The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  “We turn back,” his mother replied with a sigh, hanging her head. “We withdraw our support—we can’t be seen slaughtering innocents, putting ourselves at the forefront of a war.”

  Riffin blinked in confusion, shaking his head with growing adamance. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”

  Her mouth fell open but, seeing the roaring determination in his eyes, she closed it again, willing to listen before shutting him down.

  “We didn’t come this far—didn’t go through all of this—just to turn back and let it all fall apart.”

  She breathed out a patient sigh. “Saving Niles and Pietros could cost hundreds—maybe even thousands—of innocent lives. I was happy to give them the support, the show of force, as long as they were just rebels but… If innocent, unwilling participants are going to be dragged into this—”

  He slammed his hands down onto the table. “No!” he said. “You said it yourself! If the rebels get to Niles and Pietros, it’ll fuel our nobles to turn against us!”

  “We’ll have to take actions to see to it that that doesn’t happen—we’ll have to appease the nobles in—”

  “No!” he growled, shoving himself away from the table. “There won’t be any appeasing of traitors and treasonous bastards!” He approached her, domineering as he loomed over her, “You did everything to persuade me that saving Niles and Pietros was in our interest—there was no alternative, no action you deemed comparable to the benefits of saving them. Our armies will march on Ludorum and quash the rebels, even if we have to tear through every poor fucking soul that stands in our way.”

  Storming from the room, he kicked a crate of provisions along the way, leaving ruin in his wake. Smashed fruit adhered to his boots, dragging sludge down the corridor as he came towards a door that would lead him out onto the Lionessan walls. He walked for as long as he could manage, basking in the sensation of the icy breeze, counteracting the burning heat of his skin.

  Filling his lungs with a deep breath did nothing but remind him of his rage, reminding him of the hollow corners of his soul that caused the deepest of aches within his chest, tearing at his heart.

  Having taken herself away from the matter at hand, far less troubled by the change of plans, she lowered herself beside him.

  He clutched his hands together, hanging his head and constricted the breath in his lungs, attempting to steady the racing of his heart.

  Much like always, she maintained the silence between them. She didn’t work to fill the conversation with an argument of her own, to impose her thoughts and feelings into a situation only made worse by them. Instead, she sat, quietly, waiting to listen.

  But nothing had changed since he was a child. Considering the Queen and the Mother as two separate entities, he bit back his feelings until she made crystal clear which one was sitting beside him, and which one he was speaking to.

  “Is this about Thane?” she asked, softly.

  He lowered his head further, palms clasped over his ears as his fingers tangled in the dark hair on the back of his scalp. “How can I go back home and say that I’ve done everything in my power to keep my family safe?” he asked. “I’m not like you—I can’t just bury my loved ones and move on.”

  “Is that what you think I do?” she asked, raising a brow. “That I just bury people and move on?”

  He shook his head. No, he didn’t, but her feelings paled in comparison to his own—it certainly felt like they affected him a great deal more than they did her.

  “Losing my brother... You were right. That was the catalyst for everything,” she said. “I went to war over that boy. I carried his ghost with me. I named my son after him, not just to honour him but to remind myself of what it was I was trying to protect.”

  He heaved a sigh and his eyes stung against the breeze. “You make it look so easy,” he murmured with unbridled resentment.

  “You were too young to see me then,” she said. “You weren’t yet born when your father left, betraying me for his family in Ludorum. The grief...” She paused, shaking her head and breathing out a shaky sigh. “It tore me apart the same way Thane’s state tears you apart now—and I was determined to do the same thing to an entire kingdom.”

  He scoffed, glancing her way. “And why didn’t you?” he asked.

  “There was a great deal on my mind,” she replied, with relative ease. “My mind was clouded by vengeance but it was clouded by a great deal more than than that too.” She paused then, her lips parted with the lingering temptation to elaborate and the uncertainty of doing so. “I had my responsibilities to think about—you, my people, the innocents caught in between it all.”

  He scoffed again, catching her by surprise, and shook his head. “Your sense of morality is a fickle one,” he said. “You still intended on marching on Ludorum.”

  A glimmer of a smile flickered in her eye, though she glanced elsewhere in an effort to hide it. “Yours is no different,” she said, “and I wouldn’t want for it any other way.”

  A chill ran down his spine. What was she saying? To give in to the darkness? How could she vouch for doing this all any differently if...

  She turned to face him, her grievous stare enough to cut off his train of thought. “Morality means little to me when it comes to those of us in our position,” she said. “What matters most is that thoughts for the innocent come first—we protect them.”

  His brows twitched together.

  “When your father betrayed me for Ludorum, my fight was with him—I wouldn’t be repeating my mistakes in Evrad. No innocent lives would suffer at my hand.”

  No innocent lives. None that were innocent.

  Realisation hit him. He turned to face her entirely, brow raised. “And everyone else?” he asked. “Are they fair game?”

  It was her turn to appear confused, brows furrowed at the upbeat pitch in his voice.

  He raked his fingers through his hair, licking his lips as he rose to his feet, his mind moving faster than he could. “I have an idea,” he said.

  She shook her head, blinking through her confusion. “I’m sorry,” she said. “An idea for what?”

  They were wasting time. Without another word, he rushed down the path from which he’d came. She’d discover his plans along with everyone else, when actions would be put into motion.

  Chapter 14

  HER WARM CHEEK FLUSH against the pillow, Neyva shuffled along the bed. Having laid there for some time, watching the rising and falling of Thane’s chest as he slumbered, the world around her had shifted out of focus until she’d given in to her need to sleep.

  Wiping her face, she blinked until her vision cleared. Thane hadn’t moved in the last hour, nothing more than a few short grimaces that crossed his features, the occasional cough that tickled the back of his throat. None of it had been enough to stir him and, while the unconscious world he remained in worried her, the reminder that he was still alive brought her peace of mind.

  Subtle and cautious, she inched closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. The shirt, once dry beneath her palm, stuck to his skin, absorbing the sweat. “You needn’t be here,” he whispered, no sign of having been startled by her touch.

  “Where else should I be?” she asked, quietly.

  “Anywhere else,” he said, glancing her way.

  While a hint of playfulness lingered in her tone, hoping to keep the mood light, none of it could be seen in his eyes. Gradually, the light escaped them. Once full of jokes, sarcastic and playful remarks, a laugh in between every groan of agony meant to ease their minds, that all started to dissipate over time.

  She lifted herself onto her side, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m staying,” she whispered.

  Arguing with her caused him more grief. It pained him to do it—she reckoned he knew it came from a good place—thus, he didn’t bother.

  Knocking on his door had long been abolished, with no one willing to disturb his potential for slumber. Quietly, Malia entered.

  Much li
ke Neyva did, she mustered a smile at the sight of him awake. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  Unlike Malia, Neyva had long given up asking him how he was feeling. The answer was always the same.

  “I’m all right,” he replied.

  He was all right for a man who was sick. He was all right for a man who was dying. He might’ve accepted his fate, or given it very little thought, but, either way, he never thought to elaborate on the state he found himself in.

  “Are you comfortable?” she asked. “Do you require anything?”

  He shook his head. “Have you heard from Riffin? Is everything all right?” he asked. Placing a hand at his side, he shifted to lift himself further against the pillows, shielding his expression from Malia, hiding the strain, behind his blond hair.

  Neyva moved closer, placing her hand over his. “Easy,” she whispered.

  Malia maintained her smile, even if it pained her to do so. “We have,” she said. “Advancement is slow but they’re optimistic.”

  He nodded, bracing himself as he leaned back into the cushions. “That’s good,” he said.

  Licking her lips, Malia’s gaze flickered Neyva’s way. “Might I have Neyva for a moment?” she asked. “Would that be all right?”

  Thane smiled then, “Take her,” he said, playfully.

  Neyva laughed and bit back an equally playful retort. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, swiping the sweat from his cheek. “I’ll be back soon,” she said.

  He didn’t nod, nor acknowledge her words. Instead, he clutched the back of her head gently, brushing his lips over hers. If only for a second, their foreheads rested against one another’s, his fingers entangled in her hair, as though holding onto the moment for as long as possible. Her heart warmed and she couldn’t help but inch closer, kissing the palm of his hand before kissing him. “I won’t be long,” she said.

  He nodded slowly, squeezing her a little bit tighter before letting go. “Don’t worry about me,” he said.

  Well-intentioned as he might’ve been, it wasn’t an option for her. Even as she pulled away from him, following Malia out of the room, her heart ached.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Thane moved enough to replenish his throat with a sip of water. She paused, lingering in the doorway, just in case he struggled. When he cocked his head back against his pillows, running his fingers through his hair, she allowed herself to leave.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. Between the heat of the bed and Thane’s feverish state, stepping out into the corridor caused a chill to run down his spine.

  “There’s been a problem,” Malia sighed. “To think a show of force would make this matter simple was a mistake.”

  Neyva shook her head, flustered by the cryptic nature of her words. “What happened?” she asked, unable to bite back her impatience.

  “The rebels got their hands on more weapons—they’ll be arming civilians,” she said.

  She felt a strike of something—she reckoned it would be fear, were it capable of cutting through the tension that never seemed to abate that she already carried with her. “Will they be turning back?” she asked.

  Malia’s hands were shaking, to the point that she tucked them beneath her arms as she folded them over her chest. “They’ll persist,” she said. “They’ve summoned my father to take Manus Baran to them.”

  Neyva took a step closer, not unfeeling to the clear worry in her eyes. “What do they want with him?” she asked.

  Malia swallowed thickly, shaking her head and shrugging a shoulder, “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  Neyva got closer, placing a hand over hers. “How has your mother taken it?” she asked.

  “She wanted to go too, of course,” she said, laughing helplessly. “I told her I needed her here.”

  They weren’t meant to be apart—everybody knew that.

  Shakily, Malia let out a deep breath. “I cannot have her leave as well,” she said. “If the Queen and Riffin... If they don’t make it, if there’s a substitution, I need her to be here.”

  She was right. The prospect of losing the Queen and her Heir in a single battle had been reason enough to go about it differently. But it was important for them both to be seen taking a stand and circumstance could very well see Malia as Regent, Deros as advisor, and one of Riffin’s infant daughters on the throne before long.

  “Any word on what their plan is?” Neyva asked.

  Malia pursed her lips together and shook her head. “The letter was brief,” she said. “They said they were all right, and that they needed my father and Manus.”

  Neyva’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you need of me?” she asked. “How can I help?”

  Malia mustered a smile again, forlorn. “Nothing,” she said. “I just thought you should know.”

  Neyva wrapped her arms tighter around herself, granting her a grateful smile.

  Malia saddened a little further then. While Malia had brought this to her, needing to unburden herself, she recognised Neyva’s need to do the same. “How is he?” she asked.

  The smile on her lips faltered then. She tried not to give it too much thought, preferring to treat the symptoms, rather than dwell on their influence. “Himself,” she said. “I admire his ability to hold himself together,” she said, her voice cracking. He was succeeding where she failed. The more she thought about him, the more the next phase in his illness seemed the most natural.

  Malia smiled sympathetically. She struggled not to feel the same way but, nonetheless, she took a deep breath and spoke, “Why don’t I stay with him?” she asked. “You’re tired. You can go and get some rest.”

  Neyva shook her head, swallowing the lump of emotion that had swelled in the back of her throat. “I want to be with him,” she said.

  Although she might’ve wished she chose differently, Malia wasn’t any less understanding.

  Striking the tears from her eyes, Neyva went to return to Thane’s chambers. She pushed down on the handle with her usual might, only for the door never to budge, even as she pressed her shoulder to the hard wooden surface. Locked.

  She seized breathing for a second, hit by a wave of panic. A hot flush tingled at her skin, then a chilling sensation. She pounded at the door with the palm of her hand, one strike after another. “Thane!” she called. “Thane, please open up!”

  “You cannot stay,” she heard him say, muffled through the door.

  Of course she could. The tears returned to her eyes, driven by the fear and the panic. Having heard her screams, two guards made their way down the corridors at a brisk pace. “Open it,” she said.

  Blinking with confusion, one of the guards did as he was told, ramming his shoulder against the door repeatedly. It gave way for just a second. “Enough!” Thane shouted from the other side. “Please, enough.” He grew tired, his voice breaking as he went from barking an order to pleading.

  Neyva approached the door again and Malia dismissed the guards with a flick of her wrist. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “You’ve seen enough,” Thane replied. His voice sounded further away now, lower even. He slumped on the other side of the door, resting on the ground, most likely.

  She had to fight her urge to persist. He rivalled her in stubbornness. If she continued her fight to get inside, he’d continue his fight to keep her out—and likely kill himself trying. He was too weak for this but it killed her to think giving up, letting him put distance between them, would spare him greater pain.

  Dropping to her knees, placing her shoulder against the door, her eyes prickled. If she closed them, she could pretend, just for a moment, that nothing kept them apart. She could pretend she was resting on his hard shoulder instead, listening to the sound of his breathing, and the whispers of his words in her ear.

  “You don’t need to see anymore,” he said.

  She scrunched her eyes shut and the tears poured down her cheeks. “I love you,” she said.

  He paused and the silence had her clasp
ing at the door, waiting with bated breath for a reply. “I know,” he said. “You’ve loved me more than I ever deserved.”

  She shook her head, rolling her forehead against the door, grabbing fistfuls of the skirts of her dress to keep from pounding at the cruel divide between them.

  “I want you to be happy,” he said. “Whatever that might mean, I want you to be happy.”

  She scoffed. She couldn’t imagine anything less possible. Did he think she would just forget him? Did he think she could just forget what he meant to her, and replace him with another? So much as the thought of living alongside another man caused a shiver to run through her. How could they have been talking about their lives together just some days ago, only to have to try to imagine that life with somebody else? She couldn’t do it. She refused to do it. It was her life with him or it was her life with nobody else. A life without him… She couldn’t imagine what that life might look like. She couldn’t stand the thought of it.

  “You’re strong,” he said, as though he could sense her thoughts. “You’ll survive this too.”

  She drew her knees up to her chest, sobbing into her skirts now. Fingers tangled in her hair, her next breath caught in the back of her throat, threatening to take her from this world long before he did.

  “I’m not leaving you behind because I want to go,” he said. She shuddered, wondering how or why he would possibly say that. “My only hope is that you’ll never harbour the same feelings towards me as you do your mother.”

  She shook her head, hearing his words clear as day. She breathed again, if only long enough to tell him, “Never,” she said. Her mother left of her own free will, driven by her own ambitions for a future that never included her. This was nowhere near the same.

  She and Thane... They could’ve had a future together. He wanted a future together.

  “Go,” he said, a slight pitch in his voice—whatever strength he could manage. “Your days of tending to me are behind you.”