by M. Dalto
After seeing the last group ride away, she picked up her skirts and returned to the interior of the palace, looking forward to soaking in a long bath and reading a mindless book before she allowed herself to sleep.
However, there was one final task she needed to attend to.
And it was going to be on her terms.
She had been avoiding Reylor since the night in the library, and rightfully so. There were many, many things she needed to figure out for herself, and she wasn’t going to be able to sort through them properly with the Lord Steward around. She caught glimpses of him here and there, but he was respectful enough to give her space, as if he knew she needed to work things out on her own.
Perhaps he had noticed her missing wedding ring.
Just as Jamison had.
The captain of the guard had pulled her aside after a meeting the day prior, once the other lords and guards had disbursed.
“Is everything alright, Alex?” he had asked. It was always something; he could never just let her be.
“Everything is fine, Jamison,” she assured him.
He had glanced to her ring finger at that point and raised one brow in question.
Alex’s eyes drifted to her naked finger as well and she clenched her fist as she squared her shoulders and looked to the Captain. “Is there something you want to say, Jamison?”
He peered at her but stepped back. “I just wanted to be sure there’s not a thief loose in the palace, stealing priceless jewels off of the fingers of our Queen Empress.”
“There is no thief, Jamison,” she assured him as she attempted to step around him, but he blocked her path.
“Did you lose it? I can have my men search...”
“No, I did not lose it.” The look she gave him was warning enough, but he pressed on.
“Why did you take it off?”
“Why did you take off yours?” Alex snapped, noticing his finger was bare as well.
He swallowed, and almost looked ashamed. “I had to sell it.”
“Why?” Alex was taken aback by his answer.
“After you and Treyan disappeared things were...rough...here for a while. I had to send my son away to Mallia’s family for his own safety, and without a palace to protect, I needed other ways to find money.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. My letters have gone unanswered.”
“And Cairn?”
“It was hard, supporting the two of us, but at least Cairn was able to somewhat care for himself. He is stubborn, insisting that he’s going to repay me regardless of how much I tell him it’s not needed.”
“I’m...I’m sorry,” she said genuinely.
Jamison shook his head. “Mallia would have understood. She would have done the same.”
“Of course.” Alex nodded in agreement, remembering her friend, the deceased Mistress, and suddenly her chest felt very tight. “I’m sorry,” she said again, trying to comfort him.
“Why did you take it off?” Jamison repeated, softer this time.
Her countenance darkened as she held his gaze. “It’s none of your concern, Captain.”
“I believe it is, Empress. Especially if the sanctity of the Empire is to be compromised...”
“What, do you think, is going to compromise anything?”
He looked at her with a knowing glower that made her want to slap him.
“What I do—”
“—affects every soul in this Empire,” he growled. “Please do not make a mistake that could ruin everything we have rebuilt here.”
“Are you accusing me of treason?”
“Hardly,” Jamison scoffed, “but I’ve been there, Alex. I know what it’s like—how it feels—and how your grief can eat you alive from the inside out.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” she hissed, grateful it was only the two of them in that room, which was suddenly feeling very small and very stuffy. Alex took a deep breath.
She needed air.
“I do know you, Alex—I might be one of the only people left in this palace right now who actually understands. I know that feeling of loss...”
“Enough,” she pleaded.
“I know the hole grief can leave,” Jamison continued, his gaze blazing into hers. “I know the desperation to fill it. The empty hole and you don’t care who it is until it may be too late.”
“Stay out of my personal business, Captain,” she warned, her fists clenched at her sides. “Whatever it is you think you know, you can shove up your ass.” She turned on her heel to stalk away but stopped as his words rung through her head.
“He’s a murderer, a torturer—a thief.” There was almost a desperate plea resounding in his voice. “What would Treyan think?”
With her hand on the threshold to keep her from falling on wobbling knees, and barely a glance behind her, she reminded him, “Treyan is dead. He’s not coming back.”
Alex hadn’t crossed paths with Jamison since.
His words rang through her once again, however, as she made her way towards the Council’s chambers.
What would Treyan think?
Treyan had asked her to forgive his brother because he felt there was more to what had happened to him—to what he had done—than any of them realized. In the end, as they had their confrontation with Razen in the Borderlands, he was proven right. Reylor had been a pawn in a larger game, and Alex the unfortunate victim. No, it did not validate what he had done for any reason, but time could allowed both of them to heal, and move on.
And forgive.
Which was why she stood at that doorway, watching the Lord Steward as he worked over piles of papers and the few remaining books in the Council’s collection.
He must have been deep in his studies for he did not hear her approach as he usually would. He always seemed to be a step ahead when it came to her.
“Reylor,” she said quietly so as not to startle him.
It was only then he looked up from his writing, his eyes a deeper red today—perhaps because of the way the light played on them from a nearby sconce in the wall. His hair was tied behind his head, but a few strands had escaped, falling into his face, and for a moment Alex saw the face of his twin, who had given her that same look before, many times.
She quickly shook the image away.
“Have the lords finally taken it upon themselves to leave?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair. Reylor hadn’t cared for the extended stay any more than she had. Where she felt their eyes upon her in sympathy, Reylor had only received sneers of judgment.
“Yes, finally,” she informed him as she walked toward the end of the table opposite him. A safe distance away, she told herself. Any closer and who knows where her thoughts would lead her.
He perked a brow in her direction, as though he was trying to read her. “Then to what do I owe this honor, Empress?”
She ignored the use of the formal title, but let loose a breath, her fingers playing with the wooden edge of the table and her eyes finding it more interesting than the Lord Steward sitting before her.
“I made you a promise, and I’m following through.” She looked up to meet his gaze. “Ask me.”
He looked at her, silent.
“Ask me, Reylor,” she insisted.
He nodded slowly, understanding. “Will you have dinner with me?”
“No.”
He opened his mouth and started to protest, but she cut him off.
“I want you to have dinner with me.”
That shut him up.
“Tomorrow night. When the suns have set.”
He swallowed but nodded again. “Alright.”
She merely inclined her head in response and didn’t say another word other than the whispered ‘fuck’ that escaped her lips as she left the Lord Steward to his paperwork.
Chapter Seven
The look on the kitchen servant’s face when Alex informed her she would be dining with the Lord Steward that evening told a thousand storie
s. She had been prone to eating alone in her own quarters more often than not, if she ate at all, but to inform the kitchen that she and Reylor were to have a meal together in the dining room seemed to make the cook jump out of his skin.
Let them assume, let them talk, let them whisper and judge.
Alex was done with it all.
She was tired of being alone.
Treyan’s death and the loss of their unborn child had sent her into a downward spiral of self-loathing and isolation. Fear for the safety of her children pulled her in the direction needed to distance herself to protect them. No one—save the Lord Steward—even deemed her approachable, and when she did emerge and attempt to be a member of society once again, she was greeted with sympathy and pity.
She was done with it all.
That’s what she told herself as she dressed for dinner.
She was alone—Treyan was dead, Sarayna was still searching the Otherrealm for her Emperor, Lexan was lost to the Borderlands, and Crystal...she didn’t want to think of her former best friend and what the Councillor had in store for her. They weren’t able to save her, but Alex remembered from their last encounter, Crystal didn’t want to be saved. She had been seduced by the same dark power and glory that had once seduced Reylor, and she wasn’t sure there was any coming back from that.
No. That wasn’t entirely true, she reminded herself.
Reylor had.
And that was why she was finally having dinner with him.
She dressed casually, choosing a simple blue velvet dress that hugged her curves before it flowed to the floor over the silver slippers she wore underneath. No jewelry other than the combs that swept her hair up and out of her face before allowing the auburn curls to flow freely down her back. The makeup she wore was natural in appearance—shadow on her eyes, a light color to her lips, but she wanted to keep it simple.
Even when there was nothing simple about having dinner with Reylor.
She gave very specific instructions to the kitchen staff regarding the night’s dinner. The food was to be laid out by dusk, and they were not to be disturbed. Alex could smell the enticing scents of the evening’s meal as she approached the dining hall, so she knew the staff had managed at least one of those requests.
As she entered, and saw only Reylor standing in the room, she was grateful they had respected the second request as well.
Shutting the door behind her, she took in the sight of the Lord Steward as he stood in front of the flaming hearth, a glass of wine already in his hand. Like her, he was dressed casually, yet finely—a red woolen tunic embroidered with black thread over black leather pants and boots to his knees, his hair clean and tied at his nape, a silver hoop in his ear that she hadn’t seen him wear for some time.
The wood from the closed dining room door was cool against her back, even through the velvet, and she found her throat very dry, wishing she had her own glass of wine. Or ten.
He turned to her where he stood as if he could hear her heart pounding in her chest, but grinned and raised his glass to her as though in a toast. “Welcome, Empress.”
She found her lips turning up in response and inclined her head slightly. “Good evening, Lord Steward,” she responded as she pushed off the door, walking over to where the wine bottle and glass waited for her. She felt his eyes on her as she poured a larger-than-normal glass of wine before turning around to face him, leaning against the table.
She took a sip from her glass, watching him over the rim before she spoke again. “Thank you for agreeing to join me this evening.” As if this had been her idea from the beginning.
He chuckled, taking another sip from his own glass. “The pleasure is mine,” he replied, taking a step towards her. “You look stunning.”
Alex’s cheeks immediately flushed, and that she couldn’t blame on the wine, not yet. “You’ve cleaned up quite nicely yourself.”
He huffed in amusement and they stood for a moment in silence—not awkwardly, but as though they were assessing one another, planning how to proceed, considering options and their possible outcomes.
It was Reylor who broke first. “Will we actually eat tonight, or shall we just stand here, staring at each other instead? Not that I mind...”
Alex cleared her throat and turned from him, taking her seat at the head of the table. He took the seat on her left, and they began their meal.
The food was savory, warm and comforting. The wine flowed freely—Alex may have drank more than necessary for the meal, but Reylor matched her glass for glass as they refilled their goblets together.
They ate quietly, the clinking of their forks against the plates resounding off the walls, the crackling of the fire in the hearth filling in the silence until their meal was finished. After filling their wine glasses again, Reylor brought his elbows to the table, cradling his glass in his hand.
“We should have heard back from Sarayna by now,” he confided quietly.
Alex, having also finished her meal, coughed while she attempted to swallow a sip of wine. “Why do you say that?”
“Time works differently between here and the Otherrealm, yes, but...she went unprepared. She didn’t have a focus—a goal...not like when Treyan left to retrieve you.” He dared a look at the mention of his brother’s name. “I fear we may have damned her to an infinite loop of failure.”
“Your mother would never allow that to happen,” Alex countered, leaning up on her forearms. “Saratanya will help her, and she had the Key. She’ll return when she’s ready.”
Reylor cocked his head to the side at her confidence. “Why the change? A few weeks ago it was on the list of items you worried about on a daily basis.”
Alex shrugged her slender shoulders, taking another sip of her wine. “I suppose there are far more important things to concern myself with for the time being.”
“Such as?” Reylor challenged, leaning in closer.
She waved a hand dismissively in his direction, knowing his implication. “The Borderlands, for one.”
“Hmm,” he agreed, sipping from his glass as he leaned back in his chair, angling himself to face her. “They’ve been quiet.”
“Almost too quiet.”
“All the more reason why we need Sarayna to return with her Emperor, to begin setting things straight.”
“Do you truly believe that’s what we need in order to advance?”
“It’s what the Empire needs,” Reylor said with a nod. “I’ll allow Jamison one thing—they need hope. The Crown Princess and the King Emperor will instill that in the people after everything that’s happened.”
Alex looked at him for a moment. After everything that happened—the unfortunate events involving the son they rarely spoke of. How he came to be within the Borderlands in the first place—how he came to exist in the first place.
She finished her glass of wine in two gulps.
Unspoken no longer.
“We need to make a decision about Lexan.”
“Alex...”
“Without a formal declaration of his betrayal, he could march on us this very moment and stake his claim to the throne.”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?” Alex pressed. “We don’t know what the Councillor—Razen—has drilled into his mind. Look at what he did to you.”
Darkness crossed Reylor’s face at the mention of the former Councillor. “Razen has what he wants until he realizes he wants more, and the longer he waits within the Borderlands, the more susceptible he’ll become.”
“To what?”
“The same darkness that lured me in will grab hold of him.”
Alex stilled. Remembering the last time she saw Razen, and the threats he had made to both her and Sarayna, she didn’t need to ask Reylor for further explanation.
He took advantage of her silence to continue. “You still don’t know what happened.”
She shook her head. “Don’t.”
“Alex, you can’t continue like this. We can’t. Please—all
ow me that much.”
“To continue to make excuses?”
“To explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain—”
“There is, you need to understand—”
“No I don’t, there is no understanding—”
“I couldn’t do it.”
She paused.
“There was a spell…that should have worked. It would have worked. I…couldn’t do it.”
Alex pursed her lips.
Reylor shook his head, focused on the table before him. “I wanted to—gods, I wanted nothing more—but I couldn’t. Not like that, but the magic had already been cast, I just couldn’t finish the spell. Instead of admitting my failure, I needed you to fear it had worked, that what I had planned was coming to fruition, even if it meant you’d have to hate me for it.”
“You bastard,” she breathed.
He scoffed and looked up at her. “I was already alone, pushing you and Treyan further away was as good for you as it was for me. Your hate meant there’d be no chance at your love, or Treyan’s forgiveness.” He ran a hand over his face, “and then you came back.”
“You expected us to stay away?”
“I had hoped you would have returned with a better plan.”
“Apologies, but last I checked it wasn’t our fault we left in the first place.”
“I said I made a mistake.”
“Many mistakes, Reylor.”
He frowned.
She knew she should have stopped, but the wine kept her going.
“They have the Annals now—because of you. Therefore, they should have every right to the Prophecy that you were so willing to take away from us. More so than we do with Treyan dead and Sara gone!”
“But you are the Queen Empress—”
“Without a Crown Prince, and currently without an heir.”
“So change that, Alex!” He slammed his wine glass on the table so hard she was surprised it didn’t shatter in his hand.
