A Bride for the Lost King

by Maisey Yates

  No. It was not home. The wood was home. Those were his people.

  By blood, he might be a Lirian, and for that he would have to atone. But in his soul, he knew who he was. These soft things were not his. These people were not his.

  This palace was not his home.

  Just as this land was not theirs.

  “Are you well?” she asked.

  She asked the question stiffly, and he could tell that she resented feeling anything about his mental state at all.

  “I am as I ever am,” he responded.

  “A nonanswer,” she said, her words clipped. “As ever.”

  “We are not friends, Agnes.”

  He could feel that land much harder than he’d intended. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he’d wanted to distance her.

  “I am aware of that, my Lord.”

  But there was no difference in her tone, and there was no affection either. He had broken something last night. But he was not the sort of man who had the capacity to regret it.

  The car pulled up to the front of the palace, and they got out.

  “Announce us,” he said to the man who had driven them. He wasted no time in obeying Lazarus’s command. And then the palace doors were open to them, wide, and the procession of staff came out, standing sentry along the lines of the high-gloss corridors.

  There was no army, no suspicion.

  The staff allowed him in simply because he had a genetic link to Alexius. Who believed that they were brothers, in spite of the years that stood between them.

  His own fault.

  He had advised him.

  Played the part of... Well, he had played the part of brother when Alexius and his Tinley had separated, and had told him to reconcile with her.

  Lazarus still felt what he’d told him then was true. He’d found a woman who loved him—something Lazarus himself never thought to have—and he should keep her.

  But it remained to be seen if they would have a long life together.

  Something was uncomfortable, pinching at his chest, and if he had been another man, he might’ve called it guilt. But he was not another man. And he could not be.

  He moved himself closer to Agnes, holding her arm in his, and Agnes, to her credit, remained serene. That warrior’s posture became something softer, more elegant. And yet, he could see in every line of her being that she was a fighter. He could only hope that his brother did not perceive the same thing he did.

  A man dressed all in black came to stand alongside them. “Allow me to announce you to His Highness,” he said.

  “Please do,” Lazarus responded.

  “And how shall I announce you?”

  “King Lazarus of the Wood,” he responded. “And Agnes.”

  The man went ahead of them, and Agnes’s shoulders wiggled. “And Agnes,” she repeated, in a poor imitation of his voice and accent, in his opinion.

  “I’m sorry, do you have an issue?”

  “I’ve no title,” she responded. “I am Agnes, warrior of the wood, sworn protector of the King.”

  “You are not,” he said. “Not here. And anyway, I was given the impression that you had abdicated your position.”

  “Yes. Though I will still be fulfilling it here.”

  “Agnes, my fiancée, and nothing more.”

  She looked flattened by that, and he tried not to care.

  A moment later, the two of them were ushered into the throne room. Alexius did not sit on a throne, and neither did Tinley, his fiancée. Rather, they were sitting in what looked to be a regular, casual receiving area, plush and welcoming. There were trays of sweets, and he stole a glance at Agnes, who was looking pleased by this development.

  “Brother,” Alexius said, standing. His older brother was nearly his height, possessing more of a lean strength than Lazarus’s own. Tinley was petite, with massive amounts of red hair. She was soft. She had a cat sitting on her lap.

  Agnes saw the creature, a line pleating between her brows, as her mouth turned down into a frown. It was exceedingly Agnes to be confused by the cat.

  “I’m glad that you came,” Alexius said. “We have so much to discuss.”

  “Thank you for the invitation,” Lazarus said. “I’m newly engaged, and it is good for Agnes and I to spend time here. Good that she gets to know you as well.”

  “I saw that,” Alexius said. “Very newly engaged. As it was in the news this morning.”

  “A resurrection and an engagement. A big month for me.”

  Alexius chuckled. “Indeed. Come, brother, we have much to discuss. We can leave Tinley and Agnes to get to know one another.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  AGNES HAD A feeling that was her cue to sit, but she found she did not want to. She was fractured still from last night, and the plane ride with Lazarus had done nothing to make it better. The way that he had touched her mouth... And the way that he insisted on continuing to bring up her... Shattering. And now she was here, talking to this woman they were intent on betraying. This woman who had a... A cat.

  That she kept as a pet.

  “You can sit,” Tinley said, smiling brightly.

  “Thank you,” Agnes said.

  She took a seat as far away from the cat as possible.

  “Are you allergic to cats?” Tinley asked. “Because I can send him out.”

  “Oh, there’s no need. It’s only that... It is strange to me. That there should be an animal indoors.”

  And cats frightened her. They were disconcerting. And this one, called Algie, had large yellow eyes that made her feel seen.

  But she would not say that.

  “Oh, yes. Alexius finds it strange also, but I do not give him a choice.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “You tell him what to do?”

  Tinley smiled happily. “Yes. Occasionally. I have many animals inside the palace. He does not like it. They had their own room. They were not allowed in ours. Though, there are often exceptions made. When I wish them to be made.”

  “Lazarus is not quite so malleable.”

  “I wouldn’t call Alex malleable,” Tinley said. “Only that he is more so now than he was when I first came to live at the palace. By which I mean when I was a child.”

  “You are much younger than him,” Agnes said.

  “Yes. I was engaged to his brother. His... His younger brother... Younger than Lazarus.”

  “Yes,” Agnes said. “I know of him. The one who was killed.”

  “Yes,” Tinley said.

  She looked sad, though it was not heartbroken sort of grief.

  “Are you in love with Alex?” Agnes asked.

  She wondered, because Lazarus had been moved by their connection. She wondered, because Alexius shared blood with Lazarus.

  And in spite of herself, Agnes loved him.

  “Yes,” Tinley said. “It became clear to me later that I always was. Always. It was only that... I did have a great deal of affection for his brother. I still feel badly about what happened. Very sad. But I recognize now that I did not love him like that, and never would have. We would not have... We would not have worked.”

  “You can be certain about that?”

  “A certain as I can be about anything. Alex was the one I was always meant for. I don’t think Dionysus had to die in order for that to be so. I fear rather we would’ve collapsed a monarchy with our need to be together eventually. But fortunately, that did not have to be. I mean... Unfortunately... You know.”

  “Yes,” she said. She thought of the many fortunate unfortunate things that had to occur in order for her to be in Lazarus’s life.

  Though, she was not certain now how fortunate she was. No. She only felt mean toward him at the moment.

  And this woman... In spite of her cat... She was very nice, and she found that disconcerting. All things
considered.

  “How long will you be staying with us? Of course you are welcome to stay as long as you like. There are other houses on the grounds. You could stay in the palace, or you could stay at some of the estates.”

  “Whatever it is Lazarus wishes.”

  Tinley tilted her head to the side. “How do you know my brother-in-law?”

  Agnes figured that in situations such as this the answer that was closest to the truth was likely the best.

  “He saved my life,” she said. “And I... I have loved him ever since.”

  The words sat in the room and seemed to fill the space. She had never admitted this out loud before. She had no one to admit it to.

  But they were true.

  And they resonated in her soul as they did from the walls around her.

  She loved him, and she felt no shame in it. Not here. It was part of her, as was her loyalty to him.

  “You are younger than he is,” she said, turning that question that Agnes had asked back around on her.

  “Yes,” Agnes confirmed. “I am. But he has long been my protector, and he is... He is a man of honor.”

  “And you love him,” Tinley said.

  “More than anything in the world.”

  And the thing she hated most of all was that it seemed very close to the truth of the matter.

  Even as she was angry. Even if she was sitting here next to a cat.

  It was soon that Alexius and Lazarus returned. “You may stay as long as you like,” Alex said. “I have offered Lazarus the east wing of the palace. It is both of yours, if you wish.”

  “My thanks,” Lazarus said. “I look forward to our getting to know one another. To this restoration.”

  And Agnes knew that there was truth beneath those words. But the restoration that Lazarus had a vision of was hardly what Alexius would be expecting.

  “I would join you for dinner tonight, but I have an engagement in England I cannot escape. Instead, I will have something special laid out for you and your fiancée.”

  Agnes’s stomach tightened. How many more special dinners could she possibly endure with Lazarus? Particularly if they ended in sword fights. Which ended in...

  “Much appreciated.”

  Lazarus paused. “Make sure that the spread is heavy on sweets. My fiancée has a fondness for cake.”

  He took her arm and led her from the sitting room, moving toward what she assumed was the east wing. She had never seen any place this grand. It was a palace that seemed to be built from foundational stones of the earth. Old and filled with history, layered over the top with precious gems. It was true there were riches in the forest, but it was different than this.

  “Here it is,” he said. “My inheritance, as it were.”

  “It is a beautiful palace.”

  “Exactly as I remember it,” he said, his voice taking a dark turn. “Shining and glittering. I thought that perhaps it was a trick of my imagination. For no place could... No place could be quite this grand.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is so,” he said. “And yet... It is also real. This place. I was happy here.”

  She stopped walking. She had never heard him speak of his family in that way. He didn’t speak of them at all. He spoke of it in matter-of-fact terms. How he had once been a prince of Liri, but then had gone into the wood.

  But he did not speak of it with softness. And even now, she wouldn’t call it... She wouldn’t exactly call it softness. It was something more. But there was emotion to this, and that was something he did not typically demonstrate. The corridors were long, and suddenly the glitter seemed to take on a sinister aspect.

  “Yes,” he said. “My rooms were here.”

  That statement hit her full in the chest. It wasn’t the place that was darker, it was his mood.

  Deeply so.

  And of course. For this had been the place that he... That he’d started his life, the place that he had lost forever after he had wandered away.

  And suddenly, she felt a deep kinship to him, and she had never experienced that before at all. And she didn’t know why she should. Because she hadn’t started life in a palace, but it was simply... Perhaps it was simply knowing that there was something you should have that you did not. A loyalty from your parents that you should have that didn’t exist. A sense of home that you were denied.

  They might be from very different backgrounds; they might be from very different places, but that was the same.

  It was the same.

  The bedchambers that had been appointed to them were definitely not children’s rooms, and the splendor of them stole her breath, took her focus away from the sadness that had lodged itself in her chest at least.

  It was so opulent. But the large bed at the center of the space was what made her heart freeze.

  “Do not worry,” he said, his voice dripping with humor. Very dark humor. “I am accustomed to sleeping on rocks, Agnes. The bed is yours.”

  “I am also strong enough to withstand a few nights on the floor.”

  “Excellent. Perhaps we might both curl up on the floor as animals, both to prove the point to one another, and the bed can sit there unused, soft and utterly wasted.”

  “I shall do what I please, in the end. I shall do as pleases myself from here on out.”

  “Yes. The emancipation of Agnes has been quite proclaimed.”

  “It is as you commanded.”

  “I did not command you to leave entirely. Of course, I will not stop you from doing so, but I am very aware that you dishonor the pact which we have made.”

  “I dishonor nothing,” she said.

  “So be it. You will also continue to fulfill this role as I see fit. My brother has said that we are allowed use of this entire facility. Indeed, he has suggested that you and I make use of the baths prior to our dinner. Apparently, it is to be an exquisite affair. One set up on the terrace, well lit and brilliant. A reminder, I’m certain, of all the opulence that I missed growing up.”

  “He likes you. Don’t you feel any guilt about that?”

  She might feel some pity for Lazarus, but it was just impossible. To be here and be around Alexius and Tinley and not feel a certain measure of guilt. How was this not a con? Tricking people. Fooling them. Gaining their trust and breaking it.

  She had done it countless times as a child with her father.

  Stealing people’s money. But worse, stealing their trust. Stealing their hope.

  Creating a world where people would not be as generous, because she had been part of taking advantage of it.

  She had made the world a worse place in the first sixteen years of her life, and she might not have been in charge of the scenarios, but it was all the same in the end. The outcome was the same. In this...

  What if he did kill Alexius?

  What if he broke all these people who simply had the misfortune of descending from a people that had committed gross acts. What if there was another way?

  And they weren’t looking for it because the easiest way was the path of the sword?

  The easiest way was the path of lies?

  And here they were, taking advantage of this hospitality and pretending to mean things to each other that they did not.

  “What?”

  “He trusts you,” she said. “He trusts you, and he wishes to be a brother to you. I do not approve of this.”

  She loved her home in the wood. She loved the people there. She felt loyalty to him, but first her loyalty was to Lazarus, and his very soul.

  And to honor.

  She could not find the honor here.

  “This is our moment,” he said. “Our chance to take hold of that which has been denied us all this time. Is it not worthy, Agnes? Are you too good? Perhaps that is because it is not truly your right.”

 
“That isn’t it. It’s not what I think. I just think... You are not your great-grandfather, any more than Alexius is. Maybe there’s a way to restore what our people are owed without bloodshed. Maybe there’s a way where you can still be brothers.”

  “I do not believe that such a thing is possible.”

  “Only because you were not given a path to that way. But perhaps you have to make your own.”

  “What makes you an expert? You, Agnes, who have no family name, because you have no family.”

  She gritted her teeth. “I am an expert because anytime I am emulating a behavior that my father would have engaged in, then I can be most certain that it is wrong. My father was always a coward. He always took the route of least resistance. The least amount of work. He wanted nothing more than his own comfort, and he cared nothing for the needs of others. Do you know why? Because it is hard. It is hard to try to get what you deserve, and be concerned with your own morality. And my father never did anything that was hard. Ever. Perhaps I believe that you are strong enough to do hard things. The more I find myself feeling as if I am engaging in another low-level con as my father would’ve done, the more I am certain that this cannot be the answer.”

  The look he gave her was filled with iron. And she had the sense that had she been anyone but Agnes he would not have allowed her to speak in such a fashion. In fact he would not allow her to speak at all.

  “You speak of things you don’t understand,” he said. “You live because I rescued you. You exist because of the help that I have given. Help that your father did not give you. You dare compare me to him? You dare compare me to him when you know full well that he died and left you alone, while I thought nothing of risking myself to elevate you. What I do is not for my own personal enrichment, but for honor. But for the restoration of the people. But to heal the scars of the nation. That is why I do what I do. If you cannot understand that, so be it. And if you must leave now, then leave.”

  Fear slammed into her chest. “I will not leave,” she said.

  The small note of terror in her voice seemed to call her a liar. All of the stances that she had taken since last night, her proclamations that she would strike out on her own... What did they mean? They might as well have been notes written on paper and cast into the wind for all that they mattered. For she had proven now that she feared—deeply—that future without him.