#harrowdale

It hadn’t been what he’d expected. Less helping people and more wrangling the powerful and greedy baron council that helped govern Harrowdale. But he hadn’t been alone. He’d had Maelys— his wife, daughter of one of the barons who worked alongside them. 

Maelys was smart. Not just normal smart, but the kind of smart that could pick apart motivations, and send the conniving barons into a confused spiral with a few words. She’d always helped Judah— who preferred to believe in the kinder nature of men— navigate the more treacherous waters of politics.

Everyone saw her cunning. Fewer saw her kindness, her gentler nature. But Judah did. And he counted himself lucky for it every day, to have fallen so hard for a woman he’d married out of duty.

They were happy. Them and their children, Alex and Sabrina.

And then his mother was gone. And, not three full months afterwards, so was Maelys.

He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Around the sight of his wife, lying crumpled where she’d fallen down a flight of stairs, blood streaming from her temple. No one was sure if it was an accident or not, and right now, Judah couldn’t even begin to think about that.

He hadn’t even really gotten to say goodbye. And now, all Judah really wanted was to fall apart. To weep until he could weep no more, to scream at whatever had taken the woman he loved from him.

But, as king, he had duties that extended beyond his own wishes and the pain twisting in his chest. As his father had often reminded him, “A crown is a heavy burden. And we cannot just set it aside when we want to. Instead, we must carry on.”

And so Judah carried on. He held his head high and ordered the organization of a funeral and accepted condolences that were really threats veiled in saccharine words, because he didn’t know what else to do without Maelys.

He, who was supposed to be an anchor for his people and his children, was adrift.

That didn’t mean he could give up, though. So he kept moving, afraid that he’d sink if he stopped. He forced himself to work with the funeral planner. Though everything in him wanted to scream for them to stop, there was no way this could be real, because surely Maelys was just around the corner. Surely she was still alive, waiting for him somewhere.

None of it felt real. But it was.

The day of the funeral came. It was a nice service, he was vaguely aware. His son, Alexander, stood at his right side, his face set and his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Sabrina clung to Judah’s side— his sweet daughter hadn’t spoken since they found Maelys, and wept silently through the proceedings.

He gave a eulogy. A speech had been prepared for him, but Judah didn’t read it. This was his last chance to say goodbye to his wife. Politics couldn’t come into it, not even if they should.

So he spoke of how when they’d met, it was an arranged marriage. Neither one of them had expected anything from it other than to do their duty, and Judah had accepted that. But then he’d met Maelys, and he’d known, almost immediately, that she was special. That she was brave and smart and kind, and she would make an amazing queen. An amazing wife.

He’d been lucky to have her as long as he did, and he said that, too, striving to keep the tears from leaving his eyes. It didn’t take away the pain of losing her, but it was still good to speak about her, with people in the crowd who knew her. Her brother, Lucas, had been there, and his children as well as Judah’s. After the service, Judah made certain to find him, first of all.

Lucas saw him coming, and moved to meet him. “I’m so sorry, Judah,” he said, his voice torn with the same pain Judah felt. It was almost enough to break the wall that Judah had been constructing over the past few days, trying hard to keep it together.

Apparently, it was obvious. Wordlessly, his brother-in-law stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. “She loved you so much,” he said, his voice muffled. “Never forget that.”

“I won’t,” Judah promised, gathering what strength he still possessed about him as Lucas stepped away. “And she loved you, too, Luc.”

Lucas nodded, grief clear in his eyes and his every move, and Judah reached out and grasped his arm. “If there’s anything you need—”

“I should be saying that to you,” Lucas said. “But I know. Same to you.”

There was a brief pause, and Judah took a quick breath. Time to be the king again, and the host. “How long are you staying?” he asked, but Lucas shook his head.

“We’ve already been away too long. The borders need watching— Alcea’s Coronation Tournament is approaching. And with a new ruler comes new problems. We have to be vigilant.”

He was right, though it hurt Judah to hear he was going already. He didn’t show it, though, just clapped a hand on his shoulder. “What would I do without my best general?”

“Very little,” Lucas said, his smile shadowed in sorrow. “I’ll see you soon, my king. Stay strong.”

“You, too.”

And then he was gone, just like that. Just like Maelys. And Judah was alone again, facing the crowds of politicians.

Well, not completely alone. He had his children, whom he would never take for granted. Alex stood by his side with all the seriousness a sixteen year old could muster, watching the guests who Judah spoke to with a skeptical and protective air. Sabrina stayed with them for a while, but she hated crowds, and the day had taken a lot out of her. Before long Judah sent his ten year old back up to her room with her governess.

It was odd how it affected him to have even one less ally. But without Maelys, it was becoming sharply apparent just how many of the barons he could consider genuine friends. The Council of Nine, who helped govern the country, were not among the friend group. Most of them barely counted as allies, although not all of them had even come.

Some of the lesser lords and ladies were less conniving, but there was a superficialness about them. Like the words and condolences they offered were naught but pretty lies. And the underlying disdain, the distaste at the emotion he was showing, weighed him down. It piled onto Judah’s shoulders and soured his stomach until his legs almost gave out beneath him.

“Are you alright?”

The man’s voice barely penetrated the haze Judah had succumbed to, nor did his firm grip on his hand. But Alex’s concerned voice did. “Father?”

Rousing himself, Judah looked first to his son, who was frowning at him, and then to the man who was next in line of the guests. He didn’t recognize him, which was a little odd. He’d lived in the palace all his life and did his level best to know by face, if not name, all the royals and the staff.

But this man was totally unfamiliar. He was dark haired and dressed in fine black clothing, and wore a mustache that he was obviously a little too proud of. He was also studying Judah keenly, like he could look straight through him.

“Forgive me,” Judah said, not hastily. It didn’t suit the king to rush. “I’m fine.”

“That seems rather unlikely.”

Judah’s eyebrows shot up, but the man didn’t seem at all perturbed by his own blunt manner. “I mean, who would be?” he said, casting a look at the royals milling around. “Dealing with such… lovely folk at a time like this. Personally, I’d want to pitch the lot out on their royal rears. But that’s just my indelicate opinion.”

Absurdly, Judah found himself almost wanting to laugh. Alex scowled at the man. “Who are you?” he demanded. “And how dare you speak to my father like that?”

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Judah said gently, “Alex, it’s okay.” Directing his gaze back to the man, he said, “I’m afraid I don’t recall your name, sir.”

“Most likely because we’ve never officially met,” the man said with a wry smile. “Alphaeus Black. My deepest condolences on your loss, Your Majesty. I… truly cannot begin to imagine how you are feeling right now.”

There was a note of raw honesty in his voice, which was smooth and held a lilting accent that came and went. “Thank you, Mr. Black,” Judah said, surprised to find he meant it. “I appreciate that.”

“I realize now is a difficult time,” Alphaeus Black continued, “and so I won’t trouble you more now. But when you have a moment, in the near future, I should very much like a word.”

And there it was. Back to the job— but his grief didn’t mean this man had to wait. “Of course,” Judah told him. “If you’ll reach out, I will happily arrange an audience.”

“Excellent. I appreciate it, Your Majesty.” Giving the two of them a quick bow, Alphaeus Black turned and strode away, soon lost in the crowd.

Glaring at his back, Alex muttered, “Opportunist scum.”

“For some people, a state funeral is the only time they have to reach out to their rulers,” Judah told him gently. “It might be poor timing for us, but for them it could also be the only timing.”

“He didn’t really seem like he was suffering, Father.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Casting another look after the man, Judah wondered what exactly it was that he’d wanted. I suppose I’ll find out eventually. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he had enough energy to care.

The rest of the day dragged by in a grayish blur, and by the end, Judah was too exhausted to remember Alphaeus Black. He was too tired to do anything but tip himself into his bed, which seemed far too big now, and sleep.

And so he began life without his queen. It was… hard. Harder than he’d expected. He’d come to rely on Maelys— her judgment, her cunning mind and ability to parse out and handle the low handed remarks and ploys the barons enacted. Judah was better at focusing on the people who needed help, not the ones who wanted to trample the lower ranks. Now he had to do both in a way he hadn’t really ever done before.

In Alcea, their neighboring country, all positions of power were handled by two— one man and one woman. Often the pair were married, but not always. They took the words in the First Books seriously, that man and woman were to work together in partnership. They would compliment each other, and make each other better.

Judah wasn’t Alcean. But he saw now, more than ever, the value of that tradition. Their country was less without Maelys’s cunning on the throne. He knew it, and worse of all, his barons knew it. The Council of Nine had never cared for his way of ruling, and had always worked to undermine him at all cost. Maelys, as a daughter of a former member of that council and a woman who was, frankly, far smarter than all of them, had combated them with ease, even in their increasing corruption.

And now that she was gone, they were free to act as they wished. And while Judah did his best to fight back against them, he didn’t have the subtlety of mind for it. He knew they were undermining him in the courts, that they were overruling his decisions and talking behind his back. But what could he do to fix it?

Without Maelys, he didn’t really know, and so the first months without her wore on and on. By the third month, he truly had no idea how he was going to do this.

It was after a particularly frustrating meeting with the Council that the answer started to present itself. He’d been working on an initiative to support the veterans of the wars with Alcea. But as Judah spoke with the Council about it, they one by one stepped forward and flattened it. It was too ambitious, they said, and far too naive— not that His Majesty was naive, of course. It was money they couldn’t afford to use elsewhere, and frankly, the veterans probably didn’t want their help. They might be insulted.

Judah knew what they were doing, knew they were lying. But whenever he faced them it was like he couldn’t speak fast enough to combat them. And the heavy cloud of grief that still hung over his shoulders didn’t help much.

So he tabled the discussion for the day, politely excused himself, and headed for his chambers. Sabrina was in her lessons, and Alex was at swordsmanship practice, so he would be alone. Which was what he wanted.

Or rather, it was what he wanted and knew he could have. What he really wanted was far out of reach.

Reaching his chambers, Judah stepped inside and closed the door gently behind him. He let out a long breath, dropping against the door, and closed his eyes. Then he plucked the crown from his head and threw it across the room with all the force he could muster.

It hit the wall with a ringing clatter. It wouldn’t dent, of course. The kings of Harrowdale wore bronze crowns, far sturdier than the gold ones of Alcea. But a thread of guilt did go through Judah at the action. He should be more responsible, he couldn’t go around throwing temper tantrums, he—

“You looked like you needed that.”

Judah’s eyes snapped open at the voice. Bewildered, he turned to see a man sitting at the table where he usually had tea with his family. The table was set with tea and a tray of cakes, and Alphaeus Black was calmly watching him from the chair Alex usually sat in.

“Maybe,” Judah agreed slowly. “Why are you in my room?”

Nodding, Alphaeus said, “Direct. I admire that about you, Your Majesty. I’m here for our meeting.”

“I wasn’t aware we’d scheduled one.” Now that he thought about it, Judah hadn’t heard a thing from the man after Maelys’s funeral. He’d assumed— well, truth be told, he hadn’t really thought about it, what with everything else.

“Oh, I did, Approximately two weeks after we first met. But then you were busy, and then you had to postpone, and then it was an important meeting, and then it was made very clear to me that His Majesty didn’t speak to just any vagabonds coming in from the street. Even well dressed ones.”

Judah snorted. Alphaeus was, indeed, dressed in an immaculately tailored suit— black, with gold highlighting. Then he frowned. “Wait. I heard nothing about any of these meetings.”

“Oh, no, you weren’t to be bothered,” Alphaeus said conversationally. “One of your charming Council members handled it. A rather reddish-faced fellow by the name of Calrick, I believe.”

Calrick. Of course. He was one of the worst of the lot— smooth tongued, with an amazing talent for making you feel like an idiot for just speaking your mind. Maelys had always enjoyed taking him down a peg or two. Pressing his eyes shut, Judah sighed. “Well, Mr. Black, I do apologize. Baron Calrick is simply… overly concerned for the crown’s time.”

“Overly concerned for his wallet’s more like it,” Alphaeus remarked, sounding amused. “In any case, I thought it best to arrange a meeting on my own terms. Tea? You look like you’ve been hit by a train.”

Now that he mentioned it, Judah did rather feel that way. Leaving his crown where it lay, he moved over to his usual seat, dropping down across from Alphaeus. “Mr. Black, I’m going to be very honest.”

“Call me Alphaeus, and I would prefer that,” he said, serenely pouring a cup of tea for himself, then one for Judah.

“I know you’re probably in need, but I don’t know that I can help you,” Judah said, hating himself for the words. Hating that he had to turn away someone in need when that was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do.

“Oh, I don’t need anything.”

Judah blinked at him, startled. “You… what?”

“Well, I suppose I’m asking for one thing,” Alphaeus mused. “But I’m mostly not here to ask anything of you. Sugar?”

“Just a little cream, please.” Judah watched rather dazedly as Alphaeus poured a rich ribbon of cream into the cup, then passed it to him. Accepting it, he said, “Then what do you want?”

“To ask you that exact question,” Alphaeus said, adding a few spoonfuls of sugar to his tea, then taking a sip. Setting it down, he met Judah’s gaze evenly. “And then to execute said request as smoothly as possible.”

Slowly, Judah took a drink from his tea. It was good— warm and rich. One of his favorite kinds, and he wondered if Alphaeus had known somehow, or if the kitchen had sent it up. “You’re going to have to expand on that a little more.”

“Gladly. May I speak with utter honesty?”

“That seems wise.”

“Good. Your Majesty, your kingdom is shambles. Your barons are corrupt, and your Council is slowly claiming as much of the kingdom as they can manage. They’re spreading the rumors that your wife’s death broke you, that you are no longer fit to rule.”

Judah would have laughed if it hadn’t been so very not funny. Looking down at his tea, he said softly, “I don’t know how much of that is rumor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Judah looked up sharply. Alphaeus’s expression was dead serious as he said, “Your Majesty, you’ve clearly had an awful day. Yet, upon finding a stranger in your quarters, instead of throwing him out on his tail like he deserved, you sat down to see how you could help him. You are fit to rule. You’re the best king this country has ever had. Therefore, since we have a Council full of morons, they’re trying to destroy everything you're working for.”

This time, Judah did laugh. Rubbing at his forehead, he said, “You make a compelling case, Alphaeus. Alright, continue.”

“Thank you.” Pausing for a sip of tea, Alphaeus said, “Your only real problem— well, you’ve got a few. But the first one I’m here to solve is the fact that you’re simply too nice.”

“Too nice? I’ve fought in wars, Alphaeus.”

“And here you are, having tea with an intruder.”

“Point taken,” Judah said wryly.

“Thank you. Now, your wife was an impressive woman in many aspects. And while I am sure she was kind, she was also formidably cunning, and had a better grasp of court politics than you do. Am I incorrect in any aspects so far?”

Shaking his head, Judah said, “Other than the fact she was far better at the political side of things… you’re about spot on. Now, please don’t tell me you’re about to suggest that I marry again.”

Arching an eyebrow at him, Alphaeus said, “I am many things, Your Majesty, but an idiot is very rarely one of them. Of course not. I was actually thinking of an advisor of some sort. Or, barring any kind of authority, just someone you come to when you need things fixed.”

“Which would be you,” Judah said slowly.

“Well, I am adept at fixing things.” Pausing, Alphaeus’s expression grew serious. “I know this looks like a grab for power. Trying to manipulate the grieving man into giving me his ear.”

“It could be seen that way,” Judah agreed. “But I have a feeling there’s a but in here somewhere.”

Alphaeus nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.” A hint of that raw honesty from the first day they met entered his voice as he spoke. “You’re a good man, King Judah. Anyone with eyes in their head can see that. You deserve the chance to be that with a throne, to help people who need it. People who’ve run out of chances, only to be granted one more. People who are lost. My only goal here is to serve you, and help you do that. Be it from behind the scenes or at your side.”

Judah stared at the man. Despite his appearance, despite the manner in which he’d appeared… he believed him. There was nothing but truth in his voice. “Why do you want to do this?” he asked.

There was a brief pause, as Alphaeus seemed to consider. “I’m repaying a debt,” he said eventually, his voice low and somber. And Judah knew it was the truth.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s say I give you a job. What exactly do you intend to do with it?”

Alphaeus shrugged, the easy demeanor returning in a flash. “Oh, a few things. Begin a long game to preserve your heirs, eradicate corruption from the Council of the Nine, and overall return your country to you.”

“Oh, just that?” Judah said, lifting an eyebrow at him. “That doesn’t seem at all ambitious to you?”

“Very ambitious,” Alphaeus agreed. “But, Your Majesty, go big or go home.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Judah said.

“Excellent. Step one is to gain the trust of your Council, and then we’ll see where we go from there. If I can convince them I’m on their side, that will open quite a few windows.”

A thought hit Judah, and he smiled. “Certainly— but a mere advisor won’t gain their attention. You’ll need a unique title. Something that implies that I trust you above all others, making me easily manipulated by you.”

“You catch on quick,” Alphaeus said approvingly. “What did you have in mind?”

The very next day, Alphaeus Black was appointed Royal Vizier to the court. King Judah gave a public speech announcing his trust in the man, that he was wise and would assist their country greatly. Alphaeus stood at his side, looking dashingly evil in black embroidered robes and a black cane set with red jewels.

The barons watched with undisguised curiosity and suspicion. Little did they know that every word Judah spoke in his speech was true. Perhaps he trusted too easily. But Maelys had loved that about him, and Judah couldn’t change who he was. It was good to have an ally, however strange and mysterious he might be.