose fist in his lap. The absence of the touch lingered like a ghost between them, heavy and aching.

“Thank you,” Zephyr said softly.

Edric swallowed past the tightness in his throat and nodded. “You’re welcome,” he said, and the words felt woefully insufficient for the storm of emotion churning within him.

After they finished eating, Edric took Zephyr on a leisurely but thorough tour of the training grounds, explaining in detail how he had passed the early hours of the day. Thegrounds were vast, divided into sections for sparring, archery, and mounted drills, each designed to hone different aspects of combat and strategy. A few soldiers lingered despite the rising heat, practicing with the diligence of those who knew war could arrive unbidden, even in times of peace.

Zephyr listened with rapt attention, his sharp gaze flitting over the soldiers’ forms as they moved through their routines. He asked thoughtful questions — not only about the logistics of training but also about how the barracks might evolve to accommodate soldiers from both kingdoms. His inquiries were precise, probing into matters of integration and morale, and though Edric didn’t always have immediate answers, he welcomed the chance to consider them.

When the sun reached its zenith, casting sharp rays across the stone walls, Edric gently touched Zephyr’s arm to steer him back toward the castle. “We ought to make our way to the council chamber,” he said. “It would be rude to be late.”

Zephyr’s lips curled into a faint smile, though Edric noticed the tension in his shoulders. For all his poise, the prospect of sitting before a council of strangers, most of whom likely viewed him with suspicion, couldn’t be easy. Edric offered him a reassuring smile, silently vowing to shield him from any undue hostility.

The council chamber was one of Edric’s favorite rooms in the castle, a space designed to inspire openness and collaboration. Its circular design fostered a sense of equality, and the glass-domed ceiling allowed natural light to spill across the polished marble table, its octagonal shape symbolizing balance. The room smelled faintly of parchment and lavender, traces of past meetings lingering like ghosts.

Edric led Zephyr to two chairs at the far side of the table, identical to the others in their simplicity. “We change seats frequently,” he explained as Zephyr settled in. “Since the councilrotates members on a monthly basis, the only constants are the royal family, Herbert, and the high priest or priestess.”

Zephyr nodded, smoothing a hand over the armrest of his chair. “Very fair,” he said, voice low. “Who are we to expect at this meeting? Anyone I should be cautious of?”

Before Edric could answer, Alec and Herbert arrived, their conversation cutting off as they entered. “Those two, perhaps,” Edric said, grinning as Zephyr’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

Herbert slid into a chair opposite them, adjusting his spectacles. “I am surprised to see you here before us,” he remarked, casting Edric a wry glance.

Zephyr turned to Herbert with an arched brow. “Is Edric not usually punctual? Perhaps I am a good influence on him.”

Alec chuckled, folding his arms. “You may wish to present a more united front when the others arrive.”

Edric feigned offense, waving a dismissive hand before his gaze dropped to the table. He noted how Zephyr carefully tucked his gloved hands into his lap, a subtle gesture that made Edric’s chest tighten. They had agreed to avoid unnecessary contact, worried that habitual touches might lead to a dangerous lapse in judgment. Still, Edric missed the weight of Zephyr’s hand against his, the quiet anchor it provided.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention to the door as the rest of the council trickled in. Familiar faces filled the room: Hadley, Missa, Cesar, Martin, Skye, and Eileen, joined by others Edric hadn’t seen in weeks — Tamara, Ash, and Elsie. A blend of youth and experience, optimism and pragmatism. A carefully curated balance.

Once everyone was seated, Edric rose and motioned for Zephyr to do the same. “Welcome,” he began, his voice steady despite the knot in his throat. “Thank you all for joining us on this first day of a new chapter in the history of Rafria.”He glanced at Zephyr and adjusted. “And in the history of Eskarven.”

Scanning the room, Edric read the council’s reactions like a map. Eileen beamed with pride, Cesar’s eyes glinted with curiosity, and Skye’s mouth twitched with mischief. But Tamara’s expression was carefully blank, and Martin wore a sneer that made Edric’s pulse spike.

He pressed on, voice unwavering. “As some of you may have heard, I spent my morning as usual, training with the soldiers and the guards. It can be hard to disrupt patterns we’ve set for ourselves over the years, and it will take time for us all to adjust to our new reality. But as leaders of our community, it is you we will need to guide the people through this time of uncertainty.”

Martin stood, every line of his body radiating barely-contained mistrust, his knuckles white against the polished marble of the council table. “Why did you feel the need to train still, if we are at peace?” he asked, not bothering to conceal the accusation in his voice. His words echoed in the chamber, bouncing off the glass dome above like a discordant note. “Do you not trust your new husband, and fear he might move against us?”

Edric started to reply, his posture stiffening, but Zephyr was faster. “Perhaps I simply wish my husband to remain in peak physical condition,” he said mildly, a hint of amusement in his voice, though his fingers curled tightly around the back of his chair.

Eileen and Elsie both let out quiet giggles, quickly muffled behind their hands, but not before Martin turned to glare at them. His eyes were sharp, a flash of resentment burning in their depths before he snapped his attention back to Zephyr.

“This is no laughing matter,” he hissed, his voice low but venomous.

“I am not laughing,” Zephyr replied, standing straight and tall, though Edric noticed the slight tremor in his grip. The tension in the room was palpable, a thread pulled taut and ready to snap. “As King Edric just said, it is difficult to adjust to a new pattern of life. Those who are accustomed to physical regimens will find it hard to abandon them easily, just as those accustomed to planning stealth attacks will find it hard to stop themselves from imagining new plans.” He let his gaze linger briefly on Alec, who acknowledged the words with a subtle dip of his head but remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Zephyr turned back to the council at large, voice steady and clear. “Perhaps those among us who represent the guards might have some ideas for how to shift their focus away from combative arts into something less martial but still challenging.”

Eileen immediately leaned forward, her eyes bright with excitement. “We ought to reintroduce the tournaments,” she suggested eagerly, her fingers tapping a quick rhythm against the tabletop.

Zephyr turned to Edric with a furrowed brow. “Tournaments?”

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