by Kyra Gregory
They both basked into that admission, allowing it to sink in, as well as allowing them to come to terms with it. Clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder, Thane rose to his feet, heaving a sigh.
“You and my sister,” Riffin started.
“Shouldn’t happen—I know,” Thane finished, glancing his way.
Riffin shook his head, “Fuck that,” he said. “Don’t let station keep you apart—I didn’t, and that’s one of the few decisions I have no regrets for.”
Thane’s shoulders dropped, burying his hands in the depths of his coat pockets. “Even after everything?”
“Yes,” he replied. He needn’t even think about it, his heart swelling at the thought of his wife. It was a resounding response, one without even a glimmer of doubt or uncertainty. Because the nobles were wrong about her. Because when his world started to crumble around him, she didn’t flee. She never hid from the danger. She stood firmly at his side. She took the risks. She took the insult. She schemed. She battled. She did it all.
His reply and the certainty with which he spoke seemed like a blow to Thane, though he didn’t seem at all surprised by it. He’d come to the realisation all by himself, maybe even the long, difficult way.
“Have you shown her?” Riffin asked, out of the blue.
Thane needn’t have him elaborate further. He knew what he meant. “No.”
He hung his head, dread sinking into his heart along with his reluctance to put that sort of pressure on his dearest friend. “It might help her,” he said. “It might help to know someone understands.”
Shaking his head, Thane withdrew. “It’s not the same thing,” he said.
“It is,” Riffin said.
His face fell at the thought. His frown deepened. His shoulders hunched and he became so much smaller. “She’ll run,” he said in a breath.
Riffin smirked, shaking his head, “She won’t,” he said. “Not if she loves you.”
Chapter 44
HANDS SHAKING AT HIS sides, Thane’s breaths were short, shallow and uneasy. He knew Riffin was right. If Neyva meant what she said, if she was as serious about this as she claimed, this would prove it.
Her response might very well determine everything. After all this time of doing his utmost to put distance between them, to convince her that this wasn’t right for them, he might have been better off showing her the truth, hoping it would be enough to put distance between them.
Now, now that they’d resolved matters, resigning themselves to this life they had together, baring their feelings to one another… He wasn’t sure he could do it. He wasn’t sure he was ready for the rejection. He wasn’t sure he was ready to have his heart broken.
“Mistakes are forgivable,” Riffin declared. He met Thane’s gaze, imparting on him the harsh lesson he’d learned. “Not learning from them—that’s not forgivable.”
The bile in the back of his throat burned viciously, flames licking at his vocal chords, though not enough to rid him of the responsibility of speaking.
But Riffin didn’t need any words. He offered him a supportive smile, hiding his own despair, before dismissing him with a cock of his chin.
His return to Neyva’s chambers proved to be shorter than he could stomach, with not a minute to regain his nerve when his entrance attracted her immediate attention.
Sat at her dressing table, unmade, brushing our her long dark hair, she tore her gaze away from her own reflection to look at him. A moment of discomfort lingered in her eyes just as they lingered in his, both attributed to the same thing—insecurity.
She was braver than him. She took the first steps forward, her beauty doing little to aid the recovery of his wits. “Is something wrong?” She came to a stop before him, a touch of concern in her eye. Much like when she’d been forced into two marriages, she’d grown used to receiving news that would bring her displeasure—he didn’t want to be a part of that.
“Everything’s fine,” he said, clearing his throat of the uncertainty. “The Queen’s returned. Deros is happy. Riffin and Malia... I think they’re relieved.”
“And you?” Neyva asked, head tilted to one side. “With the Queen’s return, she may ask you relinquish your General and advisory role back to your father.”
A smirk twitched at the corners of his lips. “I’ll do as I’m told,” he said with a shrug of his shoulder.
She lowered her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Does it not disappoint you?” she asked. “You’d received a place of position beside the King.”
He shrugged again, shaking his head, “My duty is to do as I’m told—not to gain position,” he said.
Slowly, she nodded, quiet as she took in his understanding of his circumstances.
Licking his lips, the fear still in his throat, he forced a soft smile, “Does it bother you?” he asked, turning the question on her. She looked to him with a furrowed brow, confusion in her eyes as she searched his expression for clarity. “Does it bother you that your husband is just a man, one without a title?”
She broke out into a wide smile, her eyes filled with a mixture of glee and sorrow. “That he retains the title of ‘husband’ is all that matters to me,” she said, “so long as he feels as I do.”
His heart raced. “For as long as you feel the same,” he said.
Her face lit up with a smile, more than thrilled by his response, oblivious to the significance it had to him. Dropping her gaze, she entwined their fingers together, giving them a light tug. “Come to bed,” she said.
She went to lead the way, only for Thane to remain unmoving, rooted where he stood. He could feel her disappointment as she turned her attention back to him, only he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye as she did.
Retracting his hand, he swallowed his nerves, and removed his sword and belt.
A smile, small and uncertain, returned to her face, though soon weighted by the fear and uncertainty of his actions. She took a step closer, her gentle hand reaching for his cheek. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
He licked his lips, saying nothing. How could he tell her? She’d see it for herself in just a moment. Her reaction would be response enough. Shrugging out of his coat, he tossed it to the side with one hand, tugging at the string on his shirt with the other.
With a furrowed brow, she watched.
It wasn’t a burst of confidence that caused him to pull his shirt over his head with such swiftness, but more so a desire to get the heartbreak over with and put an end to the tightness of his breathing.
Biting his tongue between his molars, his breath laboured, he lifted his gaze to her.
Her eyes widened, her brows lifted, and her lips parted long enough to release a short, quiet gasp.
The scars he’d born on his body since he was a child never faded like he was told they would. Small, circular marks, varying in their colour, peppered his torso, extending across his sides and towards his back.
She pursed her lips together, circling him with intrigue as she took in the sight of each and every one of them.
Left to stand there in silence, he waited. He waited for the questions, the grimaces, the remark of how unsightly they were.
“Poison?” she asked, her voice containing the curiosity of a child.
He nodded curtly. It was a test—he failed. Poisoned, meant to diagnose and treat himself at the age of ten, he’d failed to have the courage to do what needed to be done.
Causing him to hold his breath, she reached out, touching his back, brushing the tips of her fingers across the smooth marks along his spine. Though he wanted nothing more than to delight in her touch a little while longer, he’d accomplished what he’d needed to. Anything beyond that—this—wasn’t necessary.
He retrieved the shirt from the couch, only for her hand to fall over his as he went to pull it over his head. “There’s no need,” she said. She took the linen from his hand, tossing it aside, before inching closer.
Her hands fell to his chest, appearing t
o give no regard to the marks she’d learnt of, though making a deliberate statement. “I don’t mind,” she said.
Lifting herself onto her toes, she brushed her lips softly against his, a hand to his cheek as though to keep him steady. He forced himself to meet her gaze as she pulled away, searching it for the sincerity behind her words.
She could see the doubt on his face and, rather than anger, she laughed. Threading her fingers with his once again, though letting go, she cocked her head in the direction of her bedchambers. “Come to bed,” she reiterated.
Watching her departing back, he finally allowed himself to breathe, his shoulders dropping, his body no longer taut in an effort to contain his impending broken heart. With one last glance towards his shirt on the couch, he raked his fingers through his hair and followed her into the next room.
Chapter 45
SEATED OVER THEIR MORNING meal, it was almost as though the palace had gone back in time. It was no longer Riffin and Malia, Neyva and Thane, sitting at the dining table. Riffin’s mother had returned, seated at the head of the table as though she’d never left. Her husband sat at her right side, his daughter on his other, his heart noticeably restored to him as he would glance in his wife’s direction while they ate. Nothing had changed.
One by one, people ventured off for the day to set about their duties. Thane was the first to rise, offering a feeble smile in the direction of the Queen, as he left on errands meant to prove he was still capable of playing a key role in their kingdom.
Neyva quickly followed, almost before Thane even had a moment to leave the room, rushing out the door and grabbing his hand before the door closed, separating them from the world.
With a kiss to his cheek, Malia smiled and remarked she would be spending sometime in the library. With the children closely tended to by her mother and father, the fear she once had that fuelled her to keep herself close to them dissipated.
“I would have a word with my mother,” Riffin declared, finally, glancing his father’s way across the table.
Seated across from him and tearing his glance away from a letter, his father looked to him with furrowed brow.
“Whatever you need to say, you can say it in front of your father,” his mother said.
“No, I cannot,” he said.
Tensions had ceased between them. Even so, there were just some things Riffin preferred not to have an audience to.
Understanding, his father smirked, wiping at his mouth. “I’ll step outside,” he said.
As the two watched the man leave, silence fell over them. When the heavy doors clicked shut, his mother shot her gaze his way. “What’s this about?” she asked.
Riffin’s nostrils flared as he lifted his gaze, glancing at her from beneath his lashes, “You might’ve returned,” he started, “but the people need to see me for what I am.”
A smile played at her lips, a glimmer of amusement in her eye. “And what’s that?” she asked.
“Your equal,” he replied with ease.
A short sigh escaped her, the mirth on her features only growing.
“The nobles did what they did because they didn’t take my rule seriously,” he declared. “From now on, you and I need to be seen taking decisions together.”
She shook her head, “You’ve never cared to involve yourself in my decisions,” she said. “Years of lessons—“
“My family had never been threatened,” he retorted, cutting her short.
It pained him to say it. It pained him to assert himself to this extent. When all he wanted to do was leave the complexities to ruling to those more capable, he knew this needed to be done. For one day—one day his mother would die. She would die and that death would stick, and he couldn’t allow a repetition of the manipulation and insubordination he’d been treated to by his nobles.
No. The next time he became King, he would be ready. The next time he became King, nobody would dare turn against him.
The End of Book 2
Book 3: Acceded
Chapter 1
THE HEIR’S DEDICATION TO his position could no longer lie in doubt. Within a week of his mother re-taking her position on her rightful throne, he took to his duties in front of the public. Rather than confront the nobles alone, he took to the people to win back support that might’ve been taken from him by vindictive nobles. He walked amongst them, involved himself in the strife and solutions that came with living on their lands.
The dedication took him far from home some days. The Evradians were the most neglected of his people, often requiring longer periods of time away.
But returning home never lost its magic. Coming home, greeted by the palace walls he loved, seeing his wife and children—it never lost its spark and never ceased to remind him why he did what he did.
With Thane at his side as their tired, aching bodies descended the carriage, Malia greeted him promptly with a tight embrace and soft kisses. It’d been like he’d never left.
Reporting to his mother upon his return had been an order since a young age. Usually found in her throne room, always dealing with matters of her kingdoms, it was curious not to find her there waiting for his report.
The walk through the Capital’s gardens were a long one. The path was one he didn’t venture down often, certainly less so in the last year when it had become of greater significance than it once was.
At the end of the maze-like gardens, nothing but the sound of birds in the air, rustling in the trees, he came to the clearing where his mother’s tomb had been placed. Beautifully broken as the day his father had taken to it with a hammer, breaking open the seal, nothing had changed. Nothing more than having the woman it was meant to entomb, standing alive and well beside it.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
He shook his head, rolling his eyes. The significance of that tomb meant a lot more to them than the artistic integrity with which it was built. “An artistic masterpiece,” he declared with disinterest. “A shame it was never required.”
“Not a shame at all,” she said. She sucked in a deep breath, lifting her slumped shoulders, before turning to face him. Her eyes were somewhat red, glistening in the sunlight for reasons he had avoided with much selfishness. He supposed facing ones own mortality would do that to a person. Unfortunately for him, facing the mortality of his wife and children troubled him to the point that acknowledging his mother’s became more than he could think to consider.
Licking her lips, she dragged emotion back into the depths of her, returning to matters of their kingdom. “How was Evrad?” she asked.
He nodded curtly. “As well as I could hope,” he said. “My presence in Darner with Neyva and Thane seemed to solidify matters there. Considering the strategic nature of its location, I would consider it a triumph.”
“Your sister is Lady Darner,” she sighed, beginning on the path back to the palace. “Your priority is to become acquainted with the people of lands belonging to other nobles, not of those guaranteed to take your side in moments of strife.”
“That, too, was done,” he declared. “As it stands, we’ve done considerable damage to the narrative the Alliance Council set out to spread. We’ll prove them wrong.”
“And are they wrong?” she asked, barely glancing his way.
He came to an abrupt stop, biting the inside of his cheek as he waited for his mother to elaborate. She, too, came to a stop, casting a glance over her shoulder to ascertain that they remained alone. “Are they wrong?” she asked. “Because it seems to me you remain fuelled by a need for revenge.”
He bit his tongue for a second longer, nostrils flaring with a growing anger. “Say what you want in front of others,” he said, squaring up to her, “but you never taught me to steer clear of revenge. Of all your lessons, I would remember that one.”
“I taught you to bide your time, no?” she asked, lowering her voice. “Now is not the time to take your anger out on Ludorum.”
“I’ve held back long enough,” he said, growling. “Th
ey stood in my way. They almost had you executed. Tell me that isn’t worthy of revenge and I’ll call you a fucking liar—you started wars over less!”
She smiled, amusement and anger married together in her darkened gaze, “Is that what you would call my brother’s capture and torture? Less?” she asked.
“Ludorum’s failure to deal with their rebellions led to Malia’s capture! Rather than rectify matters, they stood in my way! I would call that offence equally abhorrent!”
“Ludorum will get what it deserves when the time comes,” she said.
“Not if we never give it to them!” he retorted, absent her calm.
“Why us?” she asked, shrugging a shoulder. “The rebels have recruited many of their nobles, have turned against them, and they remain under threat. Seems to me punishment for their failures has been granted by another.” Heaving a sigh, she continued to walk.
“And you want to help them!” he said, following closely behind.
“I want to help the innocents involved.”
He huffed uncontrollably. “What innocents?” he asked. “They all made their choices!”
She stopped, laughing with disbelief, “If you’re failing to see the innocents in all this, then your father and I have failed to teach you to look at the bigger picture,” she said. “All that matters now is that you follow instruction. Decisions will be made as to the way forward and I need to know that my son and I appear to have a united front in this.”
Licking his lips, Riffin dropped his gaze, standing down. While she always cared for his opinion, it meant nothing when it came time to act. The power he once had to rule his way had returned to his mother and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
“Good,” she said.
Without another word and a glimmer of a glare out of the corner of her eye, she left him, picking up her pace.
