The return to the palace was faster than the journey out. Kael pushed his horse without mercy, as if trying to flee the marsh mist. Kira followed without complaint. The twilight stretched above them, endless.
They passed through the gates at nightfall. Drakk waited for them in the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back.
"Well?" he asked.
"She'll come," said Kael.
"You're sure?"
"No."
"But you're hopeful."
"Let's say I planted something."
Drakk nodded.
"Dinner is ready."
"I'm not hungry."
"You should eat anyway. The kitchens have resumed service. They were waiting for you."
Kael sighed.
"Fine. But no ceremony."
"As you wish."
They entered. The palace was warmer, more alive. Torches burned in the galleries. Servants came and went. In the distance, voices and the clatter of dishes could be heard.
"It almost feels like home," said Kira.
"Almost," Kael replied.
The dining hall was vast, lit by silver candelabras. A long table set, steaming dishes, carafes of dark wine. Thorgar was already seated, a glass in hand.
"My king."
"Thorgar."
"You succeeded?"
"Partially."
"Better than nothing."
Kael sat. Kira took a place beside him. Drakk sat across.
"Eat," said Drakk. "You need your strength."
Kael served himself without enthusiasm. The food was good, rich, fragrant with demonic spices. He ate in silence.
"You seem troubled," said Thorgar.
"No. Thoughtful."
"About what?"
"About what comes next. The kings. The lost territories."
"Do you want to talk about it now?"
"Yes."
Drakk set down his fork.
"Where do you want to begin?"
"With the most urgent."
"Maëldor."
"Yes. He's the closest, the most ambitious, and he profited from my absence."
"He'll send emissaries. Perhaps even a delegation."
"Let him come. I'll receive him."
"And if he demands concessions?"
"He'll demand nothing. He'll negotiate."
"You're ready to negotiate?"
"I'm ready to listen. Then I'll decide."
Thorgar took a sip of wine.
"And the Vorlath?"
"They betrayed. They attacked my people. They'll pay."
"Through war?"
"Through fear. First."
"You want to make an example."
"Yes."
Drakk nodded.
"We have scouts. I can prepare an operation."
"Not yet. I want to see the state of the borders first."
"The reports are on your desk."
"I'll read them tomorrow."
"And Serya?" asked Thorgar.
"She'll come back. When she's ready."
"And Valdrek?"
"I'll have to go see him."
"He's dangerous."
"He's one of us. I won't abandon him."
The dinner continued. Conversations flowed, light, almost ordinary. Kael spoke more than usual. He listened to Thorgar's stories, Drakk's remarks, Kira's silences.
At one point, he caught himself smiling.
"What?" asked Kira.
"Nothing."
"You're smiling."
"So?"
"It's rare."
"I'm in my palace. I have the right to smile."
"You have all the rights."
"Exactly."
After the meal, Kael retired to his quarters. He wasn't tired. He sat by the window, the notebook on his lap.
He turned the pages until he reached the sketch of the unknown woman.
"Who are you?" he murmured again.
The question remained unanswered.
He closed the notebook, stood, approached the window. The city spread below him, bathed in starlight. The roofs gleamed. The streets were calm.
The Neverdie Realm.
His kingdom.
He placed a hand on the cold stone.
"I'm home," he said quietly.
The wind answered by snapping a banner.
He stayed there a long time, watching the night. Then he went to bed.
---
The next day, Kael worked in the study. Reports piled up. Drakk had prepared everything: maps, registers, inventories. Kael read quickly, annotated, asked questions.
"The reserves are lower than expected," he said.
"Yes," Drakk replied. "The concessions took their toll."
"We need to rebuild stock."
"Tarval can supply."
"At what price?"
"Ores. And perhaps a non-aggression pact."
"He wants to ensure I won't attack him."
"Probably."
"He has nothing to fear. He's not in my path."
"He doesn't know that."
"He'll learn."
Kael flipped through another report.
"The southern garrisons are in poor condition."
"Yes. That's the most exposed zone."
"Reinforce them."
"With what means?"
"Take from the palace. Reduce the pomp."
Drakk looked at him.
"You're serious?"
"Yes. The kingdom comes before the gilding."
"Very well."
"And send scouts to the Krell basins. I want to know what the Vorlath are doing there."
"It will be done."
Kael stood.
"Anything else?"
"The Ten Kings. Some are awaiting a response."
"They'll get one. In due time."
"They might grow impatient."
"They'll wait."
He left the study. Kira was waiting in the corridor.
"You worked well."
"You spying on me?"
"No. I was waiting."
"Why?"
"To show you something."
"What?"
"The city. Not on horseback. On foot."
Kael hesitated.
"For what purpose?"
"To see the people. The shops. The life."
"I'm not a tourist."
"No. You're a king. And a king must know his city."
Kael sighed.
"Fine. Let's go."
They went out.
The capital's streets were lively. Merchants shouted, children ran, demons of all races crowded between the stalls. The air smelled of spice, leather, smoke.
Kael walked slowly, hands clasped behind his back. Passersby stepped aside, bowed, but without excessive fear.
"They're watching you," said Kira.
"I see."
"They're curious."
"They want to see the king."
"Yes. And they seem reassured."
"Why?"
"Because you're here. Truly here. In the streets."
Kael stopped before a fabric stall. A young demoness handed him an embroidered scarf.
"For you, my king. A gift."
Kael took the scarf. It was midnight blue, embroidered with silver thread.
"Thank you."
"You honor me."
"It is you who honors me."
The young demoness blushed. Kael resumed walking, the scarf in hand.
"Are you going to keep it?" asked Kira.
"Yes."
"You never wear scarves."
"I'll wear it."
"You surprise me."
"Good."
They continued to the central square. An ancient fountain flowed, surrounded by benches. Musicians played. Couples danced.
Kael watched the scene.
"Do you know what I missed?" he said.
"What?"
"This. The noise. The warmth."
"The people?"
"No. Life."
Kira smiled.
"You really are back."
"Yes. Finally."