On midsummer's eve, Luvenia worked through lunch to make sure there was very little left to do during the festival. She let the maids have the evening off; they praised her generosity, but she really just wanted to have some time to herself to replenish her social energy.
Alone at last, she slipped into a nightgown and a plush robe, then settled into her favorite chair to unwind with a romance novel she finally had time to start reading.
"Your majesty!"
Luvenia closed the book with a soft sigh. "Yes, chamberlain?"
"A– a very important guest has arrived!"
"Has the king been informed?"
"His majesty has already gone to bed, madam!"
"Of course." She set aside the book and pulled her hair back with the ribbon she had intended to use as a bookmark. "I shall greet the guest in his place. Who is it?"
"His highness the crown prince of Alatir!"
The psychological burden of queenly duty vanished so suddenly that she felt physically lighter.
"Never mind the formalities, chamberlain. Bring him directly here."
"To– to your sitting room, madam?"
"He may be a crown prince, but he's my brother first."
"Yes—yes, of course, madam!"
Luvenia took up the book again and leafed through it without any great attention, half intending to pretend to ignore her guest.
When Beaucaire stepped inside, she abandoned the pretense and bounded across the room to hug him.
"Whoa! Who's this ragamuffin?" He tousled her hair until she squeaked in playful indignation. "I came to see the queen of Middewold, not a little girl dressed up like an old lady!"
"How dare you insult the queen??" She couldn't help giggling. "I might have dressed up properly if I'd known you were coming."
"Can't a man surprise his sister once in a while?"
"Only if he doesn't mind her meeting him in her pajamas."
Beaucaire's smile lit up the room. He sprawled carelessly on a sofa and pulled her into his lap.
"I convinced our father to let me visit you for the midsummer festival. No need to thank me."
Luvenia felt a twinge of guilt. "Beau... I'm so glad you're here, but... I have plans for tomorrow."
"Naturally. I'll just tag along with you and your husband."
"...He's not going to be with me." Inspiration sparked in her brain. "Actually, it might be nice for you to spend time with him. It's his first midsummer without his father, so he's bound to be lonely... and I'm sure he'll appreciate your company."
He squeezed her around the middle. "You have festival plans that don't involve your husband? Who have you met here who's more important than the king??"
"I've promised to spend the day with someone whose birthday is midsummer."
" 'Someone'?"
She was seized by an impulse to tell him everything. It took an effort to mete out the information slowly.
"It's Hans—Iron Hans."
Beaucaire's arms stiffened around her.
"You're friends with that brute?!" he growled.
Luvenia huffed. "You don't know the first thing about it," she informed him. "Iron Hans isn't a brute at all."
"He has orders to kill you."
A shard of ice pierced Luvenia's heart.
Then the memory of Hanna's tenderness melted the ice.
"Is that what our father told you?" She half-turned to touch his cheek. "Is that why you came—because you thought I was in danger?"
Beaucaire didn't answer. He didn't need to.
"You're absolutely wonderful, and I love you to bits." She leaned in to rest her forehead against his. "But I'm safe here, truly. Iron Hans would never hurt me."
"How can you be sure of that?"
Luvenia gently disengaged from him and regained her feet. She stepped lightly to the connecting door and knocked.
"I think it's time to clear up a misunderstanding or two." Hearing Hanna's cautious tread, she opened the door and beckoned the cloaked figure through. "And to reintroduce you two. –Do you mind, my love?"
Hanna pulled back her hood. She smiled shyly at Beaucaire, who just stared back.
"Good evening, your highness. I am the one your father calls 'Iron Hans', but my true name is Hanna."
Beaucaire opened his mouth, paused, then closed it again. His eyes were saucer-wide.
"Thank you, my sweet." Luvenia went up on tiptoe to kiss the blushing Hanna. "Now, let's tell Beau why I'm so sure you won't hurt me."
"...Should I leave?" muttered Beaucaire, looking bewildered.
Luvenia laughed and sat back down in his lap. "No chance, darling. It's storytime, so settle in."
"Fine." He raised his hands in defeat. "Do your worst."
***
The morning of the festival was as bright and fair as anyone could wish. Merrymakers crowded Forester Square, buying street food and souvenirs from the many vendors encamped along the side streets.
Even the royal carriage could only come within two blocks of the square. Gorogon and Luvenia were obliged to walk, albeit with an honor guard of knights, to reach the dais from which they would greet their people.
"At the rate we're going," Gorogon murmured in Luvenia's ear, "we'll have spent more time getting to the square than we'll spend speaking on it."
"Good. No one likes a long speech, anyway."
From the dais, Luvenia could see the whole crowd at once. She was unexpectedly overwhelmed by the sight of so many strangers, so many eyes on her...
Gorogon took her hand, then raised his head and spoke in a carrying voice.
"My people! Esteemed guests! I bid you welcome!"
Luvenia listened to the shouts and applause in wonder. These were commoners, low-ranking nobles, well-to-do merchants, visitors from other kingdoms—all assembled to celebrate this auspicious day together.
These were their people. These were HER people.
At Gorogon's cue, she added her part of the proclamation:
"Be safe, be well, and be merry!"
A quartet of familiar voices caught her attention. Her maids had gathered near the dais and were calling out to her. They were decked out in new ensembles; she had given them bonuses to buy everything they needed to look their best for the festival.
She blew them a kiss and reveled in their chorus of joy.
Gorogon raised their joined hands. They ended their tiny speech together:
"Let the festival begin!"
Amid cheers and whistles, the royal couple left the stage. A young knight offered his arm to Luvenia as she descended.
"Thank you, Sir Weszin."
He blushed. "M-my pleasure, your majesty."
Luvenia could see why Mellie was smitten with him.
"Actually... I wonder if I might ask you for a favor. It's not an order."
"Madam?"
"Are you acquainted with my maids? They're out enjoying the festival today, but I worry about those lovely girls going unaccompanied in such a large crowd—especially Mellie."
The way his eyes widened told her that he was ready to help Mellie. She didn't know if Mellie would thank her for this, but it seemed worthwhile to instigate a little social interaction between the two.
"I saw them just now in the square, near a banner advertising the Lotus Bakery. If you're not otherwise engaged, would you be so kind as to accompany my girls during the festival?"
"It would be an honor, your majesty."
He bowed so quickly that he nearly hit her with his head. She kept a straight face until he vanished into the crowd, at which point she started laughing.
"What is my mischievous queen up to today?"
She took Gorogon's arm and bumped her head affably against his shoulder. "Just sharing the love, darling."
***
"Why did we have to wait in the carriage?" grumbled Beaucaire.
Despite his surly tone, he helped Luvenia inside, then offered his hand to Gorogon. Both of them hesitated just long enough for it to become awkward; then Beaucaire laughed, grabbed Gorogon's arm, and pulled him into the carriage.
"Because I didn't want Hanna going around in a cloak in this hot weather." Luvenia closed the door and rapped on the roof; the coach started forward. "And it wouldn't be fair to leave her alone on her birthday. You're my brother, so you're the next best thing to me, so–"
"What do you mean, 'the next best'?" Beaucaire looked plaintively at Gorogon. "Surely the king of Middewold won't allow such an insult to his guest to go unchallenged??"
Gorogon grinned sheepishly. "Forgive me, dear prince, but I dare not oppose my beloved wife." Leaning over, he added in an exaggerated whisper: "She knows where I sleep."
The three continued to tease each other throughout the ride. Only Hanna was silent, but she looked happy.
When they disembarked at the palace, Luvenia pulled Gorogon aside and whispered in his ear: "You should show him the gazebo."
Before he could respond, she pushed him toward Beaucaire, grabbed Hanna's hand, and ran away laughing.
***
It had taken a great deal of willpower for Luvenia to only buy a few presents for Hanna. She wanted to give Hanna the best of everything—things Hanna needed, things Hanna wanted, things Hanna might not yet know that she wanted—but their relationship was still so new, and giving Hanna a roomful of gifts would probably make her uncomfortable.
"This only arrived yesterday, so I didn't have time to have it made into a proper cloak yet." Luvenia draped the fabric over Hanna's arm. "It's light and soft, but just as opaque as thick wool, so you can wear it outdoors even in summer."
"It's beautiful, your majesty. I'm honored."
Luvenia set a lacquered box in Hanna's lap. "This comes from Zof. My father's last concubine was Zofin, and she used to brush my hair with the most amazing brushes. I got you a full set."
"Your majesty, how can I accept these?"
"Please, darling—I want you to have them."
Hanna gazed at her adoringly. "Then I'll treasure them, your majesty."
Luvenia put her hand on the third gift in her pocket. Doubt crept into her mind. This had seemed like a thoughtful present when she had commissioned it, but all at once she worried that Hanna might read into it and be hurt.
"Hanna, if... if there were a way to... make your scars less noticeable... would you want that?"
Something like sadness darkened Hanna's smile.
"I would love to look better in your eyes, madam."
"No–!" Luvenia took the box and set it aside so she could take its place on Hanna's lap. She knelt across Hanna's thighs and peppered her face with kisses. "I don't want you thinking that there's anything wrong with your face, or that I don't like you just as you are now. That's not why I..."
The way Hanna's eyes shimmered made Luvenia forget what she'd meant to say.
"Your majesty." She rested her hand lightly on the small of Luvenia's back—an act both intimate and chaste. "I belong to you. If my face pleases you, then I am content with my scars. If you wish for me to hide my scars, then I would gladly do so."
"Not to hide them, darling."
Luvenia drew the last gift from her pocket. It was a cunningly-made screwtop canister of damascene steel; she uncapped it and tapped out a small amount of salve into Hanna's palm.
"I wanted something to treat your scars, but most of the creams and balms I've read about cause some pain during treatment, or have strong unpleasant smells... so I asked Dr. Danacy about it, and she made me a special salve. It's meant to be very mild, so you can use it every day, and it shouldn't hurt at all. The results will be gradual, but... it should help."
Hanna looked as though Luvenia had poured stardust into her hand.
"Madam, I..." Her eyes welled up. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything, darling."
Hanna's large hand trembled like an aspen leaf.
"Would you..." Her voice was so low that Luvenia had to lean down to catch it. "...help me... put it on?"
Luvenia smiled. "Of course, my sweet Hanna."
She wetted her fingertips with the salve. First she kissed the scar at the corner of Hanna's mouth, then she smoothed a little salve over the same spot.
"It's going to take a long time to do it that way, your majesty," murmured Hanna, her patches of unmarred skin glowing a healthy shade of pink.
"Good." She planted another soft kiss on Hanna's jaw. "Then I'll spend the whole afternoon in your arms."
"What then?"
"Then I'll spend the evening brushing and braiding your hair. I've thought of everything, you see."
Hanna closed her eyes. Even the scar on her mouth could barely suppress her smile.