There was always a sense of loneliness when it came to working—facing sheets of paper with words upon words, like conversations that could take hours crammed into a single page. But the language was more jargon than Huish, laws and stipulations, codes, and terms Ranun hadn’t the training to comprehend. Ranun had to read them all, listen to every word as he went over the countless pages.

Words, once you take enough of them in, they start to become invisible. Ranun felt like he was reading, but seconds after, he lost track of what he had actually read. So he went back a few passages and realized he was reading without processing for several minutes now.

Ranun collapsed, his head dropping on his table in boredom. Papers from the top of their piles jumped and flew, swinging and gliding back to hit the side of his desk.

I want a break, Ranun thought. But what would he do? He couldn’t exactly go anywhere or do anything. The work he had—even without all of the forms he’d delegated to a few assistants—ate up most of his priorities. In front of him were the more critical sections of his work, forms that settled disputes between the law and the people. He was a high-level judge; only he had to check the work of the actual judges and make sure they didn’t wrongfully sentence a man hung for a petty crime.

Ranun couldn’t even count on his fingers the times a judge was clearly paid off to either lighten or intensify a punishment. High-nobility murderers would get three weeks of community service while a janitor stealing a stapler off of a man’s desk got three years in prison.

Fortunately, Ranun and his staff had the final verdict on all crimes. Fortunately, it all funneled through his assistants, who separated the junk cases thrown out due to lack of evidence or the evidence was so great it justified the verdict. Of course, not everything was crystal clear, and as a result, Ranun had many cases on all sides of the spectrum, from the absurd to rational.

The closer a case got to rationality, the harder it was to counter a judge’s decision, no matter if it leaned toward lenient or strict.

Then Ranun had to pass laws, which he hated even more than the cases. Although they didn’t heavily impact the life of a single person like the verdicts, they affected everybody in the kingdom. Though laws were often subtle, and most people didn’t get hanged over them.

He’d passed the tax bill, and already the noblemen were complaining. Since they harnessed the most gold, they paid the most gold. They were the machine that funded the kingdom, but that machine hated its contribution to a better society. They were often selfish, and that was precisely what made them as much gold as it did.

Soucrest asked a lot of the noblemen. Ranun had made sure they treated their workers fairly—which sixteen years ago had them even more upset than they were now. Freeing their slaves meant they had to employ a proper workforce, and all of their investments into the swoles plummeted. Of course, a significant economic move like that cost Ranun as much as it did the noblemen, for he had to compensate. He forced them to release the swoles, and he forced them to take his money.

Ranun was still a devil among their circles yet, after all these years. Even after Soucrest blossomed into one of the richer nations in the world, they still held their grudges about years past. They cared more about how they lost hundreds of gold coins in the past than they are content making thousands now.

Regardless, everyone paid their fair share. There was no exception.

One day, they might have someone come and kill me… Ranun realized. He envisioned a civil war between the nobles who ran the economy and the honorable who ruled the kingdom.

Any nation would be ruined if only the rich ruled but so would the honorable if they had to work with money. For as much as they clashed, they needed each other to survive.

A knock came at his door.

“Come in,” Ranun said.

The door opened, and everything miserable about the room, his work, and his day flipped over its head. Calace stepped in with her smile, inciting Ranun’s own. An orange dress today, which came down well on her curves. Here they both were, now in their very early forties, and she still looked as stunning as ever.

Before she sat down, she noticed the papers from his desk that fell off to the side. She picked them up and tried to organize them back in front of Ranun. They were all signed, so she put them on the pile to Ranun’s right. “You look tired,” she noted. “You should take a break.”

Ranun grinned. “What’s with the surprise visit? You usually visit every other day.”

“This is the fifth day,” Calace said. “I thought maybe they would have sent a message back by now.”

Ranun shook his head. Not yet. Five days ago, Anemone left with Kinler out to Dork with a mission to request they become a protectorate. It was a heavy task to ask out of the new agent-general. And perhaps, even more, to ask of Anemone to go back to them.

“I hate the wait,” Calace said. “I hope she is doing well, staying out of trouble and everything.”

Ranun nodded in agreement. From the little time they shared, both Ranun and Calace grew attached to her in a way. There was just something to look forward to, coming home to her earnest green eyes. When they trained, she reminded him of Aidan when Ranun taught him how to hold a sword. He just hoped these fond memories would be recalled happily in the future, and not with sorrow and dread to what came with reminiscing over Aidan.

Another knock at the door, Ranun’s assistant David entered. “Carrier brings a message,” he said.

What timing, Ranun thought, standing up. David crossed from the door, handing Ranun the letter. Immediately, however, Ranun noticed the Silver Shield Stamp of Soucrest on the top right, indicating it sent from within Soucrest. “Thanks, David,” he said. David nodded before leaving the room.

Calace had excitement, thinking it came from Dork. Ranun flipped the letter around to show the stamp, and she frowned before going wide-eyed. “It could be from Gordon or Aeryn!”

Ranun was too caught up in the disappointment to consider that possibility. He clawed open the letter immediately, with the first thing he uncovered was the carrier station in Steepcreek, so the likelihood it came from the two of them was highly likely. Ranun sat back down, opening up the letter, handwritten. The terrible Huish letters were far too familiar to Ranun.

“Who is it from?” Calace asked.

“Gordon,”

“Ooo, read it!”

Ranun nodded. “’Brother, I write to you to let you know the mission is going well, and we have a solid lead to Corolla. Tonight, we arrest him once and for all before bringing him to Falcon Hill to face your trial. And—’” Ranun looked hard at the letters, so closely written together, it took him a while to recognize the name. “’Aeryn is doing very well, looking great in his set of Colors. He’s coming home with us. See you there. Thanks, from Gordon.’”

“That’s good,” Calace said.

Good was an understatement. A weight lifted off of his shoulders, and he now felt lightheaded. Ranun had promised himself that he wouldn’t discard his orange jacket sooted in ash until Corolla was brought to justice. He hated it, and it looked appalling and distasteful at times. But he wore it everywhere he could.

He initially said he would wear it until the damages that came from the fire were repaired, and everything was good. Only now, Ranun feared something much worse.

What if the fires originated from Corolla, and it was all a devastating ploy to distract Ranun? For anybody who could order an entire town massacred could make the order to burn a city down.

Despite that theory, he couldn’t be sure about it. It could have been Corolla, yes. It could have been a simple accident like Ranun first predicted. Either way, Corolla’s arrest will bring Ranun the closure he needed to put Igor behind him.

“Are you okay?” Calace asked.

“Me? Oh, yeah,” Ranun said. “It is good, isn’t it. I wish them luck.”

“You looked lost for a second there,” Calace said. “Would you like me to go fetch some water?”

“No,” Ranun said, smiling. He pulled a canteen from under his desk. Though, when he worked, he often forgot it existed. He took a drink, then offered it forward. “Want some?”

Calace took it but didn’t drink. “This is full! You aren’t drinking enough.”

Caught, Ranun laughed nervously.

“Honestly, no wonder why you are so tired when you get home. You’re working yourself to death. Even still. I thought we agreed you would take it easy.”

Ranun nodded, defeated. It was his way of fighting. For his country, a king fought to his death. If Ranun gave any more, he would work himself to literal death.

But he’d be damned if he wasn’t the hardest working king in Valoria. That was what he could do for his people to make up for what he couldn’t—or what he could do very little of—do for them.

“You need a day off,” Calace said.

“Calace, I’m the king. Days off are rare. Even then, I have to work slightly.”

“Fine, then you are taking a ‘work vacation’ out to Steepcreek. It’s time you hug your son in his armor. Maybe you can have Corolla’s trial there instead.”

Ranun considered it. Steepcreek was pretty close by, only a day away. Though, at this time of night, Ranun wouldn’t be able to travel until tomorrow morning, so he would miss the operation. But, it was a good idea nonetheless.

“You know what, you’re right,” Ranun said. “I’m going tomorrow.”

Calace blinked. “It was that easy?”

Ranun grinned. “So, you’re coming with me? It wouldn’t be much of a ‘vacation’ without you.”

Calace flushed but shook her head. “I have some labor meetings to attend to, and knowing Franstein, they won’t let me reschedule for anything.”

“Oh, then you should stay,” Ranun said. Franstein was the name of the grocery chain that had six stores in Falcon Hill alone, one in each outer district and two in Central. There were concerns about working conditions for their employees, and Calace spoke on their behalf. Wonderful woman, serving this country as well as their king ever did. “Bring out Lady Stone for them, alright?”

Calace grinned. “I won’t hold anything back to get what’s rightfully deserved.”

Ranun reached across the table, and they held each other’s right hands. The soft, smooth skin of her hand met his own. He let go, smiling as they both blushed.

“Screw it,” Ranun said. “You’re right; I need a break. Are you good for lunch?”

Calace nodded.

But before Ranun could step up, David burst into his office once again, carrying another letter.

He handed it over before Ranun could stand up. “Urgent,” David said. “From the office of Dork City.”

Ranun eyed Calace then dismissed David out of the room.

He opened this letter a little more carefully than he did Gordon’s, slipping the note out from the sides. This time, there was no hand-written script but typed letters.

Calace wore an anxious face, as the wait was killing her as she leaned forward.

“’To the office of Ranun Spring, King of Soucrest, our mission in Dork was a success, and from this day forward, Dork is now a protectorate of the Kingdom of Soucrest. Their territory is now ours to build and expand upon for five full years. There are, however, a few conditions that Lord Demin demands out of the arrangement.

“’First condition, we will improve upon their currently lackluster economy and bring stability to their markets. Second, we build improvements to both roads and construct additional educational facilities, such as grade schools, colleges, and military academies, which brings us to Lord Demin’s third demand. We must help them train and build an army, but their military will be passive in the case of war, but they will defend their cities and towns in the case of invasion.

“’We, unfortunately, arrived on the cusp of a Dormoor raid of their capital, and since our deal was struck, I was obligated to defend Dork. A Dormoor noble was unwilling to accept our protection of Dork and continued their raid. Casualties fell on both sides, but Dork City prevailed, and the Dormoor noble is sending a message back to Lord Aidan Payne in Dormoor, informing him of our new arrangement.

“’Anemone was injured—’” Ranun’s heart dropped as he read that. He swallowed, taking a long, needed breath. “’—defending the city against loose raiders, but her wounds were all self-inflicted, only a minor cut on her left hand. Nothing serious. Regardless, she stands among her people, both a hero and a free woman. The beast camps will halt production for now before its termination while we wait for further instruction to go from here. I suggested to Lord Demin that we take in the green-eyed victims on their behalf, respecting their values for now. I also wish for you to authorize the movement of perhaps a few hundred soldiers into the Dork Capital for security reasons.

“’For now, we will spend the night in Dork City, then head back to Falcon Hill in the morning.’ Signed, Kinler.”

“A self-inflicted wound?” Calace asked.

Ranun guessed why. She was an intuitive one. “She figured it was easier to draw her blood for her power than to rely on being cut by enemy foes to access it. At least, that’s my presumption from this text anyway. We’ll have to ask her for sure when she comes home.”

Calace smiled. She didn’t seem disheartened when she had first found out about Anemone’s power. Even when Ranun told her that Anemone’s blood had killed a man, she didn’t think anything less of Anemone. She understood the why before discrediting the how. She had loved Ranun before when he was a killer, and even more when he turned the corner to be the man he was now.

“But this is good, right?” Ranun said. “Now that the beast program is done for, her past should be behind her. She can finally feel a sense of normalcy.”

“Normalcy is a strong word to use here, Ranun. What’s normal to you won’t be normal for others. We can look past her blood, but those ignorant will not. Nothing is normal about her, and she’ll realize that soon enough. We just need to be there for her when she needs us.”

Ranun nodded. Only a select few knew of her power; the agent generals and the Colors. But none of them were normal by any means. If the civilians get a hold of her presence, Ranun feared how they would react. And then the kingdoms… damn the kingdoms. She would be weaponized much like how Dork used her green eyes to sway public opinion. It would be her past all over again…

“Finally clicking to you, huh?” Calace said, a little smug, happy by the fact she figured this out before him. Though, that wasn’t entirely true either.

“You know, when I purchased her sword, on our way back home, I requested her to keep her adoption a secret because of this. I feared what it would do to her, but I fear more about what it will do to us.”

Calace frowned.

“I told her not to share this with anybody, as if it would bring her as much trouble as it would me. I phrased it like a question but manipulated her to accept it.”

“Ranun…”

“I told you, of all people, that we came to a conclusion together. But I don’t think that’s very accurate. And you know what’s funny about this? She called me out when I was trying to manipulate her. Heh, for as naive as she can be… I was talking about how the adoption would make things hard on her. And you know what she asked me? How it would make me feel.”

Calace laughed, and suddenly her tone shifted completely. She cupped her mouth, but joy still leaked out from her.

“I know it’s early, but that’s my most fond memory of her. I thought it was the greatest lie I’ve ever told, manipulating the truth and omitting my own self-interests. I thought I was finally grasping how to lie properly. But there she was, upending me and making me a fool.”

“Well,” Calace stood up, leaning over Ranun’s desk, and kissed him square on the cheek. “You are a bad liar.”