The Monarch's quarters were empty when she finally weaved her way back across the grounds from Bardic, fatigued but heart-whole. Whatever happened in that forest, we don't have to worry about Stef haring off on some suicide mission again. I could Sense the healing. She frowned. She'd sensed something else, too, something when she mentioned the guardsmen in Sorrows, but—

He can keep his secrets. He's earned them.

Flopping into her chair, she pulled off her plain brown boots and threw them across the room.

:Feeling better, Chosen?: Taver mindspoke, hints of blue relief washing his mind-voice.

:Loads: She replied. :I would have been devastated—utterly devastated—to lose Stef.:

:We all would have. Haven is a better place with him in it.:

:The world is a better place with him in it:, Jisa replied absently, thinking of the months before Vanyel's death. :I wonder if he'll ever be anything like his old self again.:

:Don't count on it, love. But he'll get better, with time.:

Time, she thought, sending a quick good night to Taver. The thing none of us have enough of.

Just then, a rustle at the door interrupted her musings. Looking up, she saw a crown of thick gold hair half-tumbling into worried blue eyes.

"Have you finally been released?" she said light-heartedly, miming unlocking handcuffs.

He chuckled and shut the door, some of the worry dissipating. "Alas, yes, despite my dire crimes."

"Indeed? And what might those be?"

"Being elected Heir-presumptive against my wildest nightmares of succession lines," he replied, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Then actually being crowned King."

She held out her arms from her chair and he crossed the room to fall into them.

"I shall pardon you for a thousand kisses."

"I accept!" he exclaimed, taking the coronet off his head and tossing it onto the fireplace. "Then I am no longer King?"

"No, you're simply the Queen's lowborn lover, part of an indecent, embarrassing affair," she joked back.

"Indecent and embarrassing?" He flipped her over in the chair, so that she was straddling him. "I think we can manage that."

The next morning saw both of them awake before the sun, drinking mugs of tea with hot bread in relative silence.

Treven interrupted her thoughts. "So he's back, and better?"
"Who?"

"Stefen, who else? The subject of our conversation for the past two months."

"Yes! I'm sorry, I was distracted last night..."
"As was I," he said with a quick smile. "But I need him—the Crown needs him—for pain-blocking and morale-boosting on the Karsite front."

Morale boosting, she muttered internally. Stefen's not much better than a full-on funeral parade for that right now.

"Give him a few days, love. He's better but he's not the same Stefen. You know that."

Treven met her eyes and held them. "None of us are the same without him. We lived in the time of a legend. How many Heralds and Bards will speak or sing of Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron hundreds of years hence?" he paused, shaking his head wonderingly. "It's begun already; it's almost hard to believe he was a man. But Stef is a strong man too, stronger than he knows. Helping Valdemar and staying busy are the two best things for him right now."

Pondering his words for a moment, Jisa slowly nodded. "I do believe you're right, Trev." Nothing like the Karsite front to cheer one's spirits! Testament to how truly devastated Stef is that that seems the better option than Haven, with all its memories.