Have you read Royals Part Two - Sprout?
***
She propped her elbow on her desk, rubbing her throbbing forehead as she stared down at the latest plague report from the north. Soft music wafted through the open garden door from somewhere in the castle. She’d made it back just in time to inspect the army which had marched out this morning. Now she found herself with a stack of papers from Fyf on her desk. Were the plague numbers stabilising? The ink blurred on the page, figures mixing themselves up in her head. She really needed to concentrate but all she could think about was the empty couch in the tent.
She sighed. Maybe Florian was right, maybe she should share the burden of running the country with him. But she’d promised her dad she’d keep their people safe. She would. Not anyone else. Either way she needed to apologise to Florian. She could organise a nice dinner, just the two of them. She could apologise and possibly ask him to join the Council. Lord knew it had been ages since they’d had dinner together. She swept over to ring the house bell for Sofia, pausing as a coughing fit shook her. Rubbing her chest, she grimaced before ringing the bell and returning to her desk.
Sofia appeared at the door a moment later. “You rang?” Sofia smiled. As she came closer her smile faltered. “Dee…”
“It’s n-,” another coughing fit shook her. Sofia’s eyes widened but Dahlia waved her off with the hand that wasn’t covering her mouth. “It’s nothing,” she whispered as the coughing subsided. She sipped her tea, closing her eyes as the hot liquid temporarily soothed her parched throat.
When she opened her eyes Sofia’s brows were knitted together in concern. “You should go to bed. I’ll get Healer Ivy.”
“No. I can’t. I’ve got to…” Dahlia waved a hand toward the stack of papers.
Sofia’s mouth was pressed in a firm line, but she stayed silent.
“I need a break though, come walk in the garden with me,” Dahlia said, gesturing to the brightly coloured flowers through the open door at the other end of the room.
Yawning, she wandered into the garden. The sun was warm on her skin, the air carried the scent of roses. She loved her garden. White stone pavers circled around a small fountain which tinkled and glittered in the sunlight. The flower beds were overflowing with every shape and colour of rose she’d ever come across. Her eyes wandered to the newest corner of her garden. She smiled to herself. Florian had helped her plan it when he’d bought new rose varieties from Sinali when he was courting her.
“I need you to organise a dinner,” she said to Sofia.
“For Florian?” Sofia said slyly.
Dahlia rolled her eyes but smiled. “You know everything. Yes, for Florian.”
Sofia paused in thought. “How about a candle lit dinner under the willow by the lake. Potato cakes to start, smoked pork and broad beans for the main, and plum tart for dessert?”
Dahlia laughed. “How do you know all Florian’s favourite foods?”
“I’ve got you, leave it all to me,” Sofia said, touching Dahlia’s arm lightly.
Dahlia stopped to smell her favourite rose. It was called Boscobel, a salmon-pink rose imported from an island to the west. She closed her eyes as she breathed in the myrrh and pear fragrance.
“Dee, is this because Florian didn’t come back from the south with you?” Sofia asked softly.
Dahlia’s eyes shot open. Slowly she stood upright, her stomach clenching. She rubbed her forehead and grimaced at Sofia. “I- I screwed up.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sofia promoted.
Dahlia dropped her hand from her face and started walking again. “No. Yes.” She sighed. “I don’t know. He really wants to help…”
Sofia watched her.
“I was thinking of asking him to be on the Council. I’m not sure how it will go down with the others though. He’s not exactly the best diplomat,” Dahlia said. “Don’t tell him I said that,” she added guiltily.
“You know I wouldn’t,” Sofia smiled. “He may not be the best diplomat, but he was raised as a prince of Sinali and he’s an effective commander.”
Dahlia considered.
“He wants to help you. Hell, everyone wants to help you, but no one can unless you let them,” Sofia said softly.
Dahlia’s chest tightened as she lifted her eyes to Sofia’s. Maybe she was right. Sofia must have read something in her eyes because she gave her a small smile before linking their arms and continuing around the garden, dresses swirling and slippers slapping on the stone path.
“I’ll send a scout to retrieve Florian from the south,” Sofia said.
Dahlia smiled. “Thanks Sof. You’re the only one who doesn’t question me.”
Sofia squeezed her arm. “Of course not, I’ve always got your back,” Sofia smiled. “Being questioned isn’t a bad thing. Running a kingdom is hard, and although Fyf is an asshole, I would say he’s got your best intentions at heart. Challenging you might be his way of making sure you’ve thought things through.”
Dahlia opened her mouth to reply but another coughing fit racked her body. Sofia gently guided her to a bench. As the coughing subsided again Dahlia leant back against the stone wall. Maybe Sof was right again. Maybe the questions were to help her, not bring her down.
Shit, maybe she had no idea what she was doing trying to run the kingdom. At the moment it seemed like everything she thought was wrong.
She winced as her head gave a particularly painful throb. Closing her eyes, she focused on the warmth of the wall seeping into her. She took deep breaths, feeling the rhythm of the warm air rushing in her nostrils, rushing out over her lips. Steady. Peaceful. Warm.
***
She jolted awake, immediately regretting it as her head felt like it was about to split in two. A gasp tore from her at the pain, ripping her dry throat. She immediately started coughing, her head throbbing in time with each cough. The sheets tangled around her were soaked with sweat.
“Ah, you’re awake Your Majesty,” came a croak from her bedside.
Squinting against the brightness she looked around the room. How’d she get to her bed chamber? Blinking, she found a hunched figure sat next to her bed, withered, bent, and draped in a simple brown cape.
“Healer Ivy?” Dahlia rasped. Healer Ivy had been tending to Dahlia since she was born.
“Hush child, drink this,” the old lady said, pushing a steaming cup of honey, lemon and something Dahlia couldn’t put her finger on into her hands. The warm liquid soothed her throat. “You’ve overworked yourself into a fever silly girl. You’re on bed rest for at least a week.”
“A week! Ivy, I can’t be off for that long.”
“Tough cookies,” Ivy said, shuffling over to a table covered in dried herbs and set to work with a mortar and pestle.
Dahlia huffed but knew better than to argue with the old woman. Dahlia was stubborn but Ivy was stubborn on a whole new level. She took another sip from her steaming cup instead.
The door opened. “Dee!” Sofia spoke to someone on the other side of the door before closing in softly behind her. “Thank goodness. Are you ok?”
“What happened?” Dahlia asked.
“You fell asleep in the garden, I couldn’t wake you. You’ve been out for a day and a half,” Sofia said, pulling another chair up to her bed with a scrape.
Panic flared through Dahlia. “A day and a half!”
“Don’t worry,” Sofia cut in. “Chancellor Petra and Lord Fyf have kept everything under control. I sent a page to get them.”
Dahlia glanced at Ivy.
“You can have one quick meeting, then that’s it,” Ivy said sharply without looking up from her work.
Sofia smothered a laugh. She’d always loved the chaos that ensued when Dahlia and Ivy went head-to-head.
Dahlia glared at her, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror over Sofia’s shoulder. Her hair was dull and plastered to her head with sweat, her skin pale and shiny, and she had dark circles under her eyes. “I can’t see them like this,” she cringed.
“Of course not.” Sofia whirled off to the dressing room, emerging with an armful of fresh sheets and a lavender nightgown. “Ivy, could you help Dahlia wash and change while I sort the bed?”
With Sofia in control, the three of them made quick work of the change. By the time the guards announced the arrival of Petra and Fyf, Dahlia looked a lot better than she felt. Ivy quickly slipped her a tonic to soothe her headache before they entered, Sofia moving to help Ivy at the herb-strewn table.
“Your Majesty, I am glad to see you’re awake,” Petra said with a bow.
Fyf followed Petra, bowing awkwardly due to the huge stack of papers he held. Dahlia suppressed a wince at the sight of them.
“Please, take a seat,” Dahlia said, gesturing to Ivy and Sofia’s vacant chairs.
“How are you feeling?” Petra asked, as she sat, pointed toes barely scraping the floor.
Dahlia coughed to clear her throat, her head giving a muted throb. “I’ve been better.”
Petra gave her a half frown before grabbing some papers from the top of Fyf’s stack. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know we’ve established an iron-clad plan for the extraction of the soldiers from the north. They will march half a day east to North Ridge Castle where the servants have been briefed in isolation protocol…”
Was there a bee in the room? Or was it the droning of Petra’s voice making that buzzing sound? Petra’s voice. Crap, she was meant to be concentrating on what she was saying.
“…food supplies have been reviewed and they will have enough for the duration of the isolation which will be…”
God the air was drying out her throat. She took another sip of the lemon honey drink. She suppressed a yawn as she set the teacup back on the side table. She watched as Petra grabbed another few papers off the top of Fyf’s pile. As she looked up Fyf caught her eye, giving her a hard look. Shit, he knew she wasn’t listening.
“…town halls have been repaired to a habitable state and are now operating as temporary shelters for the sick and injured…”
Fuck, when had Petra moved on to talking about the flood? It was too much. She couldn’t do this. Her chest lightened with the realisation. “Petra,” she rasped, cutting across Petra’s monologue.
“Your Majesty?”
She glanced at Fyf who’s hard look had turned assessing. Sofia was right, no one could help unless she let them.
“I’m too unwell for this,” Dahlia said, gesturing vaguely to the stack in Fyf’s lap. “Healer Ivy is putting me on bed rest for at least a week.”
“A week!” Petra gasped. “But- but we can’t just stop running the kingdom for a week. Do you have any idea how much paperwork there will be? This pile is from only the last day and a half. A weeks’ worth would be huge!”
Dahlia suppressed a sigh. “I am aware of the implications, Petra. That is why I am giving yourself and Lord Fyf executive powers. You will run the kingdom in my absence.”
Petra’s eyes widened, but she finally stopped talking. Dahlia turned her gaze to Fyf, bracing herself for the look of disapproval. However, the corners of Fyf’s mouth twitched upwards, his eye crinkling ever so slightly.
“Are you sure?” Fyf asked.
She was mildly surprised to find that her usual icy rage didn’t flood through her at Fyf’s questions. “I’m sure,” she said calmly. “However, you will send me a one-page report at the end of each day so I can stay up to date. I’ll leave the two of you in charge until Florian gets back from the south.”
Petra and Fyf shared a puzzled look.
“Florian isn’t in the south.”
***
Read Royals Part Four - Bloom now!