Jaredeth relieved himself of his coat and settled on the stone bench. Outside the air smelled of salt and citrus, and the half moon cast muted silvery light through the canopies of the gelus trees lining the east garden’s path. When winter passed, they’d stopped producing their vibrant, blue flowers, the one thing he enjoyed about the colder months.

Music drifted out of the ballroom along with the murmuring of conversation, but he put his back to it all and revelled in the night's silence. This was what he needed, a moment of quiet respite where he didn’t have to worry about the crown, the throne, being King. There’d be plenty of time for that during his inaugural meeting with the Council tomorrow.

Torrian poured him out a glass of red wine they’d stolen from the kitchen—well, taken. A King couldn’t steal what was already his, while Edgar, the other third of their rambunctious trio leaned against a tree to nurse his cup of rum. They sipped in silence for a while, listening to the distant waves brush the east coast and the chirping of nighttime insects.

“So,” Torrian said, pushing his unruly curls from his face. “How’s it feel to be wearing the crown?”

Jaredeth took it off his head and offered it to his friend. “Go ahead and try it for yourself.”

“No thanks. Looks a little too heavy for me.” Torrian took a draught straight from the bottle. “You know, when dad retired from the Council, he wanted me to take his place. But I prefer the ways of the sword more than the ways of diplomacy.”

“Lucky you, you had a choice.” Jaredeth sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I wasn’t ready for this.” He’d expected his father to stay on the throne for ten or twenty years. Such assumptions were foolish, he supposed, with the fickleness and fragility of life.

Edgar plucked the crown from Jaredeth’s hand and turned it over. He was stormy eyed like the king, though his hair and skin were darker. “My dad told me he threw the former King’s crown over the east cliff on his coronation day. Then had to spend the next week swimming around the gulf to find it.”

“Did he?” Jaredeth asked.

Edgar shrugged. “This could be a brand new crown for all we know.” He perched it on his head and grunted. “You didn’t lie about it being heavy. I don’t envy you.”

Torrian corked the wine. “We shouldn’t linger out here too long. Someone will come looking for us, especially you, your majesty.”

“I don’t think I'll return.” Jaredeth rose and stretched. “I have an early day tomorrow. I don’t know how they expected me to entertain for half the night and be coherent for the Council meeting tomorrow.”

“Then go up.” Edgar tossed his crown back. “Nothing happens at these parties save for a bunch of self-important assholes posturing for clout.”

He couldn’t disagree. “Cover for me. If anyone asks, I ate something off, and I’m not feeling well.”

They took the wide path around the east gardens to the north side of the castle and entered through the many side doors the guards used during their rotations. While Torrian and Edgar went off towards the ballroom, Jaredeth took the steps up to his chamber. As he passed the adjacent nursery, he heard a baby cooing from inside and smiled.

He knocked on the door and peeked inside. Jaliah sat with her nursemaid, Rynn, surrounded by a cascade of toys and books and stuffed animals. The latter held a book in one hand while trying to keep former from tearing the pages with the other. The nursery smelled of lavender and the frilly pink curtains at the back were drawn tight. More books sat on a table in the far corner next to the rocking chair.

Rynn looked up as Jaredeth stepped in. “Your Majesty. I thought you’d be at the party.”

“I stepped away a little early. I think I ate something off.” He slipped his shoes off and tossed his cape over the coat rack.

“Ah,” Rynn said. “Well, I’m just trying to get Jaliah to bed. She’s being extra fussy tonight.”

“Allow me then.” He stepped over the toys and plucked a cooing Jaliah from Rynn’s arms. The little girl reached for his crown, but he held her out of reach.

Rynn laughed and rubbed Jaliah’s head. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go ahead and enjoy the party. And if anyone asks, I’m in bed.”

“Alright. Goodnight, your Majesty.”

When Rynn disappeared through the door, Jaredeth kicked the toys out of his path and made his way to the door that adjoined the nursery to his chambers. It was dark, but he knew the layout well enough to make his way to the balcony without incident. Out there was a lone swinging bench surrounded by tall potted plants.

His room sat on the west side of the castle, and the balcony afforded him a view of the ambassador’s residences. The air from that direction was more floral than salty as it wafted over the gardens surrounding the consulate and carried the scent of early spring blossoms.

Jaredeth sat back on the bench with his daughter in his lap and showered her face with kisses. “You are much better company, my dear.” Jaliah cooed and yanked his crown down from his head.

“No, no, you don’t want that, trust me.” He pried it from her chubby little hands and set it on the bench. “I guess we won’t get to hang out as much anymore, hm?” He took her little hand between his thumb and forefinger.

When he was a boy, he’d spend most of his days with his mother or engrossed in his studies, but the quiet moments he shared with his father were some of his fondest memories. Too bad they were few and far between. Most days he’d catch brief glimpses of his father here and there until he grew old enough to attend those insufferable Council meetings or accompany him on diplomatic trips. In those moments Jaredeth saw him less as a father and more as “the King.” They were torture compared to the nights when they’d sit in his office and talk for hours or the rare times he’d sit for dinner with Jaredeth and his mother, ask about their day. The times when he chose family over duty.

Jaredeth didn’t look forward to making such choices, to disappointing his wife and daughter, disappointing himself. Elaine and Jaliah needed him. This pampered royal life with all its amenities couldn’t replace the love and comfort of family and friends.

Jaliah reached from the crown again, and Jaredeth plucked it from the bench, held it just out of her reach.

“You think you’re ready?” he asked, and poised it over her head. He may have found the sight of her in the crown cute, if the thought of her wearing it didn’t disgust him so. Even if she was ready to bear the weight of it, he wouldn’t give it to her.

No, he’d carry this burden for a thousand years if it meant she didn’t have to.