Page 18 of The Reluctant Queen
A spray of stray water hit them. As Hevva raised a hand to shield the baby’s face from getting wet, a few droplets made their way down the tipof her nose. The children were excessively excited by the new development, requesting more water, more spray. They were hot and wanted to be splashed again.
King Hethtar leaned over suddenly, and before Hevva could recoil in confusion he’d thrust out a finger and brushed away droplets from her face. It seemed there’d been more than one. The drop on her nose she’d known about; the one on her bottom lip was a surprise.
The young watercoursers eyed the king, awaiting his approval before they acted out of line.
“Yes. But let’s move away from the blanket, and the sleeping babe.”
The four other H-children celebrated before dashing off across the field. The middle daughter, Hala, backtracked to grab the king’s hand and drag him along.
“Fine, fine, I’m coming.” He rolled up his sleeves, first one and then the other as he joined the kids in the grass. “One second,” the king called out, before doubling back to deposit his boots and socks near Hevva and the littlest H. Just like that, he was dressed exactly as she’d found him in the solar not so long ago.
She smiled up at him, squinting into the afternoon sun.
“Lady Hevva, I should have asked. Would you like me to stay with the babe while you play with the children?”
“Oh no, I quite enjoy her company the most.”
“Even over mine?” The teasing was unexpected.
She peeked at the sleeping child to hide her rising blush. “Mm, debatable.”
He rumbled.
She rather liked when he did that.
The king returned to the field. It wasn’t long before he’d swung Hesham up onto his shoulders again, as his watercourser staff members exhausted their day’s magic supply, squirting sprays and streams all over the place at varying intervals for the children...and the king...to run through. Hevva didn’t think she’d ever laughed so much in her life as she watched the uninhibited exuberance unfold.
Eventually, when little Hesham also seemed ready for a nap like hisbaby sister, the king suggested they move back inside. He waved off the kitchen watercourser who offered to take the sleepy toddler.
“You four, take the afternoon off. Thank you for going above and beyond in your duties today. Go, recuperate, head into town, whatever.” He waved them off, but not unkindly. “I’ll send word to your stations, so you’re not thought delinquent.”
With that, the staff members dropped into low curtsies and bows before taking off in a variety of directions. She didn’t miss the way the stable boy firebearer and a young watercourser maid headed the same way, the backs of their hands brushing against one another now and again each time their arms swung a little too close.
She let the king and other children amble ahead, falling back with Haifa snuggled up against her shoulder. King Hethtar walked with the children, his boots hanging from one hand. Their group jostled and bumped into one another, laughing at something one of the little girls said. A booming laugh rippled over to Hevva, bringing a smile to her face.
Looking over his shoulder, the king caught her mid-grin.
She shook her head and held his gaze.
Strange, half-formed thoughts swirled about her head. All she could coherently think was he didn’t look very much like a king at all. In fact, he was very handsome. She could admit that, wouldhappily admit that, freely. Ehmet Hethtar was a very good looking and surprisingly delightful sort of man.
Too bad he has a title...and the worst one to boot.
eight
Ehmet considers his duty.
King Hethtar stood onthe balcony of his study, gazing at the bustling town of Rohilavol below. The golden glow of the setting sun painted the Institute’s buildings and apartment blocks, the homes of his people, in shades of yolky yellow. The official portion of the symposium’s daily schedule would be drawing to a close soon, and the thousands of visiting citizens would be heading back to their lodgings for a bite to eat, or out into the streets to sample all that the vibrant town had to offer.
Festivities echoed up from the city, tugging at a sense of longing deep within his chest. This was meant to be a time of joy and celebration. Yet, the responsibilities of kingship weighed on him, especially after the night before...and the day he’d had. Ehmet longed to be young again, merely the Duke of Rohilavol, a student at the Institute when the sun was up, partying with titled and common friends alike by the light of the moon. Those days were long gone.
Exhaling a heavy breath of air, he swirled the glass.Empty.
Ehmet turned back to his study. The rich aroma of whiskey tickled his nose as he poured himself a generous finger. His work and the weight of his crown begged for it. He hadn’t gotten all that much done that day, to be honest. But Ehmet wasn’t about to admit that to anyone, let alone the woman who kept harping on him for “lying about.” The morning had been productive, arranging workers to repair and rebuild the Elk & Heron.But then he’d fallen asleep in the solarium sometime before midday, and the afternoon had been a bust.Not a bust.He’d spent time with the children, as was the plan. And he’d spent time with Lady Hevva Tilevir, a rather lovely turn of events.
Returning outdoors with his glass in hand, Ehmet ruffled his wavy hair. Parosh needed to give him a trim soon, it was getting unruly. His manservant never minded handling the menial task since Ehmet did, after all, shirk most of the common supports the position traditionally entailed. The king liked to do things himself: shaving his own face, dressing himself, scrubbing his own balls. Every now and again he needed someone to give him a hand with his hairdo. That’s when he called on Parosh.
With a sigh and a sip, Ehmet watched the streetlights flicker to life down below, firebearers making their nightly rounds to light the lamps. From this distance his people looked like ants. He wondered when his guests would retreat to the hall for bed.
