The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  “Well, you cannot help rumours,” Gyles said, throwing his hands up, “but you can take a lesson from this.”

  Riffin half-shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head, “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “You want to be a good King, don’t you?” he asked, looking him up and down.

  Riffin nodded curtly, eyelashes fluttering as he rolled his eyes. Of course he did. Never had there been a moment in which he rebelled against the thought of being King. His mother had raised him to embrace the responsibility—to embrace the good and the bad that came with being a leader. Never had his desire to take on the role come into question before, not by his mother, and not by anyone she held dear to her.

  “If you’re to be a good King you must learn to pre-empt such situations,” Gyles said. “For every move that is made, for every moment in your life, imagine what the words on the streets will be. Imagine how the stories that can be stirred will be used and learn to use this to your advantage.”

  “And this?” he asked, unable to help the anger in his tone. “How do you suppose I fix this?”

  “What do you want?” Gyles asked, shrugging his shoulders. Riffin recoiled, shoulders slackening and his skin going cold, a shiver working its way down his spine. “Your silence on the matter has given the impression that you don’t care for what your mother decides when it comes to your marriage. The fact that you’re here, interrupting my dinner, tells me otherwise.”

  Frustrated by the roundabout manner in which Gyles conducted himself, Lukas sighed, hanging his head, “Speak with your mother,” he said.

  Riffin blinked the sting of emotion from his eyes. “Do you think she will listen?” he asked.

  Lukas retreated into his seat, looking to his partner to reply. Gyles shrugged his shoulders, opening his upturned hands over the armrests of his chair, “I suppose your ability to negotiate, as a future King, will be tested,” he said.

  “And if I fail?” he asked. “What then?”

  “You’re going to have failures,” Gyles said. “Maybe not in this necessarily but you will have failures. Accept it and move forward.”

  Riffin shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he gave his words some thought. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, meeting Gyles’ gaze, “I can always trust you to give good advice, uncle,” he said. He turned on his heel, making his way out of the room with a brief wave over his shoulder, “Enjoy your meal,” he said, departing with a heavy mind.

  Chapter 2

  RIFFIN’S HEELS CLICKED AGAINST the stone floors in the palace as he hurried through the corridors in the early hours of the morning. Adjusting the collar on his shirt and jacket along the way, he ran his fingers through his dark hair, seeing to it that he was as presentable as he could manage considering he had only just stumbled out of bed. As the doors of the dining room were opened for him, he stormed through with a sigh, much of it concealed by the guard at the door announcing his arrival.

  The lavish spread had already been laid out across the long dining table. His mother sat at the head, his father to her right, his half-sister beside him. They dined on their morning meal in relative silence, a thing he disturbed with his sudden entrance.

  Not even looking up from the parchment in her hands, his mother spoke, “You’re late.”

  “My ship was delayed coming in,” Riffin said, seating himself in his place across from his father.

  The Queen hummed in understanding, “Yes,” she mused aloud, “but whose fault was it that its departure was delayed in the first place? Could an impromptu visit to your uncle have been the cause?”

  Riffin clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “You’ve heard about that then,” he murmured, cocking his head to one side.

  Neyva laughed softly and a smile tugged at his mother’s lips. “You would be surprised to learn all that I have heard,” the Queen retorted, never lifting her gaze to meet his.

  Riffin took a deep breath, reaching across the table for a bread roll. He bit the inside of his cheek, choosing his words carefully, “On that subject,” he started, “there is a matter I would like to discuss with you once we are done here.”

  “Trouble in Azura?” Neyva asked, looking up from her food. Riffin tore his attention from his meal and looked to his sister. She looked more and more like his mother every day. While she didn’t carry a drop of his mother’s blood in her veins, she carried his mother’s influence, learning from her in the ways of being a woman worthy of being taken seriously when she spoke.

  At the sound of a potential problem, she sat tall and poised, boasting an air of elegance and strength. She was ready to tackle any problem head on, to search for a resolution, and to make herself an asset to their kingdom—raised by a Queen, he had no doubt she had the capabilities to do it.

  “No,” Riffin replied quickly, feeling his parents’ eyes on him, “no, not at all.”

  Sensing the intensity of the gazes upon him, the curiosity that stirred between their parents, Neyva’s lips tugged into a cheeky grin, breaking her dutiful persona, “Trouble in the love life then?” she asked, teasingly.

  There was the temptation to roll his eyes, even as he was grateful for her change of subject, “No,” he retorted.

  He looked to his mother from beneath his lashes and an understanding passed between them with ease. “We will discuss it once we are finished here,” she said.

  He nodded, subtle as it may have appeared when all he wanted to be capable of was exuding confidence. Nobles he could manage, his sister he could manage, but his mother and father... They were a strength of another calibre, one that he hoped he would be capable of matching when the time came.

  His mother licked her lips, placing her papers down, paying them a lingering glance as she forked her food and brought it to her lips. “How is your uncle?” she asked.

  “He appears well,” Riffin said, nodding. Their meeting had been brief but he seemed well-enough, he thought. “Although, I must confess, I didn’t meet with him long enough to gather much from him.”

  “Just enough to see to it that you were late to your ship, of course,” Neyva said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

  Riffin glanced at her from beneath his lashes, glaring, only for her to stick her tongue out at him from across the table. As quickly as that, the dutifulness of a Lady in front of her future monarch disappeared in favour of a sister in front of her brother. “And you?” he asked, leaning forward. “How do your humble territories fare, Lady Darner?”

  “They fare well, thank you for asking,” Neyva retorted, just a touch of bite in her tone. “The mining industry continues to flourish there.”

  “And you have not had any trouble?” he asked. “Surely you’ve received much attention because of it.”

  Neyva raised a brow at him, leaning back into her seat. That tall, regal posture that she had developed from years of standing beside his mother, had returned. “There’ve been a few newcomers, coming along and disrupting a few matters, but nothing that I can say has been troubling.”

  Riffin sat back in his seat, lips pursed together as he nodded, “Good,” he said. Neyva seemed to relax in her seat, if only for a second, thrown by his lack of a more fighting response. He smiled and, then, so did she. There were no hard feelings between them—there never were.

  “When will you be leaving again?” Queen Sybelle asked, looking to Neyva.

  “Tomorrow night,” she replied. “I wouldn’t like to be away for too long.”

  “You needn’t be away so much,” Deros said, chiding, “nor should you be coming and going nearly as often as you are.”

  Riffin looked to his mother out of the corner of his eye. She sat back, watching the exchanges between them in silence. As much of an influence that the Queen was on Neyva, raising her ever since she was a child, she never forgot her place—she wasn’t the girl’s mother and never pushed herself to advise her as such.

  “I am there just as much as you were in
Warren,” Neyva said, looking to her father. “The Evradian lands, the Evradian people, are a delicate matter, much like Warren was after the war. I pay my lands the same amount of attention that you did and will continue to do so until they are stable.”

  Deros opened his mouth to counter her argument, only to have the Queen speak over him, “She’s right,” she said. Deros looked over his shoulder, raising his brow at her. The Queen shrugged her shoulders, reclining further into her seat, “She knows the place best,” she said, “and if she feels that such attentions are necessary then she should be trusted to pursue it.” Deros’s glare in her direction only strengthened. The Queen cocked her head to the side, speaking in a softer tone, “Trust that you raised our children well,” she said. “I do.”

  The Queen rose from her meal once she was finished, as did everybody else. “If you wish to speak with me,” she said, casting a glance over her shoulder, “now would be the time to do it.”

  Riffin grabbed a bread roll from the table, hurrying as she and his father walked ahead of him down the long corridors. He devoured his breakfast on his way to the throne room, the roll doing little to settle his discontented stomach as he thought about all he was going to say.

  Queen Sybelle lowered herself into her throne, eyeing him with a growing suspicion and unease. When he didn’t make a move to speak, her brows twitched—she was torn between showing concern like a mother and remaining impartial as a Queen. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  Riffin shifted with unease, fingers tightening behind his back as he stood tall and proud, befitting of the son of a Queen. He attempted to choose his words carefully, only to draw a blank. “It’s on the subject of marriage,” he said.

  He tore his eyes away from the ground to meet his mother’s own. He had seen that look on her face before; the way she tried to stifle even the faintest smile of amusement—it made itself apparent on a number of occasions. She would succeed in keeping it from her lips but not her eyes, a twinkle of delight evident within the darkness of her stare. “And what of it?” she asked, her voice never betraying her.

  “Rumours have gone around that news of my engagement will come about any day now,” he said.

  She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, “Rumours are—”

  “Hardly worth being concerned about, I know,” he said, resisting rolling his eyes. He’d heard it countless times before and, having heard it again the previous night, doing so again did little to ease his mind. “Only these rumours hurt those closest to me and cannot be ignored.”

  Queen Sybelle’s eyes narrowed, “What is this about?” she asked.

  Riffin concealed his deep breath as he shifted his weight, glancing at his feet before asking, “Do you have a wife decided for me?”

  “A marriage is necessary to—”

  “That is not what I asked,” he said, meeting her gaze. He wasn’t scared to cut her off—not about this, and not when there was so much at stake.

  Queen Sybelle shifted in her seat, reclining before looking down her nose at him. “I do not,” she replied.

  “Then, with an impending marriage being necessary, and without a suitor in the mind of Your Majesty, I would like to make a suggestion.”

  “A suggestion of a bride?” she asked, a grin now growing on her lips. She looked to his father; the once serious man had broken out into a smile, doing his utmost to hide it by bowing his head.

  “My feelings for her haven’t changed in all these years,” Riffin said, speaking loudly over his mother’s gentle laughter. “She is a good person, smart and brave with a comparable education. She is not of noble birth but she comes from a good family, one that has proven their loyalty to us time and time again. That is a fact you cannot argue against.”

  “I would not even dream of it,” she agreed.

  “Then allow me to marry her,” he said. He licked his lips as a flurry of words filled his mouth, “If I must marry to produce heirs then let me marry her.”

  His father sighed, “It is never just a matter of producing heirs,” he countered.

  “No,” he agreed, looking to his father. “Marriages are a matter of power and alliances and, as it stands we are the most powerful family on the continent and we have Ludorum and pirates as allies. A marriage is not necessary because we already have all there is to gain from one.”

  “That is a bold claim to make,” Queen Sybelle said with a laugh.

  “It is,” Riffin replied, nodding in agreement. “However, even if it were untrue, there is still an advantage to be found in the fact that it is a safe and secure match.”

  “Because you love each other,” she supplied.

  It wasn’t even worthy of a moment of thought. “Because we love each other,” he agreed.

  Queen Sybelle licked her lips thoughtfully, her fingers returning to the armrests of her throne to drum against the lion heads that at their helm.

  The silence between them was deafening, enough to create a greater sense of unease within him than he thought possible. He shook out his hands behind his back before clenching them into fists, doing everything in his power to keep from biting his lip out of nervousness. His heart practically rattled inside of his chest, a tell of his nervousness that he couldn’t conceal. Still, stubborn just as both his parents were, he refused to show them any of it.

  Eventually, his mother relaxed in her seat and her shoulders dropped. “I will allow it,” she said. “Not because anything is as secure as you claim,” she added before he could so much as consider breathing a sigh of relief, “but because my rule will be made infinitely more comfortable with my heir acting with me rather than against me.”

  Riffin cleared his throat, nodding. “You will not regret the decision,” he said, sternly, trying his utmost to keep from grinning.

  “I would hope not,” she nodded. “You will do this right; you will speak with her parents first and then you will speak to her. You will make it clear it is a request, one she will go through with only if she desires, and that, by no means, is it a command.”

  “Of course,” he agreed, bowing his head.

  “There will be other matters to deal with first,” his mother added, reclining in her seat. “Matters of politics,” she clarified at the sight of his confusion.

  “Of course,” Riffin said, lower this time.

  His father cleared his throat, inserting himself into the discussion. “You have been called to Ludorum,” he said. “My family is offended that you have not visited at all since taking on royal duties.”

  “Offended?” Riffin asked, raising his brow. He had grown up visiting his father’s family regularly, playing on the grounds and dining in their halls as though they were home. Even with Ludorum’s status as an ally, however, he also grew up knowing that Ludorum was still to be kept at arm’s length.

  “They simply wish to see you,” his mother said. “It may be a good opportunity to announce your intentions to marry.”

  Riffin cocked his head to one side, supposing she was right. “Is that all?” he asked.

  His mother looked to her husband; understanding passed between them, enough for Riffin to realise that this wasn’t the end of this discussion. “For now,” she said. “But your father and I need to discuss this. While I will not go back on my word, we may need to make plans. As always, there is a price to be paid for not making a political decision and we must discern what that is.”

  Riffin bit the inside of his cheek, digesting her words. “Of course,” he said, clearing his throat.

  She slackened in her seat, cocking her chin at the door, “Go,” she said. “You will be summoned when you are needed.”

  Riffin’s mouth fell open for a moment, unable to say anything that would keep him from getting dismissed before he could hear more of her intentions. He closed it promptly, swallowing the lump that had formed in the back of his throat, and bowed. He turned on his heel and left, walking down the corridors in a daze until he made it out the front door and into the square.r />
  Thane glanced over his shoulder from where he sat on the step, squinting up at him in the sunlight, “Did you get it?” he asked. Riffin’s mouth opened, brows furrowed together in confusion as to his own reply. Thane scoffed, “You don’t look enraged but you don’t look pleased,” he said. He rose to his feet, shifting to stand in Riffin’s path, “What happened?” he asked.

  Riffin licked his lips, swallowing, “My mother agreed to the marriage,” he said.

  Thane chuckled, clapping a hand on his shoulder, “That’s good, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Riffin blinked and met his gaze, “She alluded to a price,” he said, “and I haven’t the slightest idea what that might be.”

  Chapter 3

  THE JOURNEY TO LUDORUM was uneventful—just as boring as it always was and just as much of a reminder of why Riffin had avoided making more regular visits. He hopped out of the carriage with a familiar discomfort in his leg after hours upon hours of being seated, sighing as he looked up at Ludorum’s imposing castle.

  “Best behaviour, I believe your mother said,” Thane murmured at his side.

  Riffin hummed in agreement putting on his best smile as the doors were opened and his distant relatives stepped out into the light.

  Prince Pietros hurried down the steps with his usual enthusiasm, a smile growing on his features. “Welcome back, cousin,” he greeted with open arms.

  “It is good to see you,” Riffin said. It was a stiff phrase, one that he had spoken a million times before, the way he greeted most people he didn’t wish to find himself in the company of. However, there was some truth in it—at least with Pietros. Of the entire family, seeing Pietros was always a delight. With his warm and cheerful nature, there were certain moments in which the older man had made difficult social events tolerable. Pietros was nothing like his brother, the King that had yet to make an appearance. Pietros was dutiful and loyal, but he wasn’t nearly as frigid and duty-bound as his brother.