by Kyra Gregory
Riffin breathed a sigh.
“Love is the reason people like us get up, go back, time and time again, no matter the hardships.”
On that, they could most certainly agree.
Coming to an abrupt stop, Riffin bit the inside of his cheek at the body that lay at his feet. Dishevelled, absent the smirk he knew him to possess, was Manus Baran. “He fought hard—valiantly, even. Never put a foot wrong.”
Riffin crouched beside him and his gaze dropped to the wound beneath his shoulder. A sword, short and thin, but mighty enough to slip through his loose armour, had punctured him beneath the arm, bypassing his ribs. It wouldn’t have been enough to kill him immediately, but enough to incapacitate him long enough to bleed out on the battlefield. Another two bodies were close, blood pooled on the ground where another may have laid—he may even have taken out three men before he went down.
He wanted to feel pleasure. He wanted to feel joy at the thought that the man who had given him such trouble in the last year was finally dead. But he didn’t. Far be it from him to think the man didn’t deserve it, but a small part of him, an inkling in the back of his mind, reminded him that Manus may’ve just been a man like any other that lost their lives that day. Like any other, he may have just been following orders.
Clearing his throat, Riffin rose to his full height. “I’m a man of my word,” he said. “His family will be spared being marked as traitors.” He looked back to the guards in the distance, gesturing to Manus’s body. He might’ve stood against him once, but he was still one of his own, and he would be claimed as such. “He may’ve lost his life today, but he’s won his family their wealth and position.”
That would mean something to him—he knew that. Jared, Riffin, his father, they were all the same. There was no length they wouldn’t go to for their family. Manus Baran couldn’t have been too different.
Chapter 18
STOOD OUT ON THE balcony beside the dining hall, taking in a breath of fresh air, everything felt so much more lonesome.The touch of the cool breeze against Neyva’s skin highlighted the paths of tears down her cheeks, the chill tingling, rushing down her spine. Her heart felt as though it was racing but growing increasingly weak, incapable of going on much longer. Every breath she took almost caught in the back of her throat, threatening to be her last.
Breathing deeply did little to relieve her of the dread, of the anxiety and the heart ache. Standing felt like too much. Sitting felt too still. Sleep evaded her.
“I worried about having to endure it by myself too,” a soft voice piped up, cutting through the silence she had basked in for over an hour.
Glancing over her shoulder, she found Kara leaning into the open doorway, partly hidden behind it. Faced with her silent confusion, Kara dropped her gaze.
Following her line of sight, Neyva looked to where one of her hands at fallen.
The hand holding the stone banister was of little importance—nobody would be surprised at the sight of her clinging to it for support, hoping to keep herself standing.
The hand she’d dropped to her stomach, on the other hand, could draw some attention from those who knew what to look for—and Kara knew what to look for. “As slender as ever, just ever so slightly unsettled, momentarily startled by a queasy sensation,” she started.
Kara was a woman of very few words. She’d spent the last eighteen years in their company and, yet, never quite got used to making conversation. She kept much to herself, only ever truly coming out of her shell around her family, as well as the Queen. Neyva had never quite fallen into that category with her, though that didn’t seem to stop Kara from making the effort this time.
Neyva couldn’t quite make out her expression as she replied to her suspicions with silence, very much unsure of what she could possibly say, or if Kara cared at all to hear it.
Slowly, she pulled herself away from the door, closing it quietly behind herself before approaching.
Neyva turned her back on her, racked by so many emotions she couldn’t fathom any of them. When in doubt, she thought, strip emotion from it all and state the facts. Swiping her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her fingers as she turned her attentions back to the view, steadying herself once more, she spoke quietly. “I’m not so sure.”
Kara gave her the once over, offering her a smile, “Time will tell,” she said.
Neyva couldn’t help but smile. It certainly would. Too many feelings raged on within her, clouding one another as they fought for dominance, to ever consider how she would feel either way. When the day came—when she would be certain, one way or another—how would she feel about it? Would she despise, fret and sob over having to go through this all alone, or would she find herself delighted by the prospect of holding onto something that kept Thane alive to her?
“I was alone too, when I discovered I was carrying again,” Kara said.
Neyva glanced her way, blinking until her vision cleared. Kara didn’t appear troubled by her revelation, though she seemed to close herself off as she immersed herself in the memory. Her arms, folded across her chest, rested against the cold stone bannister, while her eyes remained focused on the view in the distance.
“When I found out the first time, I lived on a ship, no port to call home, a fugitive, and the only man who might possibly have been capable of delivering a baby had just been killed,” she said. “I was terrified to tell Jared. I tried not to think about it but... I worried he’d force me to return to land without him. I was determined to make it work.” She hung her head then. “I’ll never know what caused it. It might’ve been illness, it might’ve been natural, it might’ve been the weeks of starvation, it might’ve been the battles.”
Neyva dropped both hands to her abdomen, breathing in shakily. The flutter in her chest, the subtle prickle at her eyes, gave her an inkling of how she might feel if it weren’t true—disappointment.
With a breath of her own, a subtle touch of a smile on her lips, Kara seemed less troubled. “The second time... I thought it had to be a mistake. It had been too soon—the physician said it was possible but unlikely,” she said. The thought of that time seemed to give her a multitude of mixed feelings. Dragging herself out of the thought of her first loss, she’d been left baffled, uneasy and in utter disbelief at the chance of a second. Her potential for joy had been masked by fear—fear of a second loss, fear of her ability to be a mother, fear of so much more. “Jared had been gone for some time by the time we were sure. It was looking less and less likely that he’d return and all that fear I’d had the first time came back—I’d have to face it alone.”
A lump of dread filled the back of her throat, stifling her breathing.
Kara looked her way again, turning almost in her entirety to face her. “But I was wrong,” she said. “They weren’t a family by blood, and they weren’t the family I’d started—they were a family who sought to help me.”
Neyva swallowed and pursed her lips together, squeezing her eyes shut. Slowly, Kara’s fingers enveloped hers, brushing her thumbs over the back of her hand. “Take it from me,” she said, “you think you’re alone, but you won’t be.”
Neyva bit down hard into her bottom lip, nodding. She squeezed her hand back, then withdrew it. “No sense worrying about this now,” she said, striking the tears from her cheeks, forcing a smile.
Tucking loose strands of dark hair behind her ear, she took a seat on the wooden bench beneath the dining hall window. The door beside them opened, shedding some light across the balcony. With the sight of her a cause for concern, Malia took a seat beside her.
Dread filled the pit of Neyva’s stomach. “Is it done?” she asked.
Malia pursed her lips together, shaking her head. “Your father offered to go ahead with a guard,” she said. “He’ll bring word when it’s done.”
Quietly, Kara moved to slip away, only for Neyva to reach out suddenly and catch her hand. “Stay,” she said. “Please.”
She wasn’t sure what it was. She’d neve
r felt it before, an urge as strong as this—an urge for a mother. She’d known the woman who birthed her as a child—she’d made it clear Neyva had been an encumbrance. The Queen had adopted her wholeheartedly, loved her like one would expect a mother to, and, though she had never wanted her in such a way, she looked to Kara now as the woman she needed by her side.
Without another word, Kara lowered herself beside her and the three of them sat, waiting. The cold sank into Neyva’s bones. The chill in the air nipped at her skin and the cool night air filled her lungs. She thought she would run from every memory of him. She thought she wouldn’t be able to bare the joy that came from the thought of him.
And, yet, here she was.
“We were here when he kissed me for the first time,” she said.
Malia glanced over, a grin threatening to break her morbid expression, “The night we confronted the nobles?” she asked.
Neyva broke out into a wide smile and that was reply enough.
“Nothing quite like a little scheming to bring a couple together,” Kara said.
She smiled a little wider at the thought. There had been some scheming of her own. “Circumstances meant I could speak to him without having him flee,” she said. “He did everything his father ever wanted. The moment Riffin became King, the moment he was called to do his duty, he became determined not to let anything tear him away from it—not even love.”
“And that changed here?” Malia asked.
Fighting the prickling of her eyes, she fought the sadness. There was no suppressing her feeble smile, certainly not when the memory filled her with such a great sense of joy. Though the moment had been filled with tension, his reply to the pressure she applied, begging him to see the world through her eyes, if only for a second, warmed her to the core. How could she ever give any thought to the cold that surrounded her when she had a memory like that?
“I asked him to pretend… Pretend we lived in another world, pretend we were other people, with other lives,” she said, fighting the crack in her tone. “I asked him what he’d do if everything was different.”
“That was when he kissed you?”
Neyva nodded. She still remembered how it made her feel. He’d closed the space between them with such abruptness her breath had caught in the back of her throat, part fearful he would strike her like Lord Girgani had. His hand against the nape of her neck, the feeling of his fingers in her hair, quickly eased her mind. The touch of his lips, smoother than flower petals, hard with passion—that ridded her of all fear, replacing it with glee and desire. The flutter in her chest had been unmistakable, stirring hope within her that they could make their marriage work as something far more than just a duty to their King.
“Out here, I feel like I can pretend anything is possible,” she said. “I can pretend there’s more to our life together.”
Neither one of them said a word to convince her otherwise. She knew she sounded crazy, even to her own ears, and she knew that returning inside would force her to confront the dark reality of her life. There, she wouldn’t be able to pretend, not even for a second.
The guards would look to her with pity—one marriage annulled, the other made her a widow. The servants would look much the same, though those that knew their love may even be moved to look at her with sadness and uncontrollable sympathy.
Her chambers would seem emptier without him—she’d avoided them for as long as she could. She’d grown used to the creases on the couch on which he’d slept for the first part of their marriage, blankets draped over the arm. It would be lonelier. Unmaking herself at night, glancing his way through her reflection in the mirror, she’d find no one.
The wedding gifts, be them jewellery or trinkets, meant to celebrate and congratulate them on their union, would remind her of him.
The door to the balcony opened. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the word that would come. A guard stepped out and turned to face them but she couldn’t bear to look at him. She couldn’t stand to see the pity.
Malia squeezed her hand and rose to her feet to meet him, stepping aside to have a quiet word.
Neyva expected it to be briefer than that. She hadn’t expected him to linger.
“Is it done?” she asked, swallowing the fear, knowing she couldn’t put off the inevitable. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look at them, even as she addressed them. She stared out into the distance at first and, when they hesitated, turned her attention to them with a growing frustration behind the glassiness of her eyes.
Malia looked to the guard for a second, hesitating to pass on his message. “Thane’s room was empty,” she said.
Chapter 19
HANDS CLENCHING INTO FISTS around the folds of her dress, Neyva rose to her feet and searched their expression for the meaning behind their words. “What are you talking about?” she asked. All sadness left her, puzzled by them, wiping the tears from her eyes with the tips of her fingers.
Malia looked to the guard again, beckoning him to repeat what he had told her. “We opened the chambers as instructed,” he said. “We thought...”
Neyva nodded, blinking erratically, “You thought you would find a body, yes, I know,” she said. “And you didn’t?”
He bowed his head with a silent apology, shifting where he stood beneath the intensity of their stares. “No,” he replied. “There was no one there.”
Kara stood beside Neyva, equally confused, with questions of her own on the tip of her tongue. “Was he seen leaving?” she asked.
“No,” he replied. “Word has been sent to the men at the Capital gate.”
Neyva shook her head furiously, folding her arms over her chest. “This can’t be,” she said. “Thane might’ve locked us out of his chambers to spare us the sight of him but he’s not a cat—he doesn’t just flee in the middle of the night at the prospect of his death.”
“You think he’s still here?” Malia asked.
Neyva shrugged a shoulder, “Surely a guard would’ve brought word if they saw a dying man attempt to leave the Capital,” she said.
“With all due respect, Lady Darner,” the guard started, “he grew up here and is beyond well-versed in the rotation of the guards, as well as the Capital’s ins and outs.”
She pursed her lips together, shaking her head. “He resigned himself to a death,” she said. “If he’s up, he has a reason. We have to find him.”
Taking a deep breath, relieving herself of the shock, burying all feeling, Malia took command. “Summon all the guards, have them search each and every corner of the Capital grounds. If Thane is still here, we’ll find him.”
The guard took the instruction and returned inside.
Neyva’s mind started racing. If he was up, where would he be? What could’ve forced him to do this? Was it him? Was it delusion? Was he in the right state of mind? She hadn’t a clue.
“Where would he go?” Kara asked, softly.
Neyva shrugged a shoulder, lips parted as a reply lingered on the tip of her tongue. “I suppose that would depend on what it was he hoped to accomplish,” she said.
“A duty?” Malia whispered, trying.
It wasn’t farfetched when everything in Thane’s life came down to that. Why not his death?
“Or love,” Kara proposed, quieter still.
Her heart truly raced then, accelerating, rising in her throat. Clasping her skirt in her hand, she rushed inside.
The throne room wasn’t far. If he thought something was amiss, if he needed to speak with anyone of authority, he would go there first. Slipping along the smooth tile, propelling her quick-paced walk, she threw open the throne room doors. Empty.
Kara and Malia came to an abrupt stop behind her, sensing her immediate disappointment.
“Lady Darner,” a guard called, rushing down the corridor.
Having caught her attention, she met him half way. “Lady Darner, your chambers have been broken into,” he said.
Neyva recoiled. “Thane?” she asked.
He shrugged a shoulder, shaking his head, entirely uncertain. “It cannot be said,” he replied.
“Was anything taken?” she asked.
“Very difficult to tell,” he said.
No guard would be able to determine what the inside of her chambers looked like, nor would they ever recognise anything out of place. The only way to find out would be to go there herself.
“Perhaps it was Thane,” Kara quipped.
Light on their feet, they rushed to Neyva’s chambers. There was barely a moment to consider entering when a servant rounded a corner, wide-eyed and white like the palace linens. The guard looked most alarmed by her expression, looking her up and down, wondering if she’d been harmed. She blinked at the sight of them before her. Too stunned by what she had seen, she seemed to have forgotten all sense of courtesy. “I think I saw a ghost,” she said.
A preposterous idea if ever there was one, Neyva thought. That said, if those they thought dead kept making a habit of reviving themselves, then she couldn’t quite blame her.
Thane was gone. It didn’t matter if something had been taken from her chambers or not. It wasn’t worth looking when he wasn’t there.
There were few places she would imagine him going. An office he worked in from time to time, or his chambers. She sent the guard to the former, and rushed towards his chambers herself.
With the door wide open, his chambers released an eery golden glow into the corridor. The blaze in the fireplace verged on uncontained.
It might’ve worried her, had she not caught sight of Thane standing, hunched over his table. Her heart catching in her throat, a touch of relief at the sight of him alive, she rushed towards him and threw her arms around his waist. “What are you doing?” she asked.
His features remained slick with sweat, his eyes glassy and vision distant. She almost didn’t blame the servant for mistaking him for a ghost; his complexion had been enough to rival her own.
