“He loves me, and I reward his love by forcing on him something he hates. In the evening, after we dance, he rarely returns to the throne; he dances with others or moves from place to place through the room. The court thinks he is trying to be gracious, sharing his attention. Only I see that he moves always to the empty spot and the court always moves after him. He is like a dog trying to escape his own tail. He indulged himself in one brief moment of privacy, and almost died of it. Relius, he hates being king.”

“I know," Attolia soothed him. "I did not say that I am afraid. He is, though, I think. Afraid of his own desire for power. He is not unused to wielding power, but it has always been in secret. I could, of course, command him to be king. He will give me anything I ask.""That would only confirm your sovereignty, not his," Relius objected. "So," agreed the queen.Relius considered he, sitting beside him. She didn't seem unduly concerned. "I am confident, My Queen, that if you have met your match, so has he.”

“Darker thoughts crowded in during the deepest hours of the night when he woke listening to the secret mystifying sounds of the sleeping palace. Many nights, the king was there. Pleasant, irrelevant, and distracting, he eased Relius past nightmares and self-recrimination. Some nights he said nothing at all, just comforted with his presence. Other nights he related the events of his day, spewing out his insights and analyses of the Attolian court in a devastatingly funny critique.”

“He limped slowly over to his own wooden sword and stooped awkwardly to pick it up. Trailing it on the ground behind him, he limped toward the queen, and the courtyard quieted as he approached and was silent again as he dropped to his knees before her and laid the sword across her lap.“My Queen,” he said.“My King,” she said back.Only those closest saw him nod his rueful acceptance. He lifted his hand to brush her cheek softly. As the entire court listened breathlessly, he said, “I want my breakfast.”The queen’s lips thinned, and she shook her head as she said, “You are incorrigible.”

“Everything I said he agreed with, which was trying, and his flute playing would make the deaf wince, but I think the real problem with Hyacinth was that he reminded me of myself. He read poetry. He flinched at loud noises. In addition to having no musical skills, he had no martial skills. He avoided any situation that might require physical effort on his part. Seeing him, I found it no wonder that my father despised me.”

“Relius looked away. "He said that you...cried," he said softly."But not that he cried as well," said the queen, amused at the memory. "We were very lachrymose... would you like to hear more romance of the evening? He told me the Guard should be reduced by half, and I threw an ink jar at his head.""Is that when he cried?""He ducked," said Attolia dryly."I had not pictured you for a fishwife.""Lo, the transforming power of love.”

“Would you like to hear more romance of the evening? He told me that the Guard should be reduced by half, and I threw an ink jar at his head.""Is that when he cried?""He ducked," Attolia said dryly.Grown more confident of the queen's humor, Relius said, "I had not pictured you for a fishwife.""Lo, the transforming power of love.”