Nik slowed his steps as he picked up on the sound of their voices—not exactly low and discreet for hunting. He spotted the flicker of movement, and he couldn’t stop himself when he halted and kept cover behind a thick trunk.
Observing them felt wrong, but he didn’t care in that moment. Not when his anger completely diffused into something that wrenched in his chest instead. A sharp pain, then a hollow, tunneling void.
The princess leaned against the trunk of a tree, and the prince stood over her, a hand braced by her head. Tauria chuckled at something Tarly said, and the brightness on her face, caused by him, twisted the phantom dagger that pierced Nik’s chest at the sight. Yet he couldn’t look away, even though a voice begged him to turn around, to relieve his sinking pain and let her have this moment of happiness she deserved. That he couldn’t give to her.
Tarly’s other hand lifted to her waist, and even from this distance, Nik imagined the faint blush that would bloom on Tauria’s cheeks at the contact. He was about to tear his eyes from them, overcome with guilt for imposing on a mildly intimate moment. He shouldn’t have come.
But as he twisted to leave, his slumped posture straightened when Tauria moved. Not closer to the prince, but in an attempt to maneuver out of his cage. She politely removed his hand from her waist and made to step around him. Tarly turned as she did, his hand catching her wrist instead.
When Tauria attempted to gently pull free and his hold didn’t release, a white rage flashed across Nik’s vision.
He didn’t care for his furious footsteps then, and Tauria startled with a faint gasp as he crossed the distance toward them faster than intended. Nik’s face was livid, and Tarly stared with surprise in his raised brow, his fingers still curled around Tauria’s wrist.
“I advise you to remove your hand as she wishes,” Nik said, his tone as cold as the air that clouded his breath as he spoke.
Both princes stared off with dangerous tension. Tarly’s fingers loosened from Tauria slowly, and as he tuned to face Nik fully, the challenge for dominance almost palpable. Neither looked close to backing down.
Before either prince could break, in violence or words, Tauria’s stunned voice cut through the thick air. “What are you doing here, Nik?”
His nostrils flared at the bitter accusation in her tone—she was irritated at his intrusion—when it was clear she hadn’t been enjoying the alone time with Tarly. His eyes didn’t leave the Olmstone prince.
“Reylan advised it would be safer to travel in groups of three.” He passed the blame on to the general so he wouldn’t seem like the whelp he was for being there.
Tarly smirked, his mockery subconsciously flexing Nik’s fingers as he restrained himself from violence. “Did he now?” he drawled, folding his arms.
The casual gesture was far more than that—it was a subtle way to try to level with Nik. Tarly was a few inches shorter and slightly less built than he. The movement squared his shoulders, expended his chest, and firmed his posture.
Nik wasn’t arrogant enough to believe his physical advantages tipped the odds of him winning a fight against Tarly. He didn’t know the prince well enough, but something in the gleam of his eye made him cautious and wary that the seemingly innocent and charming prince could harbor a cunning wild side.
“You are not needed,” Tarly went on dismissively. “Or wanted.”
Nik’s jaw ticked as he ground his teeth. “From what I saw, I think you speak for yourself.”
He didn’t have to advance as Tarly did. Nik’s hand darted for his sword at the threat, but before either prince could draw their blades even a fraction, a powerful gust of wind stirred before pushing between them. Both princes were forced back a step, frost and brown leaves swirling angrily around them, and they had to shield their eyes. When the quick tornado ceased, Tauria’s face was quietly furious as he looked at her.
“That’s enough!” She seethed and flashed her glare at Tarly. Much to his pleasure. “Right now, neither of you is wanted. And I can take care of myself just fine.”
With a final scowl in Nik’s direction, the princess stormed to him, then right past him, near brushing his shoulder.
On instinct, Nik was about to go after her, but he detected a movement from Tarly that had him whirling back with a dark look of warning. He took a moment to assess the Olmstone prince. Cooling, Nik decided to diffuse his protective flare.
“Go to her,” Nik offered, even stepping out of his way.
Tarly’s hard eyes narrowed, gaze shifting between him and where Tauria had marched off to as though it were a trick. Nik’s jaw flexed at his hesitation.
“Just know she isn’t pleasant and content all the time like the front she’s forced this past week. While you have yet to see it, she is not idle, and she is certainly not silent.”
“Am I supposed to be afraid of her?” Tarly sneered.
Nik’s fist twitched tighter. That pretty face wouldn’t be so if he got his way.
“No. Not afraid. But she is a queen, while you are still a prince. Don’t forget that. Even when you one day take your father’s throne, your crown and hers will never weigh the same.”
He saw a flash of something akin to dark rage in Tarly’s eyes. Admittedly, it took Nik by surprise. It was gone before he could think anything of it, replaced by the usual disgruntled reception as he backed down.
Nik turned to go to Tauria, but Tarly called at his back, “And you think your crown will?”
He stilled, irritation and disappointment stirring a chaos of emotion he wanted to unleash on the prince behind him. Because if that was all he had to say, Nik didn’t believe he would ever be worthy of her.
“If it were me who was entertaining the prospect of ruling by her side, I would not be thinking of her crown and mine as different.”
Tarly scoffed. “That is a fool’s romantic idealism.”
“That,” Nik corrected calmly, “is how equal and fair leadership is formed.” He didn’t wait to hear if Tarly would respond to his condescension. Nik took off after Tauria without another thought.
He didn’t know why he said those words. It wasn’t his place nor concern to have an opinion on their match. But at seeing Tarly had yet to glimpse the surface of Tauria’s anger and was already cowering, it made him flare with wariness over the prospect.
Nik loved her anger. Loved when she fought him, and when she defied him. When she didn’t hold back any emotion. He would always weather her storm no matter how destructive it could become.
His steps quickened to catch up with her. Though he had no doubt she could take care of herself, the thought of her wandering the woods alone flared his protectiveness and had him jogging until he spied the brown waves of her hair over her emerald velvet cloak.
When he reached her, Nik’s hand caught her elbow. Tauria whirled to him, yanking her arm free and taking a step away. Nik didn’t have a second to react as in the short minute she’d stormed off it seemed her anger had boiled to rage and targeted him all at once. A raw emotion he so rarely saw on the cool, collected princess.
“Why would you do that?” Despite the wrath that shook her voice, her eyes glittered with pain.
Nik blinked, dumbfounded. When he didn’t respond, he saw the tightening of her jaw and the shift in her stance and knew exactly what she was about to do. Yet he didn’t move to avoid it or defend himself.
Tauria pushed him—not with any physical touch, but with the will of the wind she commanded as her arms cast out in a fluid movement. Nik yielded a step from the force.
“Why did you come to me?” she yelled, sending another blast his way.
Nik braced for it and might have been able to withstand the force of the wind, but she needed this. Needed to see his submission and let out the frustration and anger he’d caused.
“Why care who I’m with?” Another gust; another step back. “Why bother to think of me at all when all you do is push me away!”
She was right. And this was her way of pushing back.
/>
Why? Why? Why?
Tauria moved as weightlessly as the wind she conjured, a dance so elegant and free. Many times, he had watched her perform the various sequences of moves that made her a master of her Windbreaker ability—both with her bare hands and with a staff in her clutch—and turned her into a whole new force to be reckoned with. Tauria homed in like a warrior in battle with the grace of a dancer on stage. A storm against her own silent song.
Often, he would watch her when she didn’t know he was there, just to be sure she didn’t lose herself when indignation and grief overcame her. Nik had been there—would always be there—to pick up the pieces when she broke, help her forget the cracks that would never be filled for one who had lost so much, and remind her every damn time that she was a warrior who had defied the odds to be here.
Nik had to shield his eyes from the debris and slashes of air forcing him back and back. He accepted every blow, deserving of it, and kept retreating until his back met the harsh bark of a trunk. Tauria didn’t relent. Nik tensed to absorb each impact that barely winded him. She was powerful, and she was holding back the strength of her blasts significantly. She didn’t want to harm him. This…it was a barreling of so much pent-up frustration. A release of indignation. Against him. So, he took everything she could throw at him until she began to tire. He knew the moment her wind weakened that her anger was subsiding to something far more gut-wrenching.
Defeat.
Before her next attack, Nik reached out, an arm hooking around her waist while his other hand cupped her nape as he twisted with her. Nik held her between his body and the tree while she thrashed. Only for a few seconds, until he attempted to reach her from within—tried projecting a sense of calm and an apology that seemed to be heard as she stilled against him. He’d done it before, when heartbreak and helplessness threatened to consume her around the anniversary of her parents’ death each year. It calmed her then as it did now. Some invisible, unspoken language they had formed between them.
He couldn’t be sure how many seconds or minutes or hours passed as he simply held her while she curled into his chest. Both of them breathed hard, allowing their pulses to steady and giving them time to collect their thoughts before they could speak. Nik idly stroked her hair, not even aware of it as he tuned in to her quickened heartbeat against the faint murmurs of the winter woodland. He didn’t know what to say to the questions she’d thrown at him. Nothing sounded justifiable. He should have let her be.
“I’m sorry.” It was a pathetic response, but it was all he could find in him.
Tauria’s answering voice was weak and muffled. “I know.”
His arms loosened as she began to pull back, but he didn’t let go, and she didn’t try to step away. Her brown eyes glittered with a pain he’d seen before—one he felt so deep it was a wound that would never be healed. Because it was a pain he had only ever seen caused by himself.
Nik’s hand raised, unable to stop himself as he took her cheek in his palm. Her eyes closed briefly as he did, and she leaned into his touch. His heart squeezed and squeezed so tightly he thought it might erupt. It didn’t make sense, how life could be so cruel and twisted. He would always put her first—her safety first. And for that reason, despite the hard thrumming of his blood and the flash of his eyes to her lips that made him want to feel them against his so desperately in their closeness…
“Let’s get you back,” he all but whispered, letting his hand drop.
Tauria nodded, but her expression was solemn, and the fall of her disappointment was a weight he would never get used to carrying. Their hands brushed, and he couldn’t help it when his palm slid into hers, their fingers intertwining so naturally it didn’t feel wrong to want to have this moment. This one small piece of closeness that held no expectation.
Both of them stared down at their joined hands, and he planned to keep a hold of her for as long as he could before they inevitably found company when they reached the castle grounds. But he didn’t even get that short amount of time he desperately craved.
Branches snapping had Tauria ripping her hand from his, which Nik felt in his chest as though she had clutched and torn his heart instead. He detected exactly who the invading force was by the stiffening of rage that curved his spine. As he turned, the Olmstone prince came into view, stopping a few paces away.
“Wind tantrums over for now?” he remarked in poor condescending humor.
Nik took half a step but didn’t get to strike the bastard when a hand curled around his bicep.
“Nik, don’t,” Tauria warned.
His eyes snapped back to her, and she flinched. Actually flinched. Immediately, his wrath cooled completely at the flash of fear in her eyes. Fear…of him.
Her face steeled quickly as she straightened and stepped away from him. In contrast, Nik was close to buckling where he stood, unable to get that split second of emotion from his mind.
Tarly’s irritating voice rang through him once more. “I don’t know what your problem is, Nik, but you need to cool down.”
It was so gods-damned far from what he needed to hear in that moment. Nik targeted his gaze of cold anger at the prince and took the few steps slowly to close the distance, almost going to pass him.
But Nik halted at his shoulder, and his voice dropped low.
“I may not be able to hurt you here, but when you sleep…well, who will know? I can find out everything that makes you weak—every fear, every transgression—without you ever knowing I was there. I can bring forth your most tormenting thoughts, nightmares so vivid you’ll awake in your own piss.”
To his satisfaction, Tarly’s throat bobbed, and Nik caught the scent of fear he tried to suppress. He was about to walk away and leave them, as he should have from the start. He’d only made everything worse by coming. Between the two of them, but worst of all, between himself and Tauria.
Yet he couldn’t fight his need to turn back to her. Their gazes locked, and he thought he saw the flicker of sympathy cross her glittering eyes.
“I would never hurt you.”
As he took his first steps away, three answering words chanted in his mind, but he kept walking. His feet guided his numb body, which had nothing to do with the winter chill. Nik picked up pace until he was certain he was so far away from them it would be impossible for him to still hear her voice. But those words echoed loud and clear. Over and over. He couldn’t be sure if they were ever spoken out loud, but it was her voice. Her quiet, broken voice. Three words he would always carry the burden of. Because spoken or silent, they were true all the same.
“You already have.”
Chapter 25
Faythe
The spymaster and the wolf king walked in silence for a long stretch. Faythe’s anxiety built as she cast frequent glances back, trying to keep a mental calculation of how many steps away from the hunting party they’d ventured, until she considered them too deep into the woods for it to matter. Her senses were balanced on a sharp edge, and it shook her to think it had nothing to do with the wildlife they were trying to be stealthy for.
Finally, Varlas halted, motioning for her to do the same while he slowly dropped to a crouch behind a tall bush. Faythe saw it then: a striking stag with powerful antlers. For a quick second, her breath caught as she envisioned the eerily similar mythical beast of the Eternal Woods. Except it was clear the stag ahead was perfectly mortal and real.
“This one is yours,” the king barely whispered. He held out a longbow and an iron-tipped arrow.
Faythe’s heart began to hammer in her chest, eyes widening with the knowledge he was passing the kill to her. Varlas looked to her expectantly, and she had no choice but to take his offering.
It wasn’t the embarrassment of missing she was afraid of this time. As she looked to the beast, peacefully unaware of the predators who lay in the shadows as it fed on the frost-tipped grass, she didn’t want to be the one to take its life. The king watched her closely, and she swore she saw a wicked gleam flash q
uickly in his eye as she nocked the arrow into place. She didn’t look at him again, raising her arm to aim while the other strained to pull back the string that would launch the fatal dart. Her arms trembled under the strength it took to hold poise. The beast was large enough that she was confident she could hit it without accuracy.
Just as she prepared herself to let the arrow fly, the stag twisted its head to look directly at her. If it knew how close death was, it made no move to save itself.
In its eyes, she saw the silver-antlered stag of the Eternal Woods—the one that helped her gain the yucolites and guided her, the guardian of the Temple of Light.
She couldn’t do it.
In a split-second decision, she tilted her aim upward and let the arrow sing free. It soared over the top of the stag, alerting it to the danger. It leaped back in fright but didn’t immediately sprint to safety. It held her stare for one second longer, as if in silent thanks, before scurrying off in a delayed reaction.
Faythe shot to her feet, walking a few paces into the flat clearing to stare after it in awe. When it was long out of sight, she heard Varlas come out of hiding to stand a few paces behind her.
“Just as I thought. Spineless, cowardly human.”
The king’s switch of tone shot a spear of ice through her. Faythe didn’t expect it, but she wasn’t surprised either. She’d wanted to hold onto the notion he was a ruler to be loved and respected as he’d led her to believe over the week, yet a part of her had always held reserves about him as much as she tried to ignore it. She turned to him slowly. Gone was his mask of warmth and kindness, replaced by the cruel loathing that simmered beneath the surface.
“Your talents are impressive, I’ll admit, but Orlon is a fool to trust you in his court.”
A Queen Comes to Power: An Heir Comes to Rise Book 2 Page 21
