Chapter 22: The reason I stand

Third POV

Beta Emrich walked beside Hecate through the torchlit corridors, his boots echoing against the stone floor. The castle was settling into the quiet rhythm of evening, servants hurrying to finish their tasks before nightfall, guards shifting at their posts. The healer moved with an easy grace, her black velvet cloak whispering against the flags.

"I confess I expected the king to be more frightening," Hecate said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "The stories they tell about him, the monster who tears men apart with his bare hands. One expects horns and smoke."

Emrich laughed, a low respectful sound. "His reputation precedes him, but King Maddox is not the beast the bards sing about. Not entirely, at least." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "He has learned to control the curse better over the years. It still haunts him, but he no longer loses himself as he once did."

Hecate nodded thoughtfully, her dark eyes scanning the walls, the tapestries, the faces of the guards they passed. She seemed to be memorizing everything, cataloging the castle like a book she intended to read cover to cover.

"The king said I am to have whatever I require," she said. "Is that truly what he meant?"

Emrich inclined his head. "His word is law. If you need something, you need only ask."

"Then I have requests."

They had reached the doorway to her new chambers. Emrich pushed the heavy oak door open and stepped aside to let her enter. The room was spacious, larger than most nobles received, with a canopied bed draped in deep green velvet, a hearth already crackling with fire, and a writing desk by the window that overlooked the snowy courtyard.

Hecate walked to the center of the room and turned slowly, taking it all in. "It will do," she said, and there was something in her voice that sounded almost like relief.

"I am glad you approve," Emrich said. "What are your requests?"

She faced him, her hands folded before her. "I need a studio. A place where I can study and prepare my remedies. Somewhere with good light and space for my herbs and tools. I cannot work miracles from a bedroom, Beta Emrich."

He nodded. "There is an old apothecary tower in the east wing. It has been unused for years, but it can be cleared and prepared by morning."

"Excellent." A small smile played on her lips. "And I need access to the king's library. There are texts on rare ailments that I suspect will be useful for treating the queen. Her condition is unusual, as I am sure you have noticed."

Emrich made a mental note. "I will have the librarian grant you full access. Anything else?"

Hecate hesitated. Her fingers drifted to the pendant at her throat, a small black stone carved into the shape of a crescent moon. "An assistant. I cannot tend to the queen, run a studio, and research alone. I need someone who understands healing, someone with training. A maid can fetch water and change linens, but I need a healer's hands."

Emrich considered this. "The castle has several healers in residence. I can arrange for you to meet them tomorrow. You may choose one to assist you."

"Thank you, Beta. That is generous."

He bowed slightly. "The king was clear. You are to have whatever you need. If there is nothing else, I will leave you to rest."

Hecate turned to the window, her silhouette framed by the fading light. "One more thing," she said quietly. "The queen. How long has she been bedridden?"

Emrich's expression tightened. "Nearly two years now. She was never strong after the king's outburst, but she managed to walk with a cane for a while. Then her legs gave out entirely."

"And the king carries the guilt."

It was not a question. Emrich said nothing.

Hecate's reflection in the window glass was unreadable. "You may go, Beta. I have much to think about."

Emrich left her there and made his way down the winding stairs, across the great hall, and out into the courtyard. The snow had stopped falling, and the moon was rising, fat and silver, casting pale light across the frozen ground.

He found the king exactly where he had left him.

Maddox knelt beside a broken carriage wheel, his hands black with grease, his shirt torn at the shoulder. A cluster of tools lay scattered around him, wrenches and hammers and oil rags. He was so focused on his task that he did not look up when Emrich approached.

"You are the king," Emrich said, not for the first time. "You have servants for this."

Maddox grunted. "The servants have other duties. And I find the work calming." He set down a wrench and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a dark smear across his forehead. "Is the healer settled?"

"She is. She requested a studio, access to the library, and an assistant."

Maddox looked up then, his golden eyes catching the moonlight. "Give her all of it. Everything she asks for. If she cures Odette, she can have half the treasury."

Emrich nodded. "I will arrange for her to meet the castle healers tomorrow. She can choose someone to assist her."

"Good." Maddox returned his attention to the wheel, fitting a spoke into place with practiced hands. "The sooner Odette is well, the sooner I can breathe."

Emrich watched him for a moment. To anyone else, the king would appear devoted, a husband desperate to save his wife. But Emrich knew better. He saw the shadows beneath Maddox's eyes, the way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking, the hollow echo in his voice when he spoke of the future.

The king was not desperate to save Odette. He was desperate to be free of guilt. And those were two very different things.

"I will see to it personally," Emrich said. "Is there anything else?"

Maddox waved a hand in dismissal. "Go home to your family. You have done enough for today."

Emrich bowed and left the courtyard, crossing the inner bailey toward the west wing where his own chambers awaited. The moment he opened the door, a small blur launched itself at his legs.

"Daddy!"

He laughed and scooped his daughter into his arms, spinning her around until she shrieked with delight. Aileen was three years old, with her mother's dark hair and her father's serious grey eyes. She wrapped her small arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I missed you," she said solemnly.

"I missed you too, little star."

Ysabella stood in the doorway of the dining room, her hand resting on the frame, her smile soft and warm. She wore a simple gown of pale blue, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. The bruise that had once circled her neck had faded years ago, leaving no trace of the night Maddox had nearly killed her.

"You are late," she said, but there was no reproach in her voice.

"The king had a new healer to settle," Emrich said, crossing the room to kiss her forehead. "And you know how he is when he gets lost in his work."

Ysabella's smile faltered for just a moment. "The healer. Is she…?"

"I do not know yet," Emrich said quietly. "She seems capable. Intelligent. But there is something about her I cannot name."

Ysabella looked toward the window, toward the tower where the new healer had been installed. "Be careful, my love. This castle has a way of destroying the people who enter it."

Emrich pulled her close, Aileen still perched on his hip. "We are still standing, are we not?"

Ysabella leaned into him and closed her eyes. "Barely."

They went to dinner together, the three of them, around a small table lit by candles. Aileen chattered about her day, about the kitten she had found in the stables, about the snowman she had built with the stable boy. Ysabella laughed at her stories, and Emrich watched them both with a heart so full it ached.

This was his peace. His reason for surviving the darkness of the court. His family.

And he would do anything to protect them.