King of Swords [ Regulus Black ]

Chapter 16

Riverina Fawley is waiting for me on the top floor of the Cielo Hotel in West London. The restaurant is fully decked out in gold-trimmed walls and ornate tapestries that depict Spanish forces of war and blushing brides. The hostess was pleased to see me, and I followed her to a crimson booth in a private corner.
I dressed to impress Riverina, a satin black ensemble with an emerald pin in my hair to match Barty's necklace.

A bottle of wine sits on the table, uncorked but full. Riverina is bathed in candlelight, looking every bit like one of the angels depicted on the wall behind her. She immediately stands to greet me, protectively grasping my forearm and lifting a hand to my cheek.

"Maslin is at Pembridge," she says, sliding back into her seat, "Merlin, what a mess."

I can tell she is genuinely exasperated; she forgets her French accent near the end. Her eyes widen in realization but I pretend not to notice.
The hostess pours me a glass of wine before she leaves. She is probably wondering why Merlin, of all people, would be taken in vain.

"Yeah, it was scary," I reply, taking a sip, "but we're alright. Ideally, this is a wake-up call. The ministry needs to act."

Riverina nods, caressing her delicate chin. She sits before me, but her eyes are far away. I don't know much about Riverina's true life before she met Haro, but I can see in her gaze that she has experienced more than she has been given credit for.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask her.

"Sometimes it just seems a bit silly, what we are doing," she says, "putting kings on a throne, offering them a staff and saying "please, spare our lives."

I have never heard her speak like this. Especially since the king in question would be her husband, she is not incorrect in her sentiment. The ministry has known of the Deatheater's movements for far longer than they have acted on them.

It occurs to me that perhaps being the queen of a castle does not absolve you of serving. Just as owning the title of kingmaker does not make my life any simpler, if anything, her higher rank would only force her throat to stick out further.

A waiter comes by and refills my glass. Riverina orders for both of us. She moves and speaks with such carefully cultivated grace. It is everything I could ever hope to be.

"Do you love Haro?" I ask once the waiter has gone. I don't know exactly why I inquire; the words just seem to spill from my mouth.

Riverina laughs flippantly, leaning back in her seat. She looks at me as if I have asked a silly question, but the creasing of her brow betrays her. We are both liars here, but it is the one thing I might be better than her at.

"I do," she says softly, "there are different types of love, you know. It is not always the storybook fairytale that we expect. Sometimes it is hard work and doesn't turn out the way you want it to."