The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  Chapter 5

  “WE CANNOT SAY WE didn’t see it coming,” Jared remarked.

  Riffin swallowed thickly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ve always cared for her,” he said. “I’ve always been clear that my intentions were good.”

  “If it is what she wants, how can I not allow it?” Jared asked, shrugging his shoulders, chuckling helplessly.

  There was one way. One reason. Riffin and Jared looked to Kara. She was stood by the window, casting her gaze elsewhere, chewing into her bottom lip as her nails dug into her arms.

  Riffin looked to Jared for a moment, seeking his silent permission before approaching his wife. Swallowing the lump of nerves that had formed in the back of his throat, he licked his lips and braved his words. “Do you doubt me?” he asked. As soft as his voice may have been, he quickly recognised how his words, spoken by a man of power, could be misconstrued, taken as a taunt. “If you doubt me, if you doubt my intentions towards her, say the word and I will let this all go,” he said.

  It would hurt to do it—beyond anything he had ever endured. But he would postpone all plans for marriage as long as he could with the hope that he would be able to win her approval—doing it any other way would break his heart.

  She sighed heavily, “I don’t doubt you—not now,” she said.

  Riffin licked his lips, shifting his weight, “I don’t know what happened to you,” he started. “I always wanted to know, to be able to understand, but my mother never said a word, out of respect and loyalty to somebody she considers a close friend.”

  Kara’s cheeks burned a deep scarlet, a colour to rival that of her hair as it shone in the sunlight.

  “All I have gathered is that...a man that held your trust, broke it, did things he should never have done.” He bit the inside of his cheek, restraining himself at the sight of anger and hurt that welled up in her eyes. “I don’t imagine you the type to choose such a man, no matter how young, so, I reckon, he gained your trust, your affection, and then turned into the monster that haunts you—did all that he could when you had no choice but to stand for it.”

  He had never confronted her about his, never thought it his place to bring it up or to even allude to his own suspicions when she was a woman and he was a child. But now was the time, a moment in which it was the most appropriate—most necessary to do so.

  “I can understand; you don’t want her to endure what you have,” he whispered. “If that is your reason then I cannot fault it.” He pursed his lips together and glanced, briefly, out the window. “But look at her,” he said, admiration in his voice. “Look at the girl you raised.”

  Malia was stood in the front garden, standing poised and elegant, all the while determined as she practiced her archery, striking the target hanging from the tree with an almost frightful precision.

  He smirked, “Does she look like a woman that will tolerate what you did?” Kara laughed, the back of her fingers coming up to her mouth in her attempt to stifle the crack of a sob that worked its way through. “You raised a woman who will not take shit from anybody—who will concede to no one—not even a King,” he said, “and that is just the woman I want by my side.”

  Kara looked up at him. It was his turn for his voice to crack, “It’s a frightening thing to be a King; my mother found herself without anyone when she took the throne. I wish to have another beside me, to challenge me to think, to keep me in line…” He pulled himself back, looking out the window again, watching as Malia stopped to talk to Thane. Her profile was breathtaking, simultaneously strong and elegant. “I’m in need of a wife, that is certain, and I need one soon. If it’s not her, my mother will push for it to be someone else and… I’m not sure if I can live the rest of me life married to a woman, only to find myself dreaming of another.”

  “I allow it,” Kara whispered, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  The desire to leap with joy needed to be quelled. Riffin braced himself, swallowing his laughter of relief, keeping the smile from his face, “Don’t say it if you’re not sure,” he said.

  Kara shook her head and cast another glance out the window. Her lips pulled into an unmistakable smile, “It’s as you said,” she whispered, “she’s a strong woman—one that will never let me hear the end of it if I have any part in keeping you from one another.”

  Riffin finally allowed the happiness to well up inside of him, a sigh of relief escaping him as he broke into a smile. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I will not disappoint you.”

  Kara laughed softly, “The only way you can disappoint me is if she’s no longer happy,” she said, “and, if that happens, I’m sure she’ll make you suffer all by herself.”

  Riffin chuckled, nodding curtly. “I’m sure of it,” he said.

  One last glance in Malia’s direction and he found he was unable to control himself for much longer. “May I?” he asked, looking from Kara to Jared.

  Jared looked to the door and Kara cocked her chin in Malia’s direction. He didn’t need anymore words.

  Riffin rushed out into the front gardens, his heart thudding noisily inside his chest. He licked his lips as he approached her. As she spun to face him, her hair flying about her face in the breeze, he extended his hand to her. She lowered her bow, placing her hand in his and allowing him to draw her in closer.

  “Will you marry me?” he asked, kissing the back of her fingers.

  She stared at him, her fingers clasped in his. “They’ve allowed it?” she asked, a smile breaking onto her face, stifled only in her efforts to quell any disappointment.

  “They have,” he said, relief flooding his voice. “Only if you would have me, of course,” he added.

  Malia pursed her lips together, nodding, unable to bring her thoughts to voice for a moment. “Yes,” she said.

  Riffin grinned and revelled in the sound of her giggles, brushing the tip of his nose against hers before their lips met in a quick, passionate kiss.

  As they withdrew, their arms around one another, Riffin caught sight of the couple in the window. With Jared’s arms wrapped around Kara’s waist, his lips in her dark red hair, Riffin could only hope that their love could be as strong as theirs. He hoped, above all, that it would withstand all that his parents, and Malia’s parents, had, and that it would prove itself to be a strength to rival that of anybody who dared deny them.

  ***

  That evening, Riffin sat in his uncle’s drawing room. Sat by the fireplace, staring into the flames, he sipped his drink and slipped further down his seat as the hours ticked past.

  “For a man who seems to have gotten everything he’s wanted, you don’t look very happy,” his uncle remarked.

  Riffin glanced over his shoulder. He didn’t smile, didn’t nod or shake his head. For a moment, he said and did nothing.

  Gyles got closer, eventually seating himself in the chair across from him. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  Riffin scoffed and shook his head, “It’s like you said,” he declared, “I got everything I wanted.”

  Gyles chuckled, “And?” he prompted.

  Riffin shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. He brushed his bottom lip with the back of his fingers, giving his words some thought. “Now what?” he asked. Gyles raised his brows at him, confused. “I’ve spent the last few weeks fighting for this and, now that I have it—”

  “You’re not sure you want it?” he asked.

  Riffin shook his head, “It’s not that,” he said. “I love her—I do,” he added, quickly. “I always have done.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Gyles asked, softer this time. Riffin shrunk back further into his seat, overwhelmed by the uneasy sensation working itself deep into the pit of his stomach. Gyles leaned forward in his seat, taking him somewhat by surprise. The look in his eyes was unmistakable. It was a look he had given him countless times while growing up. Filled with tenderness and understanding, a friendliness and compassion that was unmistakable, it was no wonde
r that his mother held him in such high regard. “I have a loyalty to that family,” he said, “but I also have a loyalty to you.” He lowered his voice, no ounce of judgement within it, “If you wish to tell me something—”

  “What if I’m not doing the right thing?” he asked. “What if—What if King Niles was right?”

  Gyles’s brows furrowed together, “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “What if King Niles is right? What if there is no place for heart in this?”

  “’This?’” Gyles asked, quietly. “Being heir to the throne?” he asked.

  Riffin pursed his lips together, nodding.

  “Did your mother not strike a balance?” Gyles shook his head, sighing. He threw himself back into his seat, his gaze growing harder, “And what if you don’t do this?” he asked. “And what if, despite that, the outcome is no better?”

  Riffin shifted, tearing his eyes from his uncle to look into the fire, watching as the flames flickered and danced.

  “To be King means making decisions and standing beside them,” he said. “That includes knowing why you made those decisions to begin with and what they meant to you at the time.”

  Riffin’s eyelids fell shut. What if he wasn’t capable of it? What if he was to spend the rest of his life thinking about the path that he hadn’t taken?

  “Your mother has made those decisions time and time again,” he said. “She has made decisions and, when graced with better days, she has wondered if the outcome would have been the same, had she made a different choice.”

  Riffin scoffed, looking back to his uncle, “Like her brother,” he said. There was no judgement there, only a touch of bitterness.

  His namesake had died because of, what his mother would call, her own weakness. Had she been a more capable fighter, had she been a more capable leader, had she been a better politician, had she been a better tactician...

  “Your mother made a choice,” he said, “and not a day has gone by when she hasn’t belittled herself because of it. But she does recall why she made that choice. She knows why that choice was necessary. She understands what it meant.”

  Riffin had never doubted her for it. She had been forthcoming about it from the start. She often told him stories of her little brother, told him of the fate that he met at her own hand, and why she had done it. He had sat there, marvelling at the tears in her eyes; she blamed herself, there was no denying it, and, of all the deaths she had inflicted, it was the one that tormented her the most.

  “You love her,” he said, “and there’s no risk to marrying her that is negated by not doing so. Stand beside your choice—whatever becomes of it.”

  Riffin looked elsewhere. He ran his fingers through his hair, gritting his teeth. An overwhelming feeling of dread weighed itself down on him. He licked his lips, “I don’t think I have the same strength as my mother,” he said.

  Gyles smirked. “Your mother thought the same when she was your age,” he said. “You’ll find it when the time comes.” He pulled himself out of his seat, moving to leave the room.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Gyles spun on his heel, walking backwards out the door, “Because you’re your mother’s son,” he said, “and, were that not enough, there’s a fair bit of your father in you also. That’s all you need.”

  Before he could leave, Riffin had one more question, one that came tumbling from his lips before he had even a moment to consider it. “How does she do it?” he asked. “How does she live with the decisions she’s made?”

  Gyles didn’t turn around this time, halting, staring at the door in front of him. It was then that loyalty to his friend, his Queen, and his love, and need to guide, for the boy he considered his nephew, collided. “One day at a time,” he replied.

  Chapter 6

  SUCKING IN A DEEP breath, Malia stepped out of the carriage, marvelling up at the palace in Lionessa. She had been here so many times before, and yet, it never felt as big or as imposing as it did now. Never had she felt so small and insignificant before—so very unworthy in the face of something so notorious.

  The doors opened almost immediately and she could make out Riffin’s figure jogging down the corridor to meet her. The smile on his face, bright and joyful, was enough to bury her concerns—at least for the moment. His hands cupped her face with a tender touch, his lips brushing hers in a way that made chills run down her spine, all the while encasing her in warmth and care. “I’m so happy to see you,” he whispered.

  She laughed softly, taken by his words.

  The intimacy of the moment was gone. He took her by the hand and led her through the corridors of the palace. She rushed to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with him, lifting her skirt in one hand and taking long strides to match his own.

  “I’ve had your chambers decorated as you may like them,” he declared, a touch of excitement in his tone.

  A guard opened the door to a room beside the one she had often shared with her parents and the fresh scent of lavender hit her as soon as she entered. The room, though never having known it to be in use, wasn’t drab or stuffy. The room was bright and the air felt as clean as walking through a field after the rain, fresh and fragrant and everything she was used to.

  The curtains were open, providing warm, golden light to splay across the floor. The sunlight caused the chandelier overhead to twinkle, its gentle white light shining on the walls. She took a step inside to examine the room more closely, running her fingers along soft wood of her dressing table, touching the small silver ornate pieces that decorated it.

  “It’s not much but it is temporary,” Riffin said, breaking the silence between them. “The idea is that you and your parents would have…privacy, when you are being tended to for the upcoming events. My chambers are already being adapted to suit you for after the wedding, though my assistants are awaiting your input.”

  “It’s lovely,” Malia said. She spun to face him, finding that he appeared less than convinced with a familiar concern evident in his gaze. “Truly,” she added, approaching. She slipped her arms around his waist, looking up at him with a growing smile.

  “Are you certain?” he asked. “I can have something changed, should you require it,” he said.

  She placed her hand lightly over his mouth, her smile no longer controllable. “Enough,” she whispered. She withdrew her hand, pursing her lips, “I will be fine,” she said.

  Looking at him for a moment longer, it quickly occurred to her that this was no longer just about her chambers. She took him by the hand, bringing it to her lips, before luring him to the balcony. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  His fingers tightened around hers. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable here,” he said. He shifted his weight. “I worry I didn’t think this whole thing through.”

  There was a pang of discomfort in her heart, quick as the shot of an arrow, whizzing past. “About marrying me?” she asked.

  He scoffed and cocked his head to one side, “The desire to marry you is the only thing I’m certain of,” he said. The ease with which he spoke those words soothed her, if only for a moment. If he had no doubt about marrying her, then what did he doubt? “I worry I have not considered what this means for you—I worry I may not have prepared you enough for what’s to come.”

  Malia broke out into a giggle. She lowered her head in her efforts to stifle it, “I’m an adult,” she said. She was only seventeen, that much was true, but she considered herself an adult. “I’m old enough to think of these things for myself.”

  Riffin smirked. He nodded, visibly agreeing with her.

  “It’s not as though I’ve never lived here before,” she said. She couldn’t deny it, but she was trying to convince herself of that too. She had lived here before, that much was true, and the people here had always treated her as family. But she had rarely ever been here for anything longer than a month at a time.

  Often, her stay would be filled with parties, events and excursions. A celebration of some s
ort was normally the purpose of her visit and, once those celebrations were over, she would be on her way back to Azura, living the life of a commoner again—as common as she could be, without a title but with the Queen’s favour.

  This time, once the celebrations of their marriage were finished, she wouldn’t be leaving. She would have to stay and make a place for herself amongst the politics, the dreariness of every day life, confined to the Capital’s walls, until a system could be found for her to enjoy life beyond them.

  The very thought of it all was enough to rob her of breath. Rather than the wife of a Prince, she feared she would end up feeling more like a fish, caught in a net, floundering for survival.

  “I will do whatever I can to make this easier,” he said.

  Blinking, moving his face back into focus, she was sure that, in her moment of thought, he had been able to read her mind. It brought her immediate comfort to know he understood, to know that he was aware of all this meant for her.

  But she wouldn’t allow her uneasiness to show. Even if she felt it, if he knew of her concerns, others would too. Others who would seek to exploit every weakness in her.

  “We knew it wouldn’t be easy,” she said.

  She knew that the day she had fallen in love with him. She knew that he would be King one day and the lives of Kings were never easy. Loving him, marrying him, meant partaking in that, living a life that wasn’t easy.

  Riffin kissed the top of her head and she leaned into his chest. So long as they could always come back to this, she thought, her concern for difficult futures melted away. All she could hope for now was that they would always come back to this.

  ***

  Malia rolled onto her side in bed, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. She marvelled at the sun’s warmth, radiating through the curtain around her bed. It was when she sat up against the headboard, running her fingers through the tangles in her hair, that she could make out the figure on the other side. Bending over her trunk, pulling her clothing out and laying it across the couch, was a servant.