The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  The children’s ball came to a stop at his feet. Their giggles stopped, all trace of their happiness disappeared, as they halted at a distance, watching with wide eyes. Offering them a smile, he kicked the ball their way and resumed their laughter.

  Returning his attention to Queen Meryl, he chose his words carefully. “Do that,” he said, “and consider the debt repaid.”

  ***

  Messengers could always be trusted to cut through the tension in the air. When those within the palace walls couldn’t stand to deal with one another any longer, they could always trust that visitors would unite them for even a short moment, offering a show of solidarity that was often absent from the reality of their everyday lives.

  “Caterina of Guignol,” a guard announced as the throne room door creaked open.

  Queen Sybelle lowered herself into her seat, her fingers tightening around the lions-heads that adorned her throne.

  Riffin came to stand by her side, leaning casually into the side of her seat as he watched Caterina enter from beneath his lashes. Her face seemed awash with delight, her eyes glistening as she laid them on her friend. “It’s good to see you,” she said, an awe-struck smile playing at her lips.

  “And good to see you,” the Queen said. Her tone lacked the same friendliness of Lady Guignol, but the twinkle in her eye could rival hers, albeit for a remarkably different reason. “I thought I would see you sooner,” she declared, “what with all the other nobles of note here for my arrival when I returned.”

  Caterina’s eyes fell on Riffin, if only for a second. “I passed on word with a messenger,” she said. “I would not be able to attend.”

  “Because of illness?” she asked, recalling. “Are you well now?”

  Caterina shifted. “Not my illness,” she said. “My son’s.”

  The Queen raised a brow. “How does he fare?”

  “Well,” she replied. “He’s thought to make a full recovery.”

  The Queen leaned back further into her seat, just a hint of a slouch as she made herself comfortable. “What do you know about the Alliance Council?” she asked.

  Caterina shook her head. “About as much as you do, I’m afraid,” she said. “Manus Baran approached me at one point, mentioning the involvement of others, but I was never privy as to who they might be.”

  “Were you not at all tempted?” she asked. “After all, the Alliance Council seemed to have been making some exceptional assurances.”

  A smirk flickered on Caterina’s lips, her brow twitching for all but a second. “I have stepped out of line for the sake of assurances once before,” she said, bitterness in her tone as she recalled the time. “There are no longer any assurances that I would consider betraying my Queen—or my King—for.”

  Licking her lips, the Queen paused.

  “And did you advise the Alliance Council as such?” Riffin asked, raising a brow. “Did you think to tell them of the lesson you learnt?”

  Caterina clenched her jaw. She held her gaze with him firm, then glanced at the ground.

  “Of course not,” the Queen said, reading her expression perfectly. “Doing so would force her to admit to her own betrayal—and to admit that the Queen spared her for her actions.”

  “It served you well,” Caterina retorted with fleeting courage. “Had it been proven that the Queen—or King—were merciful, it would’ve only encouraged others to join their cause.”

  “And were there?” she asked. “Were there others?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she replied, an exaggeration on just about every syllable, ascertaining she made herself as clear as possible. “To know that, I would have to know who else was approached and nobody ever dared speak of it for fear the other would be involved.”

  The Queen pursed her lips together, then clicking her tongue against the roof over her mouth.

  Caterina seemed about as genuine as she possibly could. Her replies were clear, concise, and never alluded to anything but honesty—Riffin didn’t trust it. A woman who was raised to take on after her father would be trained in the art of deception, and there was never a doubt in his mind that she would be one of them.

  He lifted himself from where he leaned against his mother’s throne, shifting his weight while crossing his arms firmly over his chest.

  “Have you heard nothing else?” she asked. “No whispers of fear on the streets from those that might be deemed guilty?”

  Caterina’s mouth fell open, considering her words. “No more than you might’ve learnt from your spies,” she replied.

  “How would you know?” the Queen asked, raising a brow.

  She nearly didn’t catch herself about to roll her eyes, an exasperated sigh escaping her as she threw her hands up at her sides. “Was I summoned to be interrogated?” she asked.

  Riffin scoffed, taking a step forward into the light, “If that is what your Queen commands, yes,” he said.

  The Queen held her hand up, silencing him, only with a sympathetic smile on her lips. “My son is understandably upset—finding traitors all around him would do that to a man,” she said.

  Caterina’s shoulders dropped. Her gaze on Riffin intensified, seeing him as more than just a child. “I know nothing,” she said. “The Alliance Council organised itself in absolute secrecy. I never got involved to know more.”

  The Queen leaned further into her seat, staring down her nose at her old friend, taking her apart with her eyes in search of her sincerity. “Return to your son,” she said. “But be prepared to return should I summon you.”

  Caterina bowed her head, curtsying shortly before she turned and left before the Queen could change her mind about letting her leave.

  “I don’t trust her,” Riffin said, openly, as the doors to the throne room closed behind her.

  “You have sense,” she replied, unmoving as she continued to stare after the woman she had once called her friend. “Would you like to learn how you could have done better?” she asked.

  “Always,” he replied, without needing to give it a thought.

  His mother rose to her feet, gathering her dress within a loose grip as she skipped down the steps of her throne. “Caterina’s betrayal years ago, slight as it may have appeared, left the mark I had intended. She feared repercussions too much to step out of line again.”

  “You don’t believe she joined the Alliance Council?”

  “I don’t think she did,” she said. “I think she had ample reason but fear kept her from doing so. She’s seen us come out unscathed before, leaving her open to be punished. She wouldn’t have risked it again.”

  Having followed her down the steps, he took a seat at the bottom, drawing one knee up to his chest as he watched her make herself comfortable at the marble-topped table.

  “When the Alliance Council first posed a threat, you could have asked her to join,” she said.

  He raised a brow. “As a spy?” he asked.

  Slowly, his mother nodded. “Every war we have ever won has been with a man—or woman—of our own, on the other side,” she said. “Her fear of disappointing, knowing her people will suffer, would fuel her to join the Council under the pretence of their safety.”

  “All the while securing the safety of her ruler,” he murmured.

  She nodded, heaving a soft sigh, leaning forward in her seat to retrieve letters from the table. “While that’s in the past, I have no doubt the lesson will serve you well in the future,” she said. “Learning to exploit ones fears—a priceless lesson I wish I had taught you sooner.”

  His shoulders dropped as he raked his fingers through his hair, skimming his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Yet another moment in which I have disappointed you,” he said.

  Her dark eyes shot up from behind the page in her hands, penetrative and captivating with their hold. “I’m not disappointed,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’m merely sparing you from learning the lesson yourself—the hard way.”

  He chuckled. “One would say I already endured ‘t
he hard way’ and still haven’t learnt,” he said.

  “And who might that ‘one’ be?” she asked, raising her brow. “I certainly don’t consider myself as such—neither your father.”

  He felt a small pang of relief at the sound of her bringing him up herself. It spared him having to do it himself again. “Does he ever talk about it?” he asked, softer this time. “His disappointment in me,” he elaborated when faced with her confusion.

  She shook her head, “There’s no disappointment to speak of,” she replied. “No man or woman can judge the position people like us are in—learning to toe the line between our own survival and the love for our people, our respect for them, and their respect for us, all the while trying not to appear as tyrants.”

  He licked his lips, nodding. “I think about that sometimes,” he said, glancing at her from beneath his lashes. “I wonder if... All this time I spent seeing the Alliance Council the villains in this story, that I wonder if they and their people see that in us,” he said.

  “Some will,” she said, “which is why we must always maintain the love and the respect of the rest. So long as they are happy, so long as their businesses thrive, shelter remains over their heads, food on their plates and in the bellies of their children—they will keep us.”

  “The Alliance Council believed I would threaten that,” he said. “Do you think I might’ve?”

  She sighed, slouching back further into her seat. “I had such fears when I burnt much of Evrad to the ground, then sought to claim it,” she said. “I did everything within my power to see Evrad restored—and to have them know precisely where that restoration came from—so they need never think of me as just the Queen who burnt their villages to the ground.”

  It worked. Though many certainly remembered where the great fires started from, she had done a good enough job at restoring the kingdom, such that many blamed their King at the time for her actions, rather than the woman herself.

  “Whatever action you take, you can make it better—you just need to have the foresight to see the consequences, and plan accordingly,” she said.

  Slowly, he nodded. She was right. It was a lesson in itself. It wasn’t one he’d failed to learn but one he’d failed to give much thought to. All this time he’d spent worrying about what saving Niles and Pietros would do and what opportunities it would give them to take him down, all he needed to do was plan for that. All he needed to do was plan for the potential betrayal.

  Realisation sank in and he lifted his gaze to meet hers. A smile grew on her lips, an insidious smirk and narrowed eyes that would’ve struck fear in anyone else—not him. “You finally get it,” she said.

  Chapter 5

  THE DAYS RAN SLOW and fast altogether. With such a great distance between the fighting in Ludorum and the Lionessan Capital, the spies and messengers were slow. Hours were spent waiting on them, hoping one would arrive with some news. When none did, however, the day felt wasted. While they dealt with matters of importance to their own kingdoms, the threat of the potential fall of the King of Ludorum to rebels lingered in the back of all of their minds.

  Arriving for supper in the dining hall, the temptation to let the outside world remain as such grew strong, each and every one of them desperate to immerse themselves into a world more forgiving than the one they had been born, or married, into.

  Queen Sybelle took her rightful place at the head of her table. Deros sat to her right, where he always had, and it was though nothing had changed—as though she’d never been gone.

  Riffin sat at his mother’s other side, with Malia on his other, delighted to take the concerns off their shoulders long enough to have their meal.

  Neyva sat beside her father, smiling cordially over her shoulder as Thane tucked her chair in. “We should be receiving word from the outposts shortly, your Majesty,” Thane said, seating himself beside her.

  “Enough talk of politics,” Neyva whispered, placing her hand over his.

  Riffin glanced up from his chalice, chuckling. “How things have changed,” he chided, playfully. “It was once you who wouldn’t cease talking business at the table.”

  She laughed softly, somewhat sheepish. “Until I found someone more business-minded than I am,” she said. “Thane takes if further than I do. He doesn’t rest.”

  They all broke into laughter, both at their banter, and at the rosiness burning into Thane’s cheeks as he was scolded amongst the others.

  “Perhaps the union between you two will help you both strike a balance,” the Queen said, raising her glass. She hid her smile behind the rim of her cup as she drew it to her lips, her eyes falling to Neyva’s hand over Thane’s.

  “I, for one, find this union to be just about the best part of this entire mess,” Deros said, his jaw tense. “Your marriage to a man as good as Thane was the only moment I knew I needn’t worry.”

  Knowing the circumstances of the situation, Malia shifted with some discomfort. The manner in which it had all come about couldn’t go unmentioned—they wanted an arranged marriage to be a rare act of desperation, not a convenient blessing. “Understandably, however, she didn’t feel the same,” she said.

  “And she needn’t have,” Thane said, quickly. Their smiles dropped as they looked to him, admiring the severity in his eyes, even when he couldn’t look at them. “Her Majesty fought for the right for her family to marry whomever they pleased—I would never have liked to be involved in dissolving that right.”

  Riffin cleared his throat, “For all I did wrong, I’m grateful for this much,” he said. “That I could trust my best friend to do what I couldn’t and to protect my sister, and I’m grateful my sister found it in her heart to give him a chance to do it.”

  Neyva’s glare in her brother’s direction softened and she glanced Thane’s way instead. “I’m glad for it too,” she whispered.

  Sharing smiles all around, hunger began to sink in. The aromatics of the food placed on the table sank into the pits of their stomachs, reminding them of their purpose there and the discussion became a great deal lighter as they began to help themselves.

  “Where are your mother and father tonight?” the Queen asked, looking to Malia.

  “Dining in their chambers,” she replied. “I think they quite like the quiet sometimes.”

  They all laughed softly. They would all quite enjoy the silence, especially after the long days, filled with the comings and goings of messengers from across the kingdoms. Unfortunately for them, the quiet in that regard often led to more concern. Were their spies caught? Was their messenger stopped somewhere?

  Thane’s laughter came to a near abrupt stop as he coughed, his cutlery clattering onto his plate. He caught Neyva’s arm quickly, taking her by surprise. “Stop eating,” he croaked.

  They needn’t think twice. The panic on his face told them everything. They each dropped their cutlery, wiping their hands and mouths in their napkins, watching him.

  Rising to his feet, hunched over, Thane dropped the napkin from his lap onto the table as the white fabric blossomed a vibrant red. His fingers came to his nose as it trickled with blood, all the while scrambling over the contents of his plate. “I didn’t taste anything,” he whispered.

  Neyva’s hand fell to his back, horrified as he reached for his cup of wine, about to sip it. “Absolutely not,” she said, seizing it from his grasp.

  “I need to know where its come from,” he said. His eyes widened. He pressed the back of his fingers to his mouth, backing away from the table with a sudden urgency.

  Quick on his feet, Deros rushed to the nearest vase, dumping out the flowers without a second thought, and held it out to him.

  Stubborn, Thane shook his head, refusing to let himself be sick as he scrunched his eyes shut. His face turned red with the strain and he gradually doubled over, forcing himself upright with about all the strength he could manage.

  Riffin was quickest, throwing his arms across his back, steadying him. With his shoulders in his grasp, he shook
him gently. “Cough it up,” he whispered. “You’ll be fine.”

  Be it desperation, the inability to hold it in any longer, or the safety of her brother’s arms around him, Thane lurched forward, clinging to the vase in front of him with pale, blood-stained hands as he heaved.

  Riffin propped him up, bearing his full weight while Deros dragged a chair closer. “I need to—” Cut short by his own weakness, Thane collapsed into his seat, winded and shaken.

  Neyva dropped to her knees beside him, squeezing his shoulder as she wiped the sweat from his brow and the blood from his nose. “You’re all right,” she said, breathlessly. “You’re all right,” she hoped.

  Chapter 6

  LIGHT ON HER FEET, Neyva followed Thane around the kitchens as he sifted through every ingredient used to prepare their meals that day. Alarmed by his presence, frightened by his orders, horrified by the blood dripping from his nose, the cooks and servants came to a stop, waiting to see what he would unearth from within their pantry.

  No poison worked as fast as that—nothing that might’ve troubled him and not the rest of them. It was something else—something only he had eaten and something he’d had earlier in the day, at the very least.

  He stopped, hands on the table as he steadied himself. The world around him moved too fast. He scrunched his eyes shut, forcing back the burning sensation in his chest as he shifted his weight to throw off the pain.

  Neyva got closer, placing a hand on the small of his back—the heat radiating from her resembled fire against him. “You need to lie down,” she said.

  Stifling a groan of pain, releasing nothing but a short gasp, he shook his head and pushed beyond the growing discomfort. “I need to find out where it came from,” he said, more to himself than to her.

  “You need to rest,” she said.

  He wiped his eyes, vanquishing the fog that descended upon his vision. “My meal earlier,” he said, turning to the servants, “the fruit—”

  “Came straight off the trees they grew on,” came the prompt, stammered reply of the head cook.