“You came to Greykeep expecting to find someone unworthy of the Crown.”
“I came prepared for that possibility.”
“You questioned me. You disagreed with me. You told me when my decisions were foolish.”
“I did not use that exact word.”
“You thought it.”
“Frequently.”
“And after all of that, you still returned.”
Her expression warmed.
“Yes.”
“I wanted you to return.”
The words came out more easily than I expected.
Evelyn looked away for a moment.
Her cheeks had colored.
“I hoped you did.”
“I do not want to marry someone because a treaty requires it.”
“Neither do I.”
“And I would not ask you to.”
“Good.”
“But I would like to know you when neither of us is judging a king or removing a lord.”
“I would like that too.”
“So perhaps we should begin there.”
“With what?”
I had no idea.
That seemed to be happening frequently.
“A meal?”
“We have eaten together.”
“Beatrice was forcing you to finish soup. I am not sure that counts.”
“It was stew.”
“That distinction seems unimportant.”
“It would matter to Beatrice.”
“Then we should never mention it.”
Evelyn laughed again.
I liked making her do that.
“A meal,” she agreed. “When?”
I looked over the settlement.
A sanitation guardian emerged from the collapsed ground carrying a wooden barrel in its mouth. Mary chased it while shouting that the barrel needed to be inspected.
One of the longhouse frames leaned dangerously to the left.
Eleanor noticed.
Her voice carried across half the district.
“Soon,” I said.
“That is not a time.”
“Tomorrow evening?”
Evelyn nodded.
“Tomorrow evening.”
“Then we can discuss whether we dislike each other when no armies are present.”
“I already know I do not dislike you.”
“That is useful information.”
“What about you?”
“I am becoming concerned that I may like you quite a lot.”
Her smile changed.
It became softer.
Hopeful.
Before either of us could say anything else, a voice came from the stairs.
“I knew it.”
Melody stood three steps below the wall.
Mary appeared behind her.
“You were supposed to wait.”
“I waited.”
“For less than a minute.”
“It was a very long minute.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
I considered jumping from the wall.
It was not high enough to kill me.
It was high enough to make the point.
“How much did you hear?” I asked.
Melody climbed the remaining steps.
“Marriage alliance.”
“Of course.”
“And dinner.”
“Melody.”
“And the part where you like her quite a lot.”
Evelyn turned toward the distant hills.
Mary looked genuinely apologetic.
“I tried to stop her.”
“You did not try very hard,” Melody said.
“I did not want to shout and interrupt them.”
“That would have been less embarrassing,” I said.
Melody considered it.
“No.”
Mary held up a ledger.
“We have a sanitation problem.”
“Another one?”
“The construction units opened the first western outlet.”
“That sounds good.”
“It was blocked.”
“That sounds expected.”
“With furniture.”
I stared at her.
“Furniture?”
“Beds. Tables. Wardrobes. Approximately thirty chairs.”
“Why?”
“We do not know.”
“Who puts thirty chairs in a sewer?”
Melody raised her hand.
“No,” Mary said.
“I was going to answer.”
“That is why I stopped you.”
Evelyn regained her composure.
“Were they washed into the tunnel?”
“No,” Mary said. “They were stacked deliberately behind a brick barrier.”
“That is concerning.”
“Master Aldren believes someone blocked the outlet years ago to redirect the waste channel.”
“Where was it redirected?” I asked.
Mary pointed south.
“Toward the lower farms.”
The humor disappeared.
The lower farms supplied vegetables to Greykeep before Harwick seized the surrounding territory. Several families had returned to them within the last week.
“If we restore the sewer,” I said, “it empties onto farmland.”
“Yes.”
“Was it designed that way?”
“No. The original channel continues west toward a treatment marsh. Someone built a false turn after Greykeep fell.”
“Harwick?”
“We do not know.”
Evelyn took the document from my hand and folded it.
“This discussion can wait.”
“Are you sure?”
“The city needs its king.”
Something in her tone made the title feel different.
Not heavier.
Warmer.
I looked at Mary.
“How quickly will waste reach the redirected channel?”
“If we open the central junction, less than an hour.”
“Then do not open it.”
“We had gathered that.”
“Where is Eleanor?”
“At the outlet.”
“Get Aldren, the construction units, and every mason who has worked on drainage. We restore the original route before anything else.”
Mary nodded and hurried down the stairs.
Melody remained.
I looked at her.
“What?”
“You have a dinner tomorrow.”
“I heard.”
“With Lady Evelyn of House Valewood.”
“Yes.”
“A marriage dinner.”
“It is not a marriage dinner.”
Evelyn’s cheeks colored again.
Melody smiled.
“I can help.”
“No,” Evelyn and I said together.
Melody looked delighted.
“You are already agreeing on things.”
We left the wall before she could become more helpful.
The western outlet lay beyond the settlement near a low field filled with reeds. According to the old plans, Greykeep’s waste channels had once emptied into a series of settling pools. Layers of gravel, charcoal, sand, and wetland plants cleaned the water before it reached the river.
Most of the pools had vanished beneath dirt and weeds.
The channel leading to them had collapsed in five places.
Eleanor stood inside the exposed outlet, examining the false wall.
“This was deliberate,” she said when we arrived.
“Can we remove it?”
“Yes.”
“What happens when we do?”
“The original channel is blocked. Until we clear it, everything flows south.”
“So we need to clear five collapses first.”
“Six.”
“Mary said five.”
“I found another.”
“Of course.”
Construction units were already digging along the old route. Living workers followed them, inspecting every opened section and replacing damaged bricks.
I stepped toward the nearest collapse.
Eleanor blocked me.
“No.”
“I can clear it.”
“You can help with the third section after we reinforce it.”
“That will take hours.”
“Yes.”
“People are still using temporary trenches.”
“Yes.”
“The sickness could spread.”
“Yes.”
I waited.
She did not move.
“You are enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Aldren arrived carrying the drainage plans.
“We can divide the crews,” he said. “Human workers on the shallow sections. Civic units on the two deepest collapses. His Majesty can stabilize the central junction.”
Eleanor considered it.
Then she nodded.
“Approved.”
The nearest construct’s chest rotated.
“Civic plan recognized.”
Work began.
Evelyn removed her green coat and placed it across a fence.
I looked at her.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping.”
“You brought the supplies.”
“And now I am here. If the King is going to work, he needs a Queen beside him who will share the load.”
I smiled at the statement.
She joined the workers clearing reeds from the first treatment pool.
No one treated her like a visiting noblewoman.
A carpenter handed her a shovel.
She accepted it.
By sunset, the first two collapses had been cleared.
By midnight, we opened the central junction.
I held nearly forty feet of damaged tunnel in place while masons rebuilt the supports. Every few minutes, Eleanor ordered me to shift pressure or lower a section.
I obeyed.
Mostly.
At one point, I tried to repair a cracked section without telling her.
She struck the stone beside my hand with a hammer.
I stopped.
By dawn, clean water flowed through the first treatment pool.
Not drinking water.
Not yet.
But the channel no longer led toward the farms.
Workers removed the false wall.
The old sewer breathed for the first time in generations.
Air rushed through the tunnel. The sanitation guardians entered in groups, led by the enormous crowned rat.
Mary stood near the opening.
It paused beside her.
She held out no bread.
The rat waited.
“No.”
It lowered its head.
Mary sighed and removed a small piece from her bag.
The rat accepted it.
Then it disappeared into the tunnel.
Melody nodded wisely.
“Definitely her pet.”
Mary was too tired to argue.
The large construction unit approached us.
“Western waste network operating at twenty-three percent capacity.”
“That is much better than nine,” I said.
“Correct.”
“Can it serve the current population?”
“Temporarily.”
That word concerned me.
“For how long?”
“Estimated safe capacity will be exceeded in eighteen days at current population growth.”
Everyone looked toward the northern road.
Lanterns moved in the distance.
More travelers.
I rubbed my face.
Evelyn stood beside me, covered in mud and holding a shovel.
“Tomorrow evening?” she asked.
I looked at the approaching lights.
Then at the unfinished houses.
Then at her.
“Tomorrow evening,” I promised.
She smiled.
Behind us, the first completed longhouse opened its doors.
Families began carrying their belongings inside.
For one morning, at least, Greykeep had fewer people without roofs than it had the day before.
That was progress.
I was learning not to ask how long it would last.
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