The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  “We cannot be seen to involve ourselves in this,” she said, adamant. “These troubles are with the King of Ludorum and he should act in whatever way he sees fit. So long as we haven’t been called upon there’s no reason—”

  “There is a reason!” he said. “That reason is the love of my life,” he went on, “the mother of my children—children who will grow up without her if you do not do more.”

  His mother licked her lips and dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Riffin took a step back, eyes growing larger before his brothers furrowed together. “Sorry?” he asked. In a heartbeat, the anger took over, the vile hatred that worked its way up his chest and into his mouth. “How can you be sorry when you went to war for this very same thing?” Having turned her back on him, about to walk away, she paused. “You, too, were refused help by an ally and you went to war over it!”

  “Those were different times,” she whispered.

  He shrugged his shoulders, indifferent, “How so?” he asked. She gave no reply and the silence lingered in the air. He could see his father shifting his weight out of the corner of his eye, contemplating his involvement. A quick glance in his direction, recalling his presence, only served to fuel his anger. “Do you forget who her parents are?” he asked, looking back to his mother. “When it was your heart that’d been seized by another, when they withheld him from you and ransomed him, who was it that intervened to see him returned safely to your arms?” He advanced on her and she strengthened her posture, rooting herself where she stood. “Have you forgotten all her mother and father have done for you?” he asked.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” she declared through gritted teeth, glaring at him from beneath her lashes.

  “Then please,” he begged, a choked sob escaping him, “please, return the favour and bring her home.”

  She averted her gaze and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I cannot intervene,” she said.

  Riffin sighed and his fingers slipped into his hair, his nails digging into his scalp as he racked them through it ferociously.

  “I cannot intervene,” she repeated. “If I do so, I will be going against the wishes of our allies. I risk angering them and then we have no allies.”

  “They are useless,” he said. “If they weren’t, they wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.”

  “Tell them that and they will say the very same about us,” she hissed. “They will blame us for allowing her to end up in the hands of an enemy in the first place. We would be accused of breaking an alliance due to stupidity and arrogance. We could go to war over this!”

  “Then so be it!” he shouted. His mother’s eyes widened as she raised her delicate brows at him. “So we will be at war, so we will be without allies. We have done it before and we will do it again!”

  “We did nothing,” she screamed. “I did it. I did it all. I did it by myself,” she shouted, closing the distance left between them. She held her hand out in front of him, her fingers curved, claw-like before she clenched them into a fist and her voice dropped, “I did it all by myself and it tore me apart,” she whispered.

  Tears burned in the back of her eyes. They became glassy, glistening in the light. Riffin dropped his shoulders and a soft breath escaped him. “You will not be by yourself this time,” he whispered.

  Anger strengthened behind the tears. “Enough,” she screamed, turning away. Licking her lips, she vanquished her emotions and turned back to him, “Do not ask me to choose between a war and a wife,” she said. “I assure you, you will not like my answer.”

  She walked away, gripping her dress in her hands as she started to make her way up the steps. His father shifted his weight again, his gaze cast to the ground.

  Riffin wiped at his eyes, withholding the tears that threatened to stroll down his cheeks. He licked his lips, swallowing the lump of emotion that had lodged itself in the back of his throat. “What about my father?” he asked. “Would you not have gone to war to bring him back to you?”

  His mother turned herself around. Instead of looking to Riffin, she looked to her husband. He was the man she loved above anyone else in the world. He was the man who had been loyal to her when others had not. He was the man that loved her unconditionally. He was the man that wanted for himself nothing more than her love and for her nothing but happiness, and who did everything within his power to see both to fruition.

  He met her gaze. Whatever she saw within it, Riffin thought, only saddened her further. “Not at the expense of my kingdom,” she said.

  Her words were a blow, winding Riffin entirely. He looked to his father, eyes wide. His father stood resolute, looking up to meet his son’s gaze with apathy in his eyes. “Did you know?” he asked.

  His father shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, “I always knew,” he said. “She would do what she could but ‘could’ never meant giving up her kingdom—I understood that.”

  “Does that not upset you at all?” he asked, his voice softer this time.

  His father smiled and shook his head. He looked to his wife as she threw herself into her throne. Their eyes met. Understanding, tender as it was, passed between them. “I would have praised her for it,” he said.

  Riffin felt himself go weak at the knees. His heart thundered in his chest and his head throbbed from all the yelling. “I’m sorry to disappoint you both,” he said, looking from his father to his mother, “but, if forsaking my heart is what it takes to be the King you want, then I don’t think I can ever make you proud.”

  The two said nothing and the room fell into silence. Unable to stand for very much longer, knowing that begging was of no use, he turned on his heel and left.

  ***

  Malia snapped her gaze in the direction of the creaking cell door. For a moment, she thought herself lucky enough to be receiving a second meal. “Come with me,” the guard said, a disgruntled growl in his voice.

  She swayed on her feet, unsteady. Leaning against the wall for support, struggling to find her balance before she could take her first step forward, the guard huffed and then made his way into the cell. He reached for her arm, his fingers sinking into her skin. “If anything happens to me—”

  “Precisely why you need to come with me,” he hissed, glaring down his nose at her. He seized her harder by the arm and then escorted her out of her cell.

  As she was taken up a flight of stairs and out a door, her gaze flitted about, taking in her surroundings. The gardens she found herself in was beautiful, the sunlight sparkling across the rippling waters of the fountains.

  Pursing her lips together, she basked in the sensation of the sun against her skin, the familiar wave of heat that she had missed so much.

  “Do not think of running,” the guard grumbled, letting go of her arm with a jolt, forcing her attention to return to him. “I do not enjoy running.”

  Running? The idea sounded ludicrous to her when her legs ached the way they did. As the chill that had worked its way down to her bones slowly dissipated, she felt a hot flush burning in her cheeks. She started to walk, slowly at first, until she became certain her legs would carry her and that her knees wouldn’t give way.

  When she couldn’t walk any longer, she stopped. Making her way over to a stone bench, the cold damp worked its way up her spine again, forcing her to shudder against the sensation.

  “Feeling better?” Cisco asked.

  Malia visibly jumped, startled. “Somewhat,” she replied, keeping the apprehension from her voice. It was night and day, the feelings she had. The cold had disappeared, replaced only by warmth that tingled at her skin. She breathed easier once she was out of the damp, each breath she took no longer pained and sharp. But she wasn’t about to let him know that. The longer she was out there, the more time she had to take in her surroundings.

  “We have yet to hear back from the King or your husband,” he said. She couldn’t understand the look of triumph on his face. He was trying to intimidate her, to frighten he
r; she was certain of it. He had no reason to feel triumphant in a failed ransom. He would be as powerless as when he started, no riches and no stronger. Instead, all he would have accomplished is painting a bigger target on his back. He would have gained the attention of his enemies, exploiting his weaknesses.

  “You don’t appear to be much concerned,” he declared.

  Malia bit the inside of her cheek, “My husband will come for me,” she said. She hoped. It wasn’t him that she doubted but the external forces that would keep him from doing so.

  He smirked. “He might do,” he said. “Perhaps he may also kill you,” he mused aloud, “a thing which has been done before, within his family.”

  Malia put on her best smile, shrugging her shoulders, “If that is what’s required of me, then so be it,” she said.

  The smirk on his lips started to falter and Malia knew the fleeting moment of silence meant that she had gotten to him. “What a dutiful wife you are,” he remarked.

  Malia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, raising a delicate brow.

  “Perhaps people were wrong to judge you as a poor choice—you know your place, you know your duty, and the prospect of death in the pursuit of either doesn’t faze you,” he said. He jerked his head down the path as intensity grew in his eyes abruptly, “Let’s go,” he said.

  When she lingered where she sat, he grabbed her in a vice-like grip around the back of her arm. Back on her feet again, she remained unsteady, forcing Cisco to strengthen his hold on her. As they walked back to the home, built of dark stone, she tried to soak in the rest of her surroundings for a little while longer, hoping it would do its part in distracting her from the pain.

  She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She could make out the sound of soft, joyful giggles in the distance, fluttering on a subtle breeze. She looked around in search of it, finding two children, turning a corner. Dressed impeccably, they were followed by a stern-faced young woman.

  The children were around four and five years old, a boy and girl with glistening golden hair that fluttered atop their heads as they ran. Their bright, pearly white smiles shone in the sunlight. Her heart fluttered in her chest and, before she could dwell on it, she was forced to an abrupt stop as the children crossed their path.

  They slowed down as they did so, bowing their heads in their direction. They looked to the man beside her with a hint of fear in their gazes and they looked at her, above all else, with intrigue. They didn’t linger for too long. They were quick on their feet, recalling the game they had been playing before running away.

  “Whose children are they?” she asked.

  “Mine,” he replied, lacking interest.

  She was back in her basement cell before she knew it. Her forehead pressed against the cold bars, she gripped them between clenched fists as she bit back the temptation to scream with frustration.

  This was exactly what they wanted from her, she told herself. They wanted her to get angry and to get upset, to lose all sense and all hope. She wouldn’t allow it. Dragging herself away from the bars, she sat down abruptly against the wall. She laid herself back, sighing in her attempt to expel her growing frustration. But doing so, expelling that pent up frustration, gave way to plenty more troubling emotions.

  When the anger and frustration started to fade she would recall home. She had two—she thought, almost immediately. If she closed her eyes, she could recall her childhood home. With the open land behind the house, an adventure was always near, playing and exploring there with the few friends she had, as well as Riffin. As she got older, she would take a book and some bread, walk into the woods and sit beneath the shade of trees, feeding herself as she read, as well as whatever small creatures were brave enough to approach her.

  The call of the sea was enticing to both her parents and no amount of moving inland would ever change that. Never ones to run from their desires, she travelled to the shores of Azura often. She would play in the sand, accompanied by her mother while her father dealt with the Queen’s business. The warmth of the sand beneath her feet, the sun stinging her skin, was a contrast to the cold water she would deep into, standing there as she admired the tall ships that lingered in the bay. He mother would walk shoulder-to-shoulder with her, often telling her of tales of the adventures she shared with her father across the open waters of the world.

  Those ships they admired often ferried her to her second home. The palace in Lionessa, a fortified castle at the heart of an equally fortified kingdom, was a luxury that most hadn’t been granted.

  Everything was different and, yet, it was very much the same. She still sat for her morning meals, only in remarkably more formal company than when she had lived in Azura. She would enjoy the sunshine by wandering the gardens before she would take up her archery or a sword or join the rest of the family in conversation.

  As much as it may have been a struggle to find her place in the palace, it was no less her home than Azura had been. Returning to her chambers in the evenings was when all those around her fell away.

  No longer was she concerned with the way nobles and diplomats looked at her, or with what the Queen or her husband thought of the way she spent her time—though neither of them had ever said anything, she reckoned they expected more from her. At night, all those concerns disappeared. At night, she would make it to Riffin’s arms and be delighted within his embrace. They would confide in one another and make light of their daily experiences, grumble about their little frustrations before mocking those that inflicted them upon them.

  Although motherhood was a great part of her life, for however briefly she had succeeded in indulging in it, it hadn’t done much to transform her way of life. What hours she often spent in her own company, seated in a garden or in a sitting room, she would spend in the nursery instead. The thought of their young faces was enough to get her heart racing, just as it had the day they were placed into her arms. She and Riffin would stand in one another’s embrace, watching over the cradles for hours before they could find it within themselves to tear each other away from them.

  The cell doors creaked once more and Malia glanced in its direction. Cisco entered, tossing a rolled up piece of parchment onto the ground, “The King of Ludorum and the Queen of Lionessa wish to ascertain you are alive and well,” he said. “Write to them. Let them know of your state.”

  Malia didn’t lift herself from the wall, reaching for the piece of parchment, as well as the pen that he threw alongside it. She had the right mind to refuse. As her heart flooded with the loneliness, the image of her children flickering in the back of her mind, she thought that after all he had kept her from, why should she give him what he wanted? That same image, playing itself over and over inside her head, watching his children grow up, grinning with smiles from ear-to-ear... She wanted to see that from her own children. She wanted to see them again.

  Chapter 19

  RIFFIN THREW HIMSELF INTO his chair, cocking his head back as he raked his fingers through his hair and then rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes. He’d been up for hours and what little he allowed himself to sleep was spent dreaming. There was nothing pleasant about those dreams, however. Old lessons, taught to him by Ewin, by Gyles, and by his father, came back to him almost as vividly as the day he was first forced to sit for them. Try as he might, his mind scrambled in search of everything he was ever taught, seeking out anything that would be of use.

  There was a hard knock on the door and he glanced in its direction as it opened. Thane slipped inside, closing the door behind him. “Were you seen?” Riffin asked.

  Thane shook his head, pulling a folded piece of parchment from the inside of his jacket. ‘These are all the ships available in port, or expected to be within the next few days,” he said.

  Riffin snatched the list from his hand, his breath catching in the back of his throat as he scanned the list. “Not an adequate number to pay the ransom but enough to create a show of force.” When Thane said nothing, Riffin glanced up at him. H
e stood rigidly in front of him, staring at the ground as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “What is it?” he asked.

  Thane blinked, then shook his head. The smile that flickered onto his lips was all too brief, a feeble attempt at telling him that nothing was wrong. Riffin glared at him, forcing him out of his silence. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked.

  Riffin pulled himself back, leaning into the comfort of his chair, watching as his friend’s concerns unfolded.

  “You’re talking about seizing ships and creating a navy of your own,” he said.

  “Where’s this come from?” Riffin asked. “You’ve always been the one without fear of anything!”

  “It isn’t fear to want to do a hard thing smart,” he retorted.

  It was then that realisation hit him. He’d heard those words before. Riffin’s brows furrowed together and he slowly rose to his feet. “This is about your father,” he said.

  Thane scoffed, “We’re defying a Queen,” he said. “I think my father is the least of our concerns.”

  Riffin circled the desk, the tremor in his friend’s voice ringing in his ears. “Whatever happens, I will protect you,” he said.

  “And who will protect you?” Thane countered. Riffin bit the inside of his cheek, looking to him with confusion. “My father blames me for your reckless behaviour and threatens to remove me from your side. Your mother, on the other hand, allows me to stay here because she knows that I will always protect you.”

  “And between your father and my mother who do you think will win such an argument?” Riffin asked, scoffing. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “But I do worry,” Thane retorted. “If I fail at keeping you safe, what then?”

  Riffin shook his head and closed the distance between them. He grabbed his friend’s shoulders, forcing his attention back to him, “You have nothing to worry about,” he said. “We will be fine.”