"Oh, that reminds me," Korena replied, and reached into the pouch at her waist. "Your official ring, so you already have it whenever we announce it, or should there be an emergency so dire that confessing our engagement will help resolve the situation. Also a ring for Sir Cimar, who more than earned it by rising to the challenge."
Davrin took them as she held them out. One was an Order of the Osprey ring, Cimar's name carved inside. The other was a large, handsome, and heavy piece that dwarfed and dulled every other ring in his collection, and he had many, an assortment of official rings, heirlooms, and gifts.
This one was gold, set with a large square cut emerald framed by smaller diamonds and emeralds in an alternating pattern. The band was wide, completely covering his finger up to the first knuckle, and inside was carved the royal motto: we will always rise, no matter how hard we might fall.
It also tingled with old magic; likely once he put the ring on, there would be no taking it off his finger until death—or far nastier magic came along. He tucked them away in his own pouch. "I will pass it on when he arrives home tonight, and I vow I'll not betray your trust in me."
"If I suspected you would even consider it, I would have not given you that ring. It's been spelled to you already, so if another steals it and tries to wear it, they will sorely regret it—if they live."
"That is powerful magic." Especially given magic simply didn't show up often. The history books said it had once been far more prevalent, and shifting alongside it, but a bad combination of war, plague, and famine had wiped out entire swaths of the world, and those with magic or shifter blood had suffered the greatest losses. "I didn't know anyone in the castle was capable of that."
Korena winked. "Stay long enough, and you'll find out who."
Davrin laughed.
They all turned as a knock came at the far outer door, the visitor pounding so hard it probably echoed down the entire wing.
"That doesn't sound good," Aliara replied. She gathered her skirts and hastened off, and returned a moment later, her face gone ashen. "Korena, you must come at once. It's about your father."
"Shit," Korena said, sharp and succinct. "Davrin—"
"I'll remain in here, and when there is a moment to slip away discreetly, I shall do so."
Korena nodded and departed, Aliara at her side.
Davrin moved to the mostly closed door, well out of sight of roaming eyes but close enough he could hear what was happening, should it be something that required quick action.
The man who'd come to see them, one of King Rorlen's personal attendants, spoke in low tones, but he wasn't experienced enough at it somehow to keep the castle walls from carrying them.
His Majesty had thrown a serious fit just minutes ago, behaving like some wild animal, throwing things around the room, wounding several people in the process. All of them servants, but no matter how discreet they all swore they would be, one of them would eventually run their mouth—for the thrill, from booze, or for good old-fashioned bribery.
Korena dismissed the attendant, and Aliara closed the door behind him, leaning against it and sharing a look of stark exhaustion and fear with Korena.
Davrin opened the library door and stepped out into the main room. "I'm guessing this is far more than a normal tantrum."
"Yes," Korena said, turning. "It's one of the signs of the madness, but it wasn't supposed to manifest for weeks yet, even months. Barley, the attendant, said the healer suspects it may have simply been a bad reaction to one of the medications they're trying, but he won't know for certain for a couple of days. But if the worst possible scenario has come to pass, and my father is already progressing deeply into madness…"
He wouldn't be fit to rule, fit to continue overseeing the challenge, and Korena couldn't do it in his place now they were engaged—and she couldn't break the engagement without opening the way for countless others, like Lord Tekker, who'd had King Rorlen's support for years and all the power and back alley methods he needed to secure enough support to literally force Korena's hand.
No one could force a crown princess, a queen, to say yes. But they could make the cost of her 'no' devastating.
"If we must call off the challenge, then so be it," Davrin said, even as his heart broke to surrender his one and only chance to obtain justice for Ballior. "The kingdom is more important than the honor of a dead man, and if we marry now, as I suspect you're plotting, then there won't be much Tekker can really do in the end."
"We have time yet, if precious little," Korena said. "My father's healer said he needed a couple of days. In the meantime, they are making every effort to spread that the medicine is the cause for his temper, and it was for something harmless." She sighed. "In the meantime, I will prepare everything should we have to marry in haste. Keep that ring on you at all times, Lord Dweller-by-the-Sea. You bear it, you are hereby authorized to act on behalf of the royal throne. Your word is my word."
"Witnessed," Lady Aliara said softly. "Come, I'll escort you back to your chambers."
They received curious looks as they walked, but it was neither strange nor suspicious that the best diplomat in the castle would be speaking with Her Highness, so any rumors people tried to stir up wouldn't last very long—especially when King Rorlen was currently far more interesting to gossip about by far. By this point, they probably didn't even remember Cimar would be returning soon with a lindworm skin.
Back in his room, he sat at his writing desk and focused on the never-ending pile of correspondence. The worst was that this was simply the stuff that couldn't be handled by his assistant. Otherwise, Davrin would likely spend the whole of his life right there, sending reply after reply after reply. People thought diplomacy was all fancy dinners and quiet, bitterly polite fights around large tables, and while those things certainly occurred, much of diplomacy was sending hundreds of carefully worded letters full of promises, threats, offers, giving or accepting favors, and being the go-between for all of the same. By the time any of them actually met in person, it was mostly to officially sign off—or unofficially sign off—on everything already agreed to.
He was more than a bit intimidated by how much more complicated this would all get when he was prince consort. The ring in his pouch weighed next to nothing, yet felt like he was carrying around a boulder.
When his brain simply could not handle a single word more, he put everything away, locked the desk, and went to read something relaxing instead. His meagre collection of books had been obtained slowly and carefully over the years, too costly and difficult to travel with for him to purchase lightly.
Thinking of books brought to mind Korena's impressive private library, though he would likely be too busy to avail himself of it often.
He looked around his chambers, where he'd lived for years, decades, off and on between his journeys abroad. The room was always here, awaiting his return, the servants ensuring that it was dusted and freshened, always bright and pleasant upon his arrival. Who would it go to when the room was no longer his? There'd be a whole list of people waiting for such an opportunity, and serious power play in the decision.
Perhaps—
The thought scattered as a pounding knock came at the door. Davrin strode over and yanked the door open, stared at the red-faced servant in the hall. "Yes?"