Marcus sits at one end of the long, polished counter, talking to two delegates I vaguely know—Lonan, a yellow-haired Byrn man who married a fellow delegate here last year, and Nessa, a Fiorden woman in a daring green gown. I listen in. Nessa is fretting about one of the Fiordens’ favorite gossip topics: Enetta, the beautiful but feckless princess of a Fiorden island country who is, unthinkably, late to the summit.
“It doesn’t matter when she arrives,” I jump in, taking the carafe to refill Nessa’s glass.
Marcus raises his eyebrows at me, and I smile back. Look. I can play the room too. You can trust me.
“Havenfall is always open to her,” I say to Nessa. “I look forward to meeting the princess whenever she gets here.”
I don’t fully understand the magic governing the doorways, but I know they’re more stable during the summer—every year on the solstice, all the Realms come into some sort of alignment. We have our longest day of the year; Byrn has a lunar eclipse of all three of their moons; Fiordenkill has a spectacular shower of shooting stars. Some thread runs through all the worlds on the solstice that allows large numbers of people to pass through the doorways. At other times, they’re less safe—people crossing through can cause strange charges in the air of Haven, or make the ground tremble.
Marcus and Willow carefully plan a schedule of departures from the inn at the end of the summit—the rulers of the Realms leave after two weeks, while the lesser ones stay longer, hashing out the details of the broad-strokes agreements made by their higher-ups. It’s not ideal that the princess is late, but one person passing through after the solstice isn’t enough of a risk to keep her away and squander the goodwill of the Fiorden delegation.
I wave a hand, as if to send the political topic away. “Lonan, where is your lovely bride this year?”
The Byrnisian man looks momentarily surprised to be addressed by me, but then he smiles, and his too-many teeth betray him as not being human. I wonder what he would look like in his home world. “She is with child,” he says, jovially, “and you know it’s not our way to travel in her present condition.”
“May the earth bear her up,” I say, remembering just in time that Lonan and his wife possess earth magic. I busy myself straightening the rows of goblets on the back counter, hoping to hear more about the wild princess, but Nessa throws a glance at Lonan and excuses herself. She shouldn’t have spoken ill about royalty in front of a Byrn delegate, I realize. But everyone trusts Marcus. Could I ever fill that role, hearing out the troubles of a world I will never see, soothing anxieties and balancing egos with a few well-chosen words?
Last summer, I studied Adjacent Realms politics from books I “borrowed” from Marcus’s study. So when the Elemental Orchestra kicks up a faster song and delegates fly from the bar to dance, I take the opportunity to lean across the marble toward my uncle. “Is this the year you’re finally going to let me sit in on council meetings?”
“Not yet. Maybe next year.”
His smile is thin, but I scarcely notice. Because just then someone appears on the stairs across the room.
Broad shoulders, copper penny hair, and features sharp as a knife.
Brekken.
I feel a smile spread across my face.
He looks different somehow. It takes me a moment to realize why, but then it hits me all at once. He’s dressed like a soldier, a cloak of fur fastened at his throat. His hair is combed back and tucked behind his jeweled ears—red for his family—and his tunic is embroidered with a pattern of leaves and swords. Brekken came of age this year and joined the High Court’s army. It was everything he’d been dreaming of since we were children.
And then, finally, he sees me. Brekken catches my eye as if our gazes have their own gravitational field. His face breaks into a broad smile as he waves. In an instant I forget all the formality. Almost without meaning to, I take a step toward the stairs.
“I need you for a moment longer, Maddie.”
Marcus’s voice snaps me out of the reverie. Brekken has to wait. Marcus and Havenfall are supposed to come first. I turn to see Marcus’s worried expression. His eyes follow my trajectory over to Brekken on the stairs. But in a flash, his smile returns.
“Can you go get a bottle of the Fiordenkill champagne from my office?” he asks.
Disappointment and impatience flare through me. “Of course. Just give me a minute.” I take a step away, but Marcus’s hand on my shoulder stops me.
“Brekken’s a soldier now, Maddie,” Marcus says, his voice low and serious.
“Okaaay.” I draw out the word. “So what? What are you getting at?”
“So he’s bound to the High Court.”
“All the more reason to go congratulate him.” There’s a beat of awkwardness. “Isn’t that the proper thing to do? I’ll get the bubbly after I say hello.”
My confusion must show on my face, because my uncle hurries to add, “Yes, but … just … don’t spend all your time together. You know how people talk.”
“No, I don’t know.” My voice comes out sharp and I can’t help it. “What will people say?”
And why should I care?
“We are the portal-keepers. We have to stay neutral, Maddie. No one can think we’re showing favoritism between the Realms. That is our job. Our responsibility. That is, if you want to run Havenfall one day.”
“Of course I want that,” I say, waspish. “You know that. More than anything.”
Anything except maybe Brekken.
What Marcus is saying makes sense, but he’s talking to me like I’m a kid, and it rankles me.
“You’re married to a Fiorden,” I point out.
“Graylin was never a soldier.”
I swallow, trying to stay calm even though it feels like the bottom of my stomach has dropped out. The horrible thing is that Marcus’s right; I know how careful he is to split his time evenly between Fiordens and Byrnisians. The whole point of Havenfall and the peace summit is to provide a neutral zone for the Adjacent Realms. Fiordenkill and Byrn are the only two left, making it more important than ever to sustain the peace.
But my stupid brain never connected that with Brekken. We can’t be together. And now my eyes are burning.
I clench my fist tight. I cannot, I will not, cry in front of Marcus and the delegates and everyone. I know Havenfall isn’t perfect, but it’s supposed to be mine, the summer refuge that makes up for the shitty rest of the year. Strange that a place with so many rigid rules, regulations, and protocols would have, all this time, felt to me like freedom.
“What we do here is dangerous, Maddie,” Marcus is saying. He smiles at me, gently, but his eyes are serious. “We need to be all things to everyone to maintain the balance. This place, what happens here, is important and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
Again.
He pauses, twirling his wineglass in his hands, then looks back up at me. And I know he’s trying to find the words for something he tells me every year, in his roundabout way.
This is our history. Our legacy. To be Innkeeper requires courage, diplomacy, and the will to carry out the greater good. Not everyone is cut out to do this work. It won’t be easy, but you’re strong.