im-uvnyan
."
He helped her into the carriage and shut the door and watched as she rode away from him. He followed them with his eyes until the road turned and they were out of sight, and would have stayed watching longer.
"Come," Leitham said, putting a hand to his shoulder. "We have much work to do."
Bethaer nodded and turned away, setting aside his fear and doubt. His people needed him.
Leitham's words were an understatement if anything. Anderar's finances were in shambles, his father having thrown everything into warring with his neighbors for ten straight years. The fields lay fallow and the cities were filled with peasant refugees and former soldiers. Bandits harried travelers on the roads, which the combined forces led by Berelthia's generals were dealing with as best they could. Bethaer worried it would take twice as long to set the kingdom straight as it had to ruin it. He yearned for his child to inherit a stable nation and threw himself into his duties.
The first thing he did was move the seat of government from Jashil to Kiridas, the old capital his father had eschewed. He established convoys to ensure safe passage for farmers back to their lands, temporarily appointing Berelthian commanders and their units to assist the local lords with protecting their domains.
This winter would he a hard one, he knew. Many of his people would starve, and they would need to borrow an enormous sum to buy out the extra grain from surrounding kingdoms. But Anderar was full of lush plains and great rivers, and he knew that if they could only hold on until spring, then this time next year would yield abundant crops once more.
Leitham assisted him in liaising with the Berelthian forces, and his Sytheiran cousin did the same. The representatives of other kingdoms weren't so keen to cooperate, but Endorran applied a firm hand to his allies. It surprised Bethaer, given how cool his father-in-law was towards him, but he supposed the king had set aside his animosity in favor of ensuring his daughter's future happiness.
By contrast, Leitham had warmed to him, and they grew closer the more time they spent working together. They ate in the great hall, now, with the rest of the court, and Leitham made a show of friendliness by always inviting Bethaer to sit with him. They traded stories of their youth and their training, even sparring on occasion when their workload lessened. It kept his mind away from worrying about his wife, though he knew she'd arrived safely from the messenger pigeon they had received.
Bethaer awoke one morning to a bright white light peeking through the shutters, and when he opened them he found the grounds of the court covered in a dusting of snow. Now was the time, he knew. He needed to leave before the high mountain passes became too perilous to traverse.
To his surprise, Leitham volunteered to winter in Anderar in his stead, overseeing the plans Bethaer had labored over with his advisers. It relieved him, and he thanked his brother-in-law profusely, but the man only clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. Bethaer was less enthused to be traveling with his father-in-law to Lamath, but at least the weather was still good enough to ride horseback. It would have been painfully awkward sharing a carriage with him.
They set out on a clear, cold day, the air crisp and breezy. Bethaer rode behind Endorran, and their group slowly descended the switchback roads until they came to a natural pass. Bethaer slowed, gazing down at the low mountain ranges spilling out before them like waves in the sea.
"The Ritan mountains," Endorran said at his side, and Bethaer nodded. These were the mountains that guarded the southern border of Berelthia and would take weeks to traverse.
He wondered briefly how Igandrion had managed to make it all the way to Lamath without being discovered, hitting the palace with such ferocity that the royal forces were forced to flee rather than follow after him as he retreated with their princess.
Bethaer shook his head; there was no use in thinking about it now. Whatever weaknesses in Berelthia's defenses that Igandrion had made use of, his father-in-law had surely strengthened. So he kicked his horse into a trot, making his way down the pass.
Endorran set a brutal pace, clearly used to traveling hard over the difficult terrain. Bethaer, more familiar with the plains and forests of Anderar, struggled to keep up. Each day's ride exhausted him more than the last, but he forced himself to stay upright, to grip his horse by the legs and hold on tight. They switched horses regularly, and while Endorran did not display his banners, he flashed his signet ring quietly when necessary to procure rooms for the night. If there were no inns, they made camp by the road. It was more spartan than Bethaer had imagined the older man would tolerate, but then, he had spent the last ten years at war.
Each day felt longer than the last, though in reality the daylight shortened considerably as they journeyed onward. The mountains turned into ridges and the valleys widened. The trees turned bright colors, and the farms they passed were busy planting winter crops.
At last they topped the ridge overlooking Lamath, passing a guard post where the men saluted, clearly recognizing their king. Bethaer itched to set his horse into a canter down the long, straight road to the city, but he held back. Endorran sent a herald ahead to announce their imminent arrival, and Bethaer watched the man gallop off, Berelthia's blue-and-green flag snapping in the wind.
Nervously he turned the empty spot where his signet ring used to be. He had refused to wear his father's, commissioning two new rings for his wife and himself. He still had his father's medallion, though he was loath to wear it, especially here. He wondered if the people of Lamath would recognize him as they rode through the streets toward the royal palace.
He needn't have worried, for the crowds gave him nary a second look. Passing through the gate, only Endorran was announced, which Bethaer was grateful for. The king had donned his robes and kitted his horse in Berelthia's colors, while their escort attached pennants to their polearms. Riding through the main road toward the palace, the streets were lined with cheering city folk waving green and blue ribbons. They must have been elated already to welcome home their long-lost princess, and now their king had returned, victorious.
Bethaer kept his eyes ahead, on the great walled castle where his wife had been raised and would now bear her first child. To his impatient mind it felt as though it would take an eternity to reach the castle gates, but once they passed through, his stomach began to knot, his hands to tremble. What if the child had already been born? What if it had gone wrong and she'd lost the baby, or worse, her own life?
Surely the crowds would not have been so jubilant if that were so, he assured himself. Glancing over to his father-in-law, the man was stoic as ever. They headed straight for the stables, where Bethaer hung about awkwardly after tending to his horse. At last one of Endorran's men steered him toward the main entrance of the palace, where the king was being greeted by his wife and their various children, several daughters and a young son.
Bethaer cast about for his wife and spied her walking purposefully toward him, flanked by a small army of attendants. She waved them off as she descended the steps, making straight for him.
"
Im-uvnya
," he said, bowing as she approached.
"
Im-uvnyan
." She wrapped her arms around him, her belly large between them. She had grown even more since they had parted, her breasts engorged. Hesitantly he returned her hug as she held him tight.
"Thank you for arriving before the baby," she murmured into his chest.
"I could do nothing less," he replied, warmed by her embrace.
When she finally pulled away there were tears in her eyes, which he tenderly brushed away. "You should greet your royal father," he told her, and she nodded and walked over to the rest of her family.
He watched her go, walking slowly but unsupported, her steps more sure. She must have gotten stronger, he realized; if her attendants were content to let her walk on her own, then he would be as well.
Endorran and his wife turned to go inside and Litheian beckoned him over. "I still need help up the steps," she said, embarrassed, but he smiled and took her arm.
The Berelthian royal palace was an older style but just as grand as any newer castle. Litheian led him through several large halls before taking the stairs to the royal apartments. It was the custom in Berelthia, he knew, for the men's and women's quarters to be separate, so he hesitated to follow her to her chamber.
"Are you sure I am permitted here?" he asked her, as he caught yet another servant glancing at him curiously.
"Yes," she said firmly. "These rooms in the middle are for married couples. My brother was meant to take this chamber first, but for now it's ours."
He nodded and entered, finding the room spacious and warm. The furniture was heavier and daker than he was used to, the rugs and tapestries richer, the heavy curtains thick to keep out the cold. He glanced over at the great bed, which was low to the ground and heaped with furs.
"I grow cold more easily," she said, seeing where he was looking. "But now that you're here, you can keep me warm."
He flushed, though he knew her words were innocent. "Who has been staying with you?" he asked.
"Lisse watches me at night and helps me when I walk," she answered, sitting on a bench covered in pillows.
He went to join her. "And how often is that?" he asked, taking her hand.
"Not as often," she said quietly. "But I... I've started to remember my dreams."
He held her hand more tightly, not knowing what to say.
