The Affiliate

by K. A. Linde

  Duty.

  She plucked the word out of thin air. She was duty-bound to her Class, and she would do as he instructed.

  Slowly, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, Cyrene sank into a curtsy, nearly brushing her head on the stone floor. She didn’t peek up. She didn’t stagger or sway.

  She just stayed there and whispered, “As you wish, My King.”

  Cyrene stood, her head full of reluctance, her body aching from the heartbreak. Third Class. She was to be reassigned to the Third Class. Never once had she ever dreamed it possible.

  She brushed at the tears pooling in her eyes. Tears would do her no good. She had pushed too far and broken the thing she had wanted most.

  She was no longer an Affiliate.

  With a start, she realized that she wasn’t in the castle but in a master bedroom that resembled the one in the house she had grown up in. It had the same sturdy stone walls and wide open room. But it couldn’t be her parents’ house.

  “Darling!” someone called from outside the room.

  Cyrene’s heart fluttered at the voice. But who is it? No one calls me darling.

  Yet her stomach felt as if she had butterflies in it. She couldn’t keep from biting her lip, and a smile broke out on her face.

  He’s home. It was like she had known him all along.

  At the sound of his voice, she burst out of the room and stared all around at the house she had called home for many years. She gripped the railing and flew down the flight of stairs to the foyer.

  A man stood in the entranceway. He was stunning with dark blonde hair and dark eyes, and his smile set fire to her insides. He was strong and sturdy and dependable. He was her cure, her relief, her true solace. Nothing else mattered when she looked upon his face.

  Cyrene rushed to him.

  He picked her up around the middle and swung her in a circle. “Oh, I have missed you,” he breathed into her neck.

  He smelled of timber, ink, and the clove soap her servants used in the wash.

  “I missed you, too,” she murmured.

  He set her back down on her feet and kissed her full on the mouth.

  She could never remember a time without him. She could never remember a moment in her life when it wasn’t him that she wanted most of all. This was her life, a perfect life.

  “My darling”—he softly kissed her once more—“this arrived for you.”

  Cyrene scrunched her brows together. She took the envelope out of his hand and stared at the royal seal. An invitation from the King! Surely, this would be for the royal wedding. She had heard rumors of the engagement of Prince Kael to an Affiliate, but she wasn’t certain when it would be official.

  “I’ll just be in the study,” he said, rubbing his knuckles against her jawline. “Don’t be too long.”

  Cyrene stared up at him, entranced, the letter already forgotten in her grasp. She watched him walk down the hallway and into their study. They would take the next hour to read together before sitting down for supper and attending to houseguests. She smiled dreamily and then tore open the envelope.

  A crisp cream letter fell into her hand, and she read it, her eyebrows rising.

  AFFILIATE CYRENE,

  IF YOU FIND YOURSELF IN COMPANY WHEN READING THIS LETTER, PLEASE PROMPTLY REMOVE YOURSELF BEFORE CONTINUING.

  YOUR LIFE IN THE FIRST CLASS IS AT RISK. THE LIVES OF THE AFFILIATES AND HIGH ORDER FOR THE ENTIRE KINGDOM ARE AT RISK. WE NEED EVERY PERSON TO RETURN TO THEIR RIGHTFUL PLACE—BESIDE THE KING. YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU, AND THOSE WHO ARE LOYAL TO THE THRONE MUST COME BACK TO COURT AT ONCE.

  TELL NO ONE YOUR INTENTIONS TO LEAVE. YOUR ABSOLUTE DISCRETION IS NECESSARY.

  DESTROY THIS LETTER AFTER READING.

  KING EDRIC

  HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS

  A sob escaped her throat, and she choked back on the cry that would be certain to bring her love back into the foyer. She swallowed the pain rising in her chest.

  I can’t leave him! What about the way he looks at me when he comes home and the husky smell of him after work?

  No, the court couldn’t ask that of me. They shouldn’t have!

  She had given them her time and devotion. Now, she was settled down and happy just to be with him. She didn’t deserve this request.

  She read through the royal demand one more time, running her finger across the King’s indented signature. He had pressed too firmly in such haste.

  Cyrene walked to the study and peeked through the open door. Her wonderful man was sitting in a chair, engrossed in an age-old book. Deep in study as he read, his brow crinkled between his eyes.

  A smile touched her face. At least she would always have that—the one last image of him, the man she was madly in love with.

  She retreated from the study, pulled open the front door, and began tearing the paper into a million little pieces.

  She would do what was right. She had to help save the kingdom. If the King needed her, then she would follow. She would always follow.

  She brushed the tear from her eye and hurried out of the house.

  Cyrene took off at a sprint down the pebbled street. Her sturdy boots clattered and squished her toes. She would never have made it this far if she had worn slippers. Her hands clenched her dress, so the ends wouldn’t drag in the dirt. The roads were particularly wet and muddy this time of year, and a wrong footfall or a catch on her dress could result in her twisting an ankle.

  The Royal Guard was close behind her, but she had to get there first.

  A vague memory of a man with brown hair and deep dark eyes needled her, but she pushed it away. She had never known such a man. All she could think about were the beautiful blue-gray eyes she had been staring at all these years.

  Her breathing was raspy, and she was getting a stitch in her side, but she kept running. It wasn’t much farther. She turned the bend and saw the small thatched cottage at the end of the lane. A strained smile touched her lips, and she surged forward.

  Cyrene pushed open the door to the cottage and burst into the stifling hot room. “Where is he?” She stared at the maid sitting in a rocking chair in the corner. “Where is he?”

  The maid cowered. “Right…right here, Your Grace.”

  “What are you waiting for?” she snapped. “Get him ready. Bring him to me. We must be on our way.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Where are we taking him?” The maid jumped up and stuffed belongings into a bag. Then, she hoisted a little baby boy in her arms before swaddling him in blankets.

  “Away. As far away as we can. Quickly!” Cyrene all but shrieked, staring at the door in worry.

  There was a trap door that led into a tunnel. Since they had so little time, they would have to take that.

  Cyrene brushed aside a chair and the dirt covering the trap door, and she wrenched it open. A darkened set of stairs descended under the cottage. She yanked a lantern from above the hearth and handed it to the maid. Cyrene took the little baby out of the maid’s hands, and with a sigh, she gently cradled him in her arms. It had been too long, far too long, since she had seen him. Planting a kiss on his soft forehead, she ushered her maid down the stairs, so the woman could light the way ahead.

  As she took a step down the stairs to follow, the front door slammed inward.

  “Halt! In the name of the King!” a guard called. His plume denoting him as Captain of the Guard waved about.

  Cyrene swallowed and tried to keep her feet moving. She almost made it down the stairs when a guard grasped her by the back of her cloak and ceased her progress.

  “Let me go!” she shrieked.

  “Your Grace, you know I cannot.”

  “You show up here, yet you still call me Your Grace.”

  “I’m doing my duty as Captain of the Guard. Come with me.”

  He marched her back up the stairs. She struggled against him the whole way.

  Queen Kaliana strode into the quarters, and her eyes filled with hatred. Cyrene had never actually expect
ed her to show up.

  “Hand him over,” Kaliana spat.

  “No.”

  “Hand him over!”

  “Never! I’ll never hand him over.”

  “By order of the King,” she growled. “He has denounced you. Everyone has denounced you.”

  “Then, he is all I have left,” Cyrene snarled.

  “The King said he would take pity on you, if you gave the boy up.”

  “You wench! I don’t care about his pity. I will never give him up!”

  “You swore an oath. Do you not remember? You swore fealty to the King, to your lands, to your people. If you keep him…then you will truly have lost everything,” Kaliana said, her eyes hard.

  “What will you do with him?” Cyrene asked, the oath weighing down on her.

  Loyalty, duty, acceptance—the words came to her like a rushing torrent of water, as if she had stepped into a hurricane.

  “That is none of your concern…or mine. He is a Dremylon heir. The last male Dremylon heir. One day, he will become the king, and to him, it will be as if I was always his mother. If you are truly an Affiliate of this realm, then you will give him to me.”

  “I know what I am,” she spat back.

  Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the little baby boy in her arms. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her entire life. She had never expected a baby. She had never even really wanted one, but this boy, this wonderful baby boy, was a part of her now. How can I lose a part of myself?

  “He should not be king,” Cyrene whispered.

  “That is not for you to decide.”

  Cyrene felt the oath as if it were a crushing boulder falling upon her from thousands of feet up. “Just because you could never produce an heir does not mean that you have to steal the only living one!”

  “I’m not stealing. You did your duty, and now, you are to leave. That is the next King of Byern. If you are loyal to anyone but yourself, then you will give him to me, so I can raise him as a proper prince.” Kaliana stepped forward and put out her hands. “Give him to me, Cyrene. You can no longer provide what he needs.”

  Tears ran like a river down her face as Kaliana reached forward, removed the baby from her arms, and walked out of the room.

  Cyrene sank to her knees feeling dead inside.

  Arms gripped Cyrene on all sides as they helped her stand. She heard whispers all around her.

  “She fainted.”

  “She must be unwell.”

  “I heard she is with child.”

  Her thoughts seemed to swirl all around her. Did I actually faint?

  All she could remember was Kaliana taking her baby, her beautiful baby boy. He had his father’s eyes, those same blue-gray eyes. Her throat tightened.

  Then, it slipped away. She didn’t have a child. Why did I think I had one?

  Cyrene shook off the hands still pestering her, and the people scurried away. She straightened and raised her head high to survey her surroundings. She was in the throne room, but it was empty, save for a splatter of Royal Guard, a few flustered courtiers, and the King seated on the throne before her. He was whispering to the Captain of the Guard with huge green and gold plumed feathers in his hat.

  There was no Queen and no Consort. It was just the King.

  “Affiliate, are you quite all right?” the King asked.

  Cyrene sharply looked up at that silky smooth voice. Kael. Her heart began beating in overdrive at the man she had not expected to be seated on the throne, wearing the crown while dressed in Dremylon green and gold. He even had the linked gold chain of the Dremylon line attached to his forest-green crushed-velvet cape.

  As she tried to speak, her mouth went dry, and she found she could not articulate words.

  That jawline, those blue-gray eyes, the almost black dark hair—he was so beautiful but in a way that she always associated with a predator tracking his prey.

  “Do you need some water?” Kael asked with that heart-stopping smile.

  “No. I mean, no, thank you,” she corrected, quickly dipping him a curtsy befitting a king.

  Why did it feel wrong? By the Creator, it feels wrong.

  But she could not pinpoint the exact reason for feeling that way.

  “My lady, surely you need a minute before we continue the proceedings,” Kael said.

  He stood and gestured for the courtiers to be seated. They flitted away like they were used to following his orders on a whim.

  “Come along. I’ll see that you are restored to health before we proceed.”

  Kael stood and strode to Cyrene. He offered her his arm. She walked with him across the ballroom. The Captain of the Guard held the door open for them, and she followed Kael inside a small office.

  “I’ll keep watch. I’ve stationed men at all the exits,” the Captain spoke gruffly.

  Kael nodded, and the Captain shut the door.

  Cyrene had so many questions. They bubbled up out of her from places unknown but dissolved into the wind just as quickly.

  “Water?” Kael walked to a full pitcher on the other side of the small room.

  With a start, she realized that she was in the room she had waited in before her Presenting. It had been draped all over with rustic colors with too many throw pillows tossed about.

  “No. Really, Kael, I’m fine,” she said, using his given name like she always had.

  He set the pitcher down and returned to her side. His hand trailed the length of her face and down her neck before circling her waist and pulling her closer. “You know I look out for your comfort, Cyrene,” he said, her name falling off his lips like a caress.

  She swallowed hard. Goose bumps broke out across her skin, and she tried to push away the pestering feeling of wrongness in the air. Her mind flew to the first thing that might bring her to reality.

  “Edric,” she whispered.

  Kael stiffened and pulled away. He looked hurt, and she immediately wanted to comfort him, but she wouldn’t move.

  “You really must have fainted. Did you hit your head?”

  She remained silent.

  “Edric has been gone for a year, Cyrene. I know it was hard for all of us, but that is why we are reinstating our vows—swearing fealty to the throne, to the Dremylon line, to me.”

  He reached out for her again, bringing his lips down onto hers. Her first instinct was to struggle, but she didn’t.

  What was she doing? And why couldn’t she place why all of this felt wrong?

  Kael broke the kiss with a smile. He was clearly pleased because his face showed only delight and smugness. “I want so much from you, but I’ll start with your Oath of Acceptance,” he said. “We can go from there.”

  Everything seemed to swirl around her at once. Edric was dead, gone. Kael was king, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. She could never swear fealty to him.

  She wrenched backward, out of his embrace, and landed on a divan stacked with pillows. Her hands trembled. He wanted her to be his queen. She knew it with every fiber of her being. How could he think I would do that with Edric having been gone for only a year?

  Kael assessed her with a look of concern. “Are you sure you’ll be all right after that fainting spell?”

  “Yes. Quite,” she said.

  “Then, I should probably bring you back into the throne room to finish the proceedings before the entire court is up in arms.” He offered her his arm.

  Seeing no other option, she begrudgingly took it and followed him back out into the throne room. The courtiers reassembled, and Kael returned to his place on the throne.

  “You have been selected as an Affiliate of the realm. You have been announced to your Receiver and placed in her charge for proper training. Do you accept the circumstances of your Selecting?”

  Cyrene defiantly stared back at Kael. She could not swear her fealty to him. She couldn’t do it. Her loyalty rested with Edric, with Byern, with her people.

  “Cyrene,” he growled softly.

  S
he stared up into those blue-gray eyes and tried to understand what she was supposed to do. How can I trust Kael?

  Acceptance. She had to accept him. She had to accept him as the next in line on the Dremylon throne. She had to give her life to the line as much as to the land, the people, and the King.

  She gritted her teeth and braced herself to answer him even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. “However I am fit and however I am able.”

  “Kael,” Cyrene groaned into the silence.

  Her hands were covering her face, and she was lying facedown on a hard flat surface. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her body shook when she remembered everything she had gone through—Third Class, love, family, fealty.

  She wiped tears from her eyes, unsure of how she looked or if anyone would be around. Her head throbbed, but she slowly pushed off from the marble patio and stood on shaky legs. Chairs had been set up before the small platform, and King Edric, Queen Kaliana, Consort Daufina, and Prince Kael all sat, staring at her with wide eyes.

  With horror, Cyrene remembered that she had spoken Prince Kael’s name when she first regained consciousness. She couldn’t even look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her.

  King Edric stood stiffly and walked to the flat podium where the glass vial still rested. “Affiliate Cyrene, you have completed two of the three tests of loyalty.”

  Two of the three? She almost wept.

  “The final is the easiest to request and the hardest to follow. We have already required deference and dedication. Now, I ask discretion of you. Swear that you will speak of what you have seen in this test to no one.”

  Cyrene placed her palms flat on the marble table before her. She never wanted to speak of what she had seen with anyone, and she never intended to. Perhaps discretion was hardest for some, but it would not be for her.

  “I swear,” she murmured, staring into the King’s blue-gray eyes. She let her gaze travel to the Queen Kaliana, Consort Daufina, and then finally rest on Prince Kael seated behind him, and repeated herself. “I swear.”

  She felt a jolt run through her body, and she clutched onto the table for support. Whatever that was…it was powerful.

  “Congratulations, Affiliate Cyrene,” King Edric said with a smile, not seeming to notice her momentary paralysis. “You have passed the Ring of Gardens. You are now bound by your loyalty to Byern and the Dremylon line.”