The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  “Now get out,” Thane growled. While everyone stopped and stared, startled by how quickly everything had changed, he advanced towards them, “Out!” he ordered. Manus remained unmoving, leaving Thane to turn his attention to the others, “Get out! All of you!”

  The servants were the first to scutter out of the room, needing no instruction from anyone above him in station. The nobles, grumbling between them, some of them passing snide remarks, were the next to leave. Manus lingered the longest, dragging his feet as he went, glancing over his shoulder, smirking with triumph.

  Thane dragged the metal latch over the door, securing it against anyone else who would deem it fit timing to enter. Unable to contain himself any longer, he released a flurry of curses beneath his breath, incapable of concealing his rage any longer. Turning around, raking his fingers through his hair, he tossed his sword onto the pile of clothing on the chair. “Fucking animals,” he hissed once more.

  Amidst the red mist of rage that’d descended over his eyes, he caught sight of Neyva then, wide-eyed and curled up on the bed. Swallowing his anger, he snatched her silk dressing gown off one of the couches, approaching her swiftly, “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  Neyva shook her head, pursing her lips together, casting her gaze about as though she expected something else to happen.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. Eager to make his way towards her, he forced himself to a stop and maintained his distance, refusing to advance until he was certain it was all right to do so. Although the nobles were now out of their sights, the chambers quiet and private like they should’ve been, his presence remained an intrusion she might not’ve been able to cope with.

  Leaning into the headboard, she climbed down from the fear and the shock, her hand dropping to her chest in an effort to steady her racing heart. Her mouth fell open, though nothing but a quiet stammer left her when faced with his question. Slowly, she extended her legs, shifting ever so slightly to the edge of the bed.

  Thane rifled through the pocket on the inside of his coat, snatching a handkerchief from within it. “Here,” he said, extending it to her. “The bleeding will stop soon.”

  A strange number of reasons could be attributed to her shock. His defiance in the face of the nobles, his outburst of rage—that appeared to have unsettled her the most. Her wound—that had been pushed to the back of her mind.

  Although no more than an inch long, the cut on the inside of her thigh bled profusely—about as much as he’d imagined, and hoped, that it would. Red-faced and uncomfortable, Neyva parted her legs enough to take a peek at it before placing the handkerchief over it. Though she’d realised in the moment what’d happened, bit by bit her mind came to terms with reality. “How—“

  Having turned away to offer her some privacy, Thane pulled a minute blade from inside the cuff of his sleeve, allowing the steel to glisten in the candlelight.

  Neyva breathed out a soft sigh, eyes wide as she took in the sight of it. “You... You could’ve told me,” she said.

  “I’d hoped to,” he said, “though there wasn’t any time—and I did fear the reaction wouldn’t be nearly what it needed to be if I had.”

  Thane made his way over to the personal bar in the corner of Neyva’s living quarters, holding up the bottle as he silently sought her permission to help himself to a drink. She nodded, though dazed to such a point that he wondered if she ever knew what she was agreeing to. He poured out a drink for her along with his own, placing it beside her on the bed. “Care for it well,” he said. “Nobody can ever see that wound; not your servants, not a physician—no one.”

  Neyva bit her bottom lip, nodding curtly.

  The rosiness in her cheeks, barely having left, unsettled him enough to turn away. Though he couldn’t put distance between them yet, the least he could do was offer her some semblance of privacy, even though their conversation did nothing to soothe their unease. “As far as everyone is concerned, tonight—“

  “I know,” she said, cutting him off before he needed to elaborate.

  Thane considered his words carefully, glancing over his shoulder. She shifted to the edge of the bed, applying pressure to her wound, all the while staring absent-mindedly at the wall in front of her. “The day this is resolved and you aspire to marry another, I’ll have no qualms about telling him the truth myself,” he said. Heaving a sigh, he went and threw himself onto the couch, chalice of wine still in hand.

  “When this is resolved?” she asked.

  Light-footed, she climbed off the bed and slinked into her dressing gown, making her way towards him. “When your brother has finished with the Council,” he said. “When they’re gone, when he regains the power to do so, you will want to annul this marriage and I will accept—the matter of consummation need never be a problem.”

  Neyva’s mouth fell open, her gaze filled with all sorts of confusion. He couldn’t quite discern what she felt, though neither could he do the same about himself. His rage was still fresh, bubbling inside of him like the lava in a volcano, another eruption imminent.

  It clouded his judgement, like it or not. Fuelled by his own humiliation, by his own guilt, it overpowered much of everything else he felt—he couldn’t even convey the concern he felt for her! She lowered herself beside him, drawing her legs up onto the couch. “You really don’t aspire for power or position, do you?” she asked.

  He gave a subtle shrug of his shoulders, “This isn’t what I wanted for you,” he said. “This isn’t what I wanted for myself.”

  She cocked her head to one side and her eyes softened, brows twitching together in unspoken confusion.

  It was a lie, in part. Though he held a world full of admiration for her, a respect he could never confess, this was never meant to happen. A Lady, with royal blood in her veins and a King for a brother, was never meant to be married to a common, titleless guard.

  They weren’t together because of mutual respect or mutual admiration—he doubted she even had that for him. They were together because duty had demanded it of them—because they were each used in an effort to reconcile matters far greater than them.

  “We’re husband and wife,” she whispered, “whether we like it or not.”

  He smirked, shaking his head, “Which you do not,” he said.

  She rested her head against the back of the couch, visibly tired, “Don’t you dislike it also?” she asked.

  Unable to shake his smile, Thane half-turned towards her, “I have admired you for as long as I can remember,” he said, “but this isn’t how I ever thought I might prove myself to you.”

  Neyva broke out into quiet, nervous laughter, only for it to fade as she realised it wasn’t a joke—he was being honest. “Prove yourself to me?” she asked.

  Thane pulled himself away and swallowed the contents of his cup, “I said nothing,” he said through the sting of the alcohol burning his throat. He rose to his feet, unsteady at first, and then made his way back to the bar to top up his cup.

  “But you did,” she said, scrambling to her feet, “and if you and I are to survive being married to one another then we should be clear.”

  He scoffed, “And what is it you would like made clear?” he asked. “That I’m aware of my position as a peasant?” he prompted, peeking over the rim of his cup. “That I’m aware that I’m not fit to be married to a woman of your status?”

  She scoffed in return, an incredulous smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, “I think you’re mistaken,” she said. “I think you overestimate my self worth.”

  “I don’t,” he retorted. “You were raised as a Princess—even given the title as such.”

  She shrugged her shoulders, taking a few, cautious steps towards him. With her arms folded against her chest, her fingers digging into her arms, her features carried more tenderness than the tension her body conveyed. “And you were raised equal to a Prince, alongside my brother—the only fault lying in the fact that you couldn’t gain such a title,” she said. “That doesn’t make you less
er than—“

  Tearing his cup away from his lips, pointing his index finger as a thought came to mind, he spoke, “But it does,” he said, cutting her off, “to the point that you were quick to accuse me of using you for political advantage.”

  She shook her head, quickening her steps towards him only for him to keep putting distance between them, “That was a mistake,” she said. “I was hurt,” she went on, “unable to take in everything that was happening to me.”

  “It was quick to mind,” he reiterated, “and I cannot say I blame you—“

  “But you should,” she said, cutting him off before he could return to the couch. “You’re well-educated, a gentleman, have been nothing but a dear and loyal friend to my brother—I had no grounds to make such an accusation.”

  He smirked, side-stepping her, “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’ll have this marriage annulled one day—we need only survive through it until then.”

  Neyva returned to the couch, standing over him, “You speak of annulling this marriage as though I am the only one who who would want for that,” she said. “If position and title is not what you want, what is it? Why did you agree to marry me?”

  “It was my duty to do so,” he said, lifting his gaze from his cup. “I’ve been trained my entire life to do what needs to be done—to do my duty to my kingdom, to my King and to my Queen. It is what my father did and what my mother did and I am expected to do the same! That is my only reason for being here this night! For allowing my own feelings to be compromised to—”

  “Would you not prefer to marry for love, instead of duty?” she asked, a crack in her voice. “You don’t want someone who burns to be with you?“

  Thane tore his gaze from the contents of his cup, “I wouldn’t know,” he said.

  Downing the contents of his cup, Thane shifted along the couch and made himself comfortable.

  “You’re sleeping here?” she asked.

  Thane lifted his head from the pillow, looking at her incredulously, “I can hardly be seen to leave my wife on my wedding night, can I?” he retorted.

  Neyva said nothing else, getting to her feet.

  He dropped his head back onto the pillow, raking his fingers through his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut.

  Before long, he heard her pit-pattering over, looming over him once more. She played with her fingers, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze flitting elsewhere, almost unable to look at him. “Can I at least offer you a blanket?” she asked.

  He sighed, fighting the unmistakable flutter in his heart, placing the cup on the ground beside the couch, “A blanket would be nice,” he replied, civilly.

  Without another word, she walked away, returning with a thick woollen blanket. She looked about ready to drape it over him when he took it from her, offering her a short smile of gratitude.

  One by one, she blew out the candles on the way to her bed, submerging the room in darkness. The sleep would evade him, much to his dismay, and, by the sound of her tossing and turning, he reckoned it evaded her too.

  Chapter 26

  IN THE EARLY HOURS of the morning, a silence lingered over the palace, save for a few birds chirping in the gardens. The sun had hardly risen when Thane crept out of Neyva’s chambers, careful not to stir her with the sound of his leaving. In his room, his father sat upright in his bed, taking in the sight outside his window as he listened to Thane go on about the Alliance Council and their demands.

  “You must see to it that this doesn’t play to their advantage,” his father said, never taking his eyes off the view. “If ever there was a marriage more doomed to fail, it would be this one and you cannot let them use marital disputes as a distraction.”

  Brows twitching together, Thane glanced over his shoulder as he stirred his father’s porridge. “Why would you say so?” he asked. He couldn’t deny the touch of hurt, the frustration at being doomed to fail at anything he involved himself with.

  He chuckled, staring out the window like he had done for the last few days, paying his son little attention other than to act as an advisor. “Marriage requires sacrifice and your duty to sacrifice has always been to your kingdom—marriage gets in the way of your ability to do that.”

  Thane bit his tongue, choosing his words wisely. “Is that what happened between you and my mother?” he asked, unable to help himself.

  “Your mother always knew my duty was to my Queen,” he said. “I think a part of her always wished I would one day choose her over duty. That was about all that kept her with me—the hoping.”

  “And which of all your duties finally lifted the smoke before her eyes?” he asked, countering with near-equal bitterness.

  There was a pause and he thought for certain his father would avoid the subject. Instead, with not a hitch of his breath or a stutter in his words, he spoke, “The one of raising you,” he said. “The one that needed to discipline your poor choices and see that you were prepared to take on your role. As you got older, your influence over the young Prince increased—I needed to be certain you wouldn’t lead him astray after all his parents had done to see he was prepared.”

  Turning on his heel, Thane masked the hurt on his face with anger. “You’re blaming me for this?” he asked, snarling.

  “Of course not,” his father spat, finally tearing his eyes off the view, looking him up and down. “I blame no one but myself and the circumstances I found myself in.”

  Thane said nothing, though he wanted nothing more than to call him a liar.

  “I know you might have strong feelings for the Princess and you have done your duty by marrying her but you cannot let personal feelings get involved.”

  Thane chuckled and shook his head, “It’s not so much feelings that I have but morals,” he retorted. In part it was a lie; yes, he had feelings for her, but no, feelings didn’t influence the way he treated her—morality did.

  “Treat her as you must—as a Princess in need of your protection, same as the King and his Queen, as well as their children. Beyond that—“

  Thane rolled his eyes, “She doesn’t need my protection; she needs a husband who will not use her for political advantage,” he said.

  His father’s eyes gleamed with momentary amusement, eyeing him with some disbelief, “And you think you can be that husband?” he asked. Before he could even open his mouth, before he could even consider a response, his father chuckled as he found the seriousness in his son’s words, “Do you honestly believe you can be enough for her?”

  Thane took a deep breath and bit his tongue. As far as he was concerned, his father didn’t want an answer from him, he only wanted to impart a lesson on him, same as usual.

  “She’s a Princess—intelligent, with land and title and an ambition to build something for herself beyond what was granted to her by the Queen. Well-intentioned, kind and considerate as you might be, you won’t be enough for her.”

  Thane said nothing, breathing out a heavy sigh as he placed his food down beside him. Though he appeared indifferent, his father’s words caused a dull ache in his chest he hadn’t thought he’d be vulnerable to. Possibly sensing his disappointment, his father’s gaze softened somewhat, offering him a shred of sympathy, or pity. “It’s not just status that stands between you,” he said.

  Thane rolled his eyes, sighing, “What else, father?” he asked.

  “Duty, as I said already,” he replied. “You will have a duty to your King and she will have duty towards him also—though both fulfilling your duties has led you to marry one another those duties may not always correlate. You will be torn between marriage and duty and, when your duty is solely to your King, a successful marriage is impossible.”

  “You really think it cannot be done?” Thane asked, raising a brow.

  “I think a marriage is only possible if love is chosen over duty,” he replied. “She has no love for you, and you needn’t have anything that rises above duty.”

  Thane breathed out a heavy sigh, feeling himse
lf slacken again, “Always a pleasure speaking to you, father,” he said as he turned on his heel.

  “I know this isn’t what you want to hear but it’s the truth!” he said, calling after him. “The King has learnt that there’s a price to be paid for love. Learn from him—do not make the same mistake and you’ll spare yourself the broken heart.”

  Biting his tongue, Thane offered his father a polite smile, courteous if nothing else, and left.

  At a distance, he could make out Riffin’s form on his way to the nursery. Though he expected him to simply smile and be on his way, the hour far too early, he backtracked at the sight of him and waved him into the room. With nerves he’d never felt around his friend before, he held his breath for a moment before he followed him, dragging his feet.

  Riffin said nothing for the longest time, likely hoping he would speak first and of his own free will. Instead, he preoccupied himself with the children, taking them from their carers and bringing them to sit in front of him on the furs laid out for the curious crawlers they’d become. The young Prince was a deep sleeper, though restless until the point he would submit himself to it, and deemed to be better off in his cradle.

  Dismissing the carers with a gentle command, Thane stiffened beside the door, hands clasped together in front as he waited to be addressed.

  As involved as the King wanted to be with his children, one thing he rarely allowed was the conflict of his role to enter the place his children played and slumbered. To him, being a King and being a father were two separate entities, and the nursery drew the line between the two.

  Thane wasn’t sure if that was reason to be at ease, or on edge; if Riffin wasn’t going to talk to him about the Alliance Council or Ludurom then he was going to talk to him about his recent marriage.

  Riffin glanced in his direction, finding him stiff as a board, “Come and sit down,” he said.

  Thane inched closer, taking a seat on the couch with Riffin seated beside his legs, smiling at his playful daughters. “The nobles seemed pleased with themselves as they left last night,” he said. “I take it riling you up added to their pleasure.”