The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  Her tone cracked then. It broke her heart to know the extent to which Thane had gone to make his father proud, knowing that it all came down to nothing—and Thane never hated him for it.

  Ewin shifted, cocking his head back, staring at the ceiling.

  “He hasn’t deviated from that path because you failed or because he did,” she said. “He deviated because it was right. He deviated because he needed to. He deviated because I love him as much as he loves me—and giving into that was the most natural progression of everything we have endured.”

  “Maybe he wouldn’t be in this state if love hadn’t been such a distraction,” he retorted.

  Bowing her head, she smiled, “You’ve mistaken me for an insecure little girl who might take your words to heart,” she said. “The love of this family has kept him alive. Goodness knows it hasn’t been you or his mother here tending to him.”

  Ewin lowered his head then, biting back a response.

  She raised a brow, noting his solitary presence and the absence of a rebuttal. “Does his mother know?” she asked. “Does she even know you’re here?”

  He shifted his weight—a habit Thane developed from him. “I’ve spared her the details,” he replied.

  Her smile grew wider then, her eyes absent any amusement, “Hoping to spare yourself her anger of having done this to him, I suppose,” she said.

  He half turned to her, his mouth twisted and nose crinkled in disgust. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “He was poisoned.”

  She pursed her lips together, cocking her head from side to side. “He never tasted a poison—you and I both know he’s too good for that. The food has been checked, everyone else who ate from the food has done so without incident. It would seem to us, the poisons causing his suffering now are the ones you gave him.”

  Ewin’s mouth fell open but nothing escaped him. Her words sank in and horror, mixed with disbelief, filled his gaze.

  Her heart cracked in her chest at the words about to part her lips. Feeling the sting in the back of her eyes, she looked elsewhere, though she didn’t care that he saw her vulnerability. “Dying because of you and I don’t think its ever crossed his mind to blame you for it—that’s the extent to which you’ve manipulated his mind into believing duty at all cost was all that mattered.”

  Ewin rangled with his thoughts, her revelations far more than he came to the palace prepared to bear when he arrived with nothing but anger and blame in his heart.

  She licked her lips, clearing her throat of all semblance of emotion. Holding her head up high, she stared down her nose at him. “Since giving an order is about the only way to get you to do the right thing then take this as such,” she said. He lifted his eyes to meet hers and she ascertained he could feel her gaze in the very depths of his soul. “You’re going to go in there, you’re going to visit your son, and you’re going to have nothing but love and respect for the way he has conducted his life.” She didn’t wait for a reply, didn’t wait for him to make an excuse, or potentially retort bitterly. “Have I made myself clear?” she asked.

  He eased somewhat, his fighting spirit gone. “Crystal,” he replied.

  She turned to Thane’s chambers, opening the door, about to prompt him in, when a voice cut through. “I would like a word with Ewin if you don’t mind,” the Queen said.

  All tension returned to Ewin’s stance.

  The Queen nodded, dismissing Neyva from the conversation.

  Neyva stepped inside, but she didn’t dare go far. Instead, she leaned against the wall, the door left ajar, and listened.

  “You were wrong,” the Queen said, approaching Ewin.

  “What about?”

  She moved again, her heels clicking against the floor. “You were wrong when you insisted my son would see it your way,” she said. “I’m glad for it.” She paused—Ewin didn’t say another word. “You might’ve put it in your son’s head that he failed that test all those years ago, but my son passed a test we never set for him.”

  “What test?” Ewin asked, beyond confused.

  “My son chose his humanity—and I, for one, couldn’t be happier,” she said, cheer in her tone. She paused again, and Neyva leaned into the door, listening for the sound of her breaths. “I won’t let you condemn your son for doing the same—not when it’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him—not after I did nothing, watching you torture him all these years.”

  “You never stopped me,” he said.

  “I feared the prospect that you could see something I couldn’t—that you saw a need for this more than I could, that I might’ve regretted standing in your way. I won’t be ruled by fear any longer—not at my age.” She heaved a sigh and Neyva held her breath, still on the other side of the door, feeling the Queen’s presence getting ever closer. “Far be it from me to stand in the way of my children’s wants, you should get in there and do as you’ve been told,” she said.

  Light on her feet, Neyva pulled herself away from the door. Returning to her husband’s bedside, finding him awake, she offered him a rehearsed smile.

  Chapter 12

  GLASSY EYED, WEAK, THANE grimaced as he shifted to get comfortable. Each and every one of them around him held their breath, leaning forward, ready to aid him with whatever he needed. Breathing out a sigh, he glared at them from beneath his lashes, “I’m fine,” he whispered.

  He wasn’t fine. They knew it. He knew it. Riffin couldn’t believe he dared even feign it. “You should go back to sleep,” he said.

  Thane scrubbed at his eyes, “That’s all I’ve done,” he said. “Tell me something else.”

  Ewin and the Queen approached, standing over Riffin’s shoulder, and Thane went to lift himself, addressing her.

  Deros and Riffin lurched forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Stay,” they said in unison.

  Thane mustered a smile in the Queen’s direction, offering a silent apology for his inability to greet her as her station suggested.

  “Are you being kept comfortable?” she asked.

  The smile on his lips twitched. He looked no one person in the eye, his stare broken, glistening. “More than I deserve,” he replied.

  “Don’t say that,” his father chided gently.

  Nobody missed the subtle glare Thane shot in his father’s direction—there was no mistaking it. “You’ve all got matters of greater importance,” he whispered. “You should go.”

  Everyone had a rebuttal on their lips within seconds, but it was the Queen who shook her head and replied first, “All those that can be spared will be here to care for you.” Her words came as a relief, if not to Thane than to Riffin. But that relief was short-lived and he tensed as soon as his mother’s hand fell to his shoulder. “There’s been a change of plans,” she said. “We need to go now.”

  Riffin licked his lips, hanging his head. Slumped at Thane’s bedside, he didn’t have it in him to stand and leave—not yet. Looking to Malia, his gaze softened but his tone remained solid. “Will you pack light for me?” he asked. “I’d like a minute,” he said.

  Reluctant but understanding, Malia left first with a task to perform. Ewin left next, with Deros and Neyva in tow.

  The Queen put on a smile, reaching out to squeeze his pale hand. “I’ll see you when I get back,” she said.

  Marvelling at his mother’s profile as she pulled away, Riffin swore he could see her eyes shining, her lips wobbling even as she smiled.

  “Thank you, your Majesty,” Thane replied, “for everything.”

  The Queen said nothing else, leaning in again, pressing a kiss to Thane’s forehead. She moved swiftly as she pulled away, sucking in a deep breath when she turned her back on them.

  The silence lingered between them once she left, a mix of remorse and frustration hanging in the air.

  “I should be going with you,” Thane said.

  “You’re staying behind,” Riffin replied. Summoning all strength to do so, he smiled, adding, “I’ll do this one without you.”


  Thane smiled. “You won’t make it without me,” he teased.

  Riffin chuckled but Thane’s attempt at lightening the mood wasn’t lost on him, only serving to highlight the gravity of their situation that much more. He raked his fingers through his hair, the laughter dying down in his chest, leaving him hollow and echoing nothing but the fear within his chest. “I need you to make it without me,” he said.

  Thane glanced his way, his breaths shallow. “Please don’t ask me to make promises I can’t keep,” he whispered. He shook his head, his eyes burning, eyelashes damp and fluttering. “You know I’d do anything—”

  Riffin choked against the words, squeezing his eyes shut against the sting of tears. “I know,” he said. “Which is why I’m letting you do it—why I’m giving you permission to let go.” He sucked in a deep breath and felt himself about to be sick as he forced his words through the swell of emotion constricting his chest.

  Thane’s surprise, confusion even, married together with a relief of sorts, did little to make him feel better. He scrubbed at his eyes, breathing shakily. “Fight as much as you can and for as long as you can,” he said. He sucked in another deep breath, puffing out his chest, mustering the confidence with which to speak. “But, if you get tired and...you can’t go on anymore, I won’t blame you for giving in.”

  Thane’s eyelids fell shut and Riffin’s next breath caught in the back of his throat. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I mean that, really.”

  Riffin nodded, sucking in a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe what he was saying anymore. He couldn’t believe it’d come to this. Grateful as Thane was to be given the freedom to let himself go, he couldn’t keep himself from taking it back somewhat. The thought of this being the last time—to never see him again—frightened him more than he was willing to admit. “Just promise me you’ll fight first,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’d like to see you when I get back, if you can make it that long.”

  Mustering a smile, Thane glanced his way. “Do you really want to have to go through this all again?” he asked.

  Unable to muster the same amusement Thane did, Riffin met his gaze, deadpan. “A thousand times over if it proves your worth to you,” he said.

  The smile on Thane’s lips never wavered. Instead, he eased further into the comforts of his bed, about as content as he could be while his body failed him the way it did. “Go,” he said, finally, closing his eyes. “Be the King you’re destined to be and come back to your family.”

  Hanging his head, Riffin rose to his feet. He lingered at his bedside a moment longer, watching his chest rise and fall as slumber took him. He pulled away reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to stay.

  But he had a duty—and Thane wouldn’t live with himself—were that still possible—if he got in the way of that.

  Leaving, he found his mother waiting for him in the corridor by herself. “Ewin?” he asked, noting the man’s absence.

  “Has thought it wise to go back and tell his wife of their son’s state,” she said.

  He resisted rolling his eyes. “Seems like an excuse,” he said, incapable of biting his tongue.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she replied, softly. “Your father will be here—he’ll be in good hands.”

  They’d be caring hands, to be sure, but he didn’t think it would be enough. “I don’t think good hands will be of much help—not anymore,” he said, turning his back on her.

  The inkling to ask what it was that prompted their earlier departure from Lionessa tickled the back of his mind, only for the onslaught of grief to be a great deal stronger than duty. He dragged his feet as he tore himself away from Thane’s chambers with the misguided hope that doing so would turn his attention back towards the task at hand. He didn’t need reasons for the moment, after all, he told himself. The journey ahead of them would give them ample opportunity to discuss it.

  In his chambers, Malia handed him the leather satchel almost as soon as he entered. “I feel like I can pack blind by now,” she said, regretfully, watching as he swung it over a shoulder.

  Leaning in and brushing his lips over hers, he whispered, “It won’t be forever.”

  They didn’t stop to consider the lie that may as well have passed his lips. The truth was, there was no guarantee of anything.

  “Come back soon,” she whispered, even while knowing he had very little choice in the matter.

  Words came to mind, resting on the tip of his tongue, but all he did was nod. If they were quiet, if they just remained hopeful, they could live a moment in the ignorant bliss that their life was entirely in their hands. He leaned in, cupping her face in his hand when he kissed her. “Stay safe,” he said. “I cannot lose you too.”

  She squeezed both his hands, kissing the back of his fingers. “Likewise,” she whispered.

  Four carriages, each one prepared with provisions to last them until they reaches Lionessa’s boarder walls, sat in the front square of the Capital awaiting their departure when he arrived.

  Each one, emblazoned with the markings of a royal carriage, only one was readied to the Queen’s specifications.

  His mother trailed behind, next out the door as she too had said her goodbyes and moved to join him for the journey. His father kissed her through the window of the carriage, wishing her safe passage, before pulling himself away and turning towards the palace.

  Riffin made no move to join her, though not because he had any attention of staying behind. He entered a separate carriage, seating himself, throwing one leg over the other.

  It wasn’t unusual for him to be separated from his mother—those in line for a throne were often kept apart from others in the line of succession in case of an attack.

  It had never been as quiet as this though. He’d never sat alone, entirely unaccompanied.

  Thane had been on just about every journey he’d ever embarked on—and that had been a lot. He’d joined him on every trip to Azura to visit Malia, on every visit to Ludorum, on every visit to Evrad. He’d always been there, making their tiresome journey feel a great deal less so. They would joke, they would tell stories, they would laugh until their sides ached. Even the silences between them were filled with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, always providing a level of comfort he never knew he’d miss until this moment.

  He heard a guard yell to another in the distance. Distant, they spoke. He cocked his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling.

  Just as he expected the carriage to lurch forward, the door opened instead. Bracing herself against either side of the door, assisting by a guard, his mother climbed in with a gentle sigh.

  Without another word, she seated herself across from him.

  Her presence came as a surprise, but the grief was a great deal stronger than that. He didn’t lift his head, glancing her way as she shifted and made herself comfortable, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

  She took a deep breath, glancing his way. “I’m your mother,” she said, “and I won’t let you go through this alone.”

  Touching, he thought. “You’re also my Queen,” he said, “and the crown takes precedence.”

  Without another word, she smiled. She slipped her hand out the window and, with a flick of her wrist, the carriage started to move.

  Chapter 13

  ARRIVING AT THE LIONESSAN walls just before dark, the urgency of the matter became a great deal clearer.

  At the fortification that housed their great numbers, awaiting their orders, Gyles greeted them briskly once they arrived in one of the towers. “Word has arrived from our spies,” he declared, regret in his tone. “The rebels have decided to make a move for an armoury,” he said.

  Stretching his legs as he leaned into the table, Riffin blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “what?”

  His mother swallowed, sighing. The news didn’t quite seem like news to her. “Niles had a cach
e of weapons,” she said. “It was defended by one he trusted but, it would seem, there was a traitor amongst those ranks too.”

  “Are we surprised?” Riffin murmured, bitterly.

  “The location of the armoury has been conveyed to the rebels by a sympathiser of sorts,” Gyles said. “The rebels have decided to make a move towards it before moving to storm the castle. On the one hand, it’s bought us some time. On the other—”

  Riffin threw a hand up, returning to standing at his full height, “It means nothing,” he said. “Weapons are useless if they don’t have the bodies to man them.”

  Gyles cocked his head to one side, “That’s the concern,” he said. “One would assume they’ll start pushing for more bodies en route towards the palace.”

  “Like who?” he asked. “Anyone who is willing to fight will have joined the fight regardless.”

  “The concern is they might start pushing others,” his mother said. “They’ll make threats towards those that don’t agree with them, drudge up the numbers by taking men and women from villages who have no interest in the fight.”

  He raised a brow, “Threaten them to fight for their cause?” he asked.

  His mother lowered herself into her seat, tapping her steepled fingers against her bottom lip. “Wouldn’t you?” she asked. “If they came to your door, asking you to take up arms against another—threaten your wife and children if you don’t—wouldn’t you do it?”

  Gyles pursed his lips together, dropping his gaze. “They’ll be the worst kind of fighters. Men like that will be fuelled to succeed. If they fail and the King lives, their families suffer anyway.”

  Riffin shrugged a shoulder. He couldn’t say he wasn’t sympathetic to their plight. After all, they weren’t too different, him and them. They all had their reasons. They all fought. That’s what it meant to survive. “What do we do then?” he asked.