Page 3 of Severe Husband Warning

I have served him long enough to understand the distinction.

The parchment crinkles in my grip. This is the third such reminder in as many months.

My gaze settles on the city below.

Ti’lith spreads across the crimson earth in concentric rings, each district climbing toward the oldest spires at its heart. Smoke rises from the forges where storm-metal is worked beneath carefully harnessed lightning, while farther below, narrow streets disappear beneath drifting veils of red dust carried by the evening wind. Every tower, every bridge, every conduit feeding lightning into the city exists because generations before mine understood that survival demanded order before ambition.

It is a lesson many noble houses have forgotten.

Malakor among them.

He cloaks every conversation in concern for the realm, every suggestion in courtesy, every invitation in friendship. Yet each arrives carrying the same destination, however winding the road chosen to reach it.

An alliance.

The word has become tiresome.

Alliances have preserved kingdoms long before my House first raised its spire. Malakor simply believes persistence can accomplish what persuasion has failed to secure.

Malakor has spent the better part of a season presenting himself as the court’s most agreeable voice. Judging by the King’s latest reminder, he has found opportunities to make himself heard where it matters most, this time in the pretense of a marriage proposal.

I fold the King’s letter and set it aside. Whatever answer he expects from me will remain the same tomorrow as it is today. Meanwhile, reports from the eastern lightning conduits, merchant disputes, and petitions awaiting my seal concern matters that refuse to wait.

Work has always possessed the virtue of clarity. Problems present themselves, and solutions follow. Duty rarely leaves room for uncertainty.

I turn my thoughts toward the work awaiting me inside, only for an altogether different memory to intervene with quiet persistence.

The musician from Malakor’s gathering.

Most performers chase approval. They linger after the final note searching the faces before them, hoping admiration will weigh as heavily as the purse waiting at the evening’s end.

She had done neither.

What returns to me instead is the straightness of her spine as she sat before the assembled court, untouched by the shifting conversations around her. Her hands moved across the lute with deliberate certainty, giving the instrument the sort of attention one reserves for the only thing in a room deserving it.

Her attention remained fixed upon the instrument resting across her lap until the last vibration faded beneath her fingertips, as though completing the piece correctly mattered more than whether anyone had bothered to listen. When the steward delivered an insult disguised as payment, disappointment crossed her face so briefly that most would have overlooked it entirely.

She concealed the disappointment almost before it appeared. Many would mistake that for submission.

I did not.

I had watched her wrap the lute before counting the coins. The order of those actions stays with me more than the music itself.

Most people protect what earns them a living. She protected what allowed her to remain herself.

None of it alters the conclusion I should have reached the moment I left Malakor’s hall. A human musician has no place occupying my thoughts while the King’s court grows more restless by the month.

I set the memory aside with the same discipline expected of everyone serving beneath my command. There are more pressing matters deserving my attention.

The doors behind me open with quiet restraint. The measured footsteps crossing the stone leave little doubt as to who approaches. Vhoros has never seen value in announcing himself when discipline alone serves the purpose.

“My lord.”

I turn.

Vhoros nods his head, one gauntleted fist resting briefly against his breastplate before dropping once more to his side. His armor bears the faint scoring of recent patrols along the eastern ridges, though he carries himself with the same rigid discipline he has maintained since entering my service over a century ago.

Competence reveals itself before a single word is spoken.