Page 57

Chapter 54

IRIS

“You’re next, Prince,” I beamed up at him.

That eyebrow raised again—his preferred method of asking me to clarify instead of using his words, ever the pensive prince.

Dramatic snowman.

“Well, I simply won’t have you buying me everything at this market.” I pointed to the candle he took from the merchant. He’d tapped his foot as I thoroughly tested each one, though I didn’t think he realized which scent I’d ended up with.

Eucalyptus.

He looked down at me, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “Why not?”

“Because there’s no occasion,” I laughed. We wove through the festival, admiring the booths lining cobblestone streets, the scent of sharp cinnamon hanging mixing with the crisp winter air. Decorations for the rapidly approaching Felfrost celebration already adorned several shops, gifts overflowing at each stall.

“You put everything you’ve bought for months on Kacidon’s tab,” his eyes narrowed. “There are seven new novels and four new dresses you ordered at the cabin already, and you’ve been there a week.”

“It’s different.”

The bag containing the candle swung from two of his fingers, his brows creeping toward each other. I couldn’t, for the life of me, discern what I had done to upset him.

“Why do you feel that you must earn good things?”

I swallowed, his words pulling at a deep knot that always lingered in my stomach.

“I only meant you need not drain the vaults purchasing unnecessary gifts for me, Prince,” I smoothed the crease between his brows with my thumb.

“I don’t mean here. You deserve whatever you want. Anything you want.”

I stumbled back a step, caught by a solid hand at my waist. “No one inherently deserves anything in life. No one is entitled to anything.”

“You don’t have to earn kindness, Iris.” He slipped his hand to my back, guiding us to the next vendor. “You give yourself so willingly to others, and you never seem to think it’s enough. What you’ve done for me, for all of us, pales in comparison to a material item. Yet you still feel undeserving of the simplest of compassion when it is offered to you.”

Who did he think he was?

Who do you think he is? A voice rang in my head.

I didn’t meet his accusatory gaze. He was right. Infuriatingly, when it came to me, he was nearly always right. I would always do what my friends and family asked of me, found peace in being someone they could turn to for any situation without judgment. But a line had been crossed somewhere—where I started giving everything I had to them. I gave, and gave, and gave. And suddenly, when I laid down at night, there seemed to be nothing left for me.

He saw it.

And worse, he made sure I was well aware of how he felt about it. He didn’t let me carry on the facade that everything was fine. If he looked too closely, he would see everything, and the thought made me want to flee.

“I—” I stuttered, his stare boring into me, peeling back the surface and finding cracks I didn’t want anyone to see. “I don’t…” My voice faltered.

I don’t feel as if I alone am enough to warrant kindness, love, friendship. I have to earn those things. I have to be valuable to others, or else what do I have to offer?

The words coursed through my mind involuntarily—that ever-constant voice nagging at me. But I couldn’t tell him that. I could scarcely admit it to myself.

“Force of habit, I suppose,” I managed.

“There is no score to settle,” he said, steering us toward another stall. “You, especially, deserve kindness without bounds.”

For how still I stood, a passerby might have mistaken me for one of the ice sculptures scattered across the town square—reeling from the perplexity that was the man standing next to me. A man who closed himself off to everyone, who used coldness and impassivity as a defense, who never asked for what he wanted, and resigned himself to letting others think whatever they wished of him.

Simultaneously, also a man who reconstructed his home so someone that didn’t even live there wouldn’t feel trapped, who talked people through panic attacks and incessantly flirted at all the wrong times.

And who currently contemplated the complexities of existence while purchasing a damned candle.

Aspen Gavalon might very well be one of Altaerra’s great wonders.

“Two hot chocolates, one with cinnamon. Please.”

His order broke through my thoughts as he handed me a steaming mug, garnished with a peppermint stirrer. I took a tentative sip, then cursed under my breath.

Kacidon hot chocolate was immaculate, and if I admitted defeat, I could no longer tease him about his fixation with it.

We sipped our drinks as we strolled along the paved street, close enough that our knuckles brushed every so often.

“I must say, of all the dates I’ve been on, this one has been the least stuffy.” I stole another glance at him, a smile creeping onto my lips. “And possibly the most fun.”

“But in Vaelithe, I thought, well with the Wilds and Zinnia?—”

“The Wilds is a lovely place for a date.” I leaned closer. “And the grass is exceptionally soft on your back.”

He cleared his throat, fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his cup. “How many contenders are in the ring for the champion of dates, then?”

I snickered at the firm line of his jaw, taking another sip. “Did you think you were the only one with an active dating life, Prince?”

His eyes flashed. “My…” he stammered, averting his gaze. “Wouldn’t necessarily be considered a dating life?—”

I choked slightly on my drink, breathing out a laugh. “Noted”

Aspen twisted to study me. “Are you…” Triumph lit his face, before shifting darker. “Iris Virlana, are you jealous?

“Of course not!” I sputtered, holding my mug out to keep from spilling it.

His grin widened. “You are jealous.”

I glared at him. He looked so damn smug.

“That is preposterous.” I brushed past him, trudging into the snow again.

“Preposterous, indeed,” he chuckled from behind the rim of his cup.

Heat crept along my cheeks as the wind brushed hair from my forehead, the breeze smelling of eucalyptus.

The rest of the afternoon passed much the same way—me poring over handcrafted treasures at each booth, Aspen’s eye rolls and sarcastic quips failing to hide the soft smiles beneath them.

“Aspen.” A foreboding baritone rang out behind us.

We both halted, twisting to face an older male dressed in a tailored grey ensemble embellished with lavish embroidery of silver and blue.

I had seen Aspen wear something similar on many occasions—formal attire befitting the king and queen’s regal court.

“Dante.” Aspen’s voice was glacial.

I recognized Deyanira’s father immediately. Aspen had mentioned, albeit briefly, that in addition to serving as the king’s advisor, Dante had once been his childhood tutor and mentor. From what I could glean, the man was extraordinarily strict, holding nobility and perception in the highest regard. He had been relentless in shaping Aspen into what he deemed a proper royal.

I wondered how many of the walls Aspen had built bore Dante’s handiwork.

Aspen’s fingers twitched, and I braced myself for him to pull away—to cross his arms, to tuck his hands into his pockets. Instead, his fingers laced into mine, squeezing gently.

Dante’s gaze flicked to our joined hands, then back up to Aspen, his lips set in a firm line. The two males locked eyes, blue-grey meeting amber. Aspen raised his chin, a muscle in his jaw ticking as if daring Dante to speak.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been such a fool,” Dante scoffed.

Aspen only tightened his grip.

“You know the law, Aspen,” Dante continued, his voice unyielding. “You know what this will project to the citizens of this realm.”

Aspen bristled, his grip on my hand growing even tighter. “My people will not crucify me for caring for someone.”

“They may not crucify you,” Dante said coolly, his civil tone laced with menace, “but they may take it upon themselves to vilify her. Nobody is fond of the other woman.” His eyes gleamed cruelly when they landed on me, his sneer turning my stomach.

“She is nothing of the sort. I am an unwed, unattached man, Dante. Unless you have begun to mistake your own incessant ambitions for reality.”

“For now, Prince. But you and I both know how this ends.” His gaze flicked to me briefly, roving. “And you know that any party who interferes with a royal marriage is held to the highest word of the law in Kacidon.”

“You have truly gone mad, Dante.” Aspen shook his head. “There is no marriage. And if anyone dares to vilify her—for anything—I will remind them of her selflessness, of what she has done for our people.” His voice dropped, heavy with warning. “Including you.”

Dante turned back to Aspen, as if too disgusted by my presence to glare at me any longer. “Her own people may do the same. Could you stomach that?”

I matched his icy stare with one of my own. “My people do not pay mind to hearsay. There is no need to be concerned.”

Peering down his nose at me, he blew out an indignant huff. “Your opinion on the matter is of no importance, girl.” He lifted his head to address Aspen once more. “And the other realms? They do not care about your choices. We have only just begun to mend fences.”

“At least one other realm believes me to be the prince’s betrothed,” I retorted. Aspen squeezed my hand in encouragement. “By choice of the crown.”

Dante shook his head, ignoring me. “Politics is a constant game of who holds the upper hand. Every realm will use this against the already blemished name of your house. You are fools if you believe otherwise. We have only just begun rebuilding this kingdom.”

“And whose doing is that?” The words left my lips before I could stop them.

“I believe you forget that while you serve my father now, I am heir to this realm.” Aspen’s words dripped with ice, the rage in his tone far more lethal than any shout. “And if you ever address her in that manner again, I will remind you precisely how much control that grants me, Dante.”

“The unrest grows each day. And your disrespect for your house only makes matters worse,” Dante snarled. “If we do not turn the realm’s tides in our favor, we will have a rebellion on our hands. You are parading around a woman from Vaelithe ,” he spat the name, “who is not to be your wife. This disregard for all decorum and honor of your duty will destroy any good favor that remains. House Gavalon will crumble.”

“Lovely.” Aspen’s growl reverberated off the stone buildings, frost climbing up the sides. “If we’re lucky, you’ll fall with us.”

Dance blew out a short breath. “You know what is best—for both of you.”

He glanced at our joined hands before raising his chin and stalking off. Before I could even begin to pick apart everything that was said, I was pulled into a narrow alleyway. Aspen twisted, forcing me to step back.

“You asked why I stopped?” he seethed, wild desperation flashing in his eyes. “I told you, Iris. I am a selfish male.”

I cautiously stepped closer. He looked ready to bolt.

His gaze met mine, resignation lining his features. He looked so damn tired. “That is not the first time he has reminded me of the law—of what it means to break a true betrothal as a royal in Kacidon. Of what is at stake.”

I thought back to the day we’d returned to the palace, to the man I’d seen Aspen whispering with at the end of the hall before he’d gone to fetch us dinner. It had been Dante.

“I was selfish, in the woods,” he continued, pacing. His hands waved erratically as if grasping for something unseen. “Because you are good, Iris Virlana. You are good, and I am a shell of a man. There is no universe in which I will ever deserve you. I knew I couldn’t have you. But I wanted you so badly, and I was fucking selfish. I wanted to touch you, to hold you, to explore you. I wanted to know you.”

Aspen’s breath came heavy, ragged.

“You see people, Virlana. You see them when they need someone to really look at them.”

Our breath mingled in the crisp air, puffs of white curling together.

“And I wanted more than anything for you to see me,” he whispered, voice raw. “All of me. And when you did? When you yelled at me for my walls and tore them down, piece by piece? When you—gods, the most glorious, bright, and fierce person I have ever met—looked at me like I was worth seeing? That terrified me. Because for the first time, I felt alive. And I never wanted to let you go.”

I stepped closer.

“But he reminded me then, and he reminded me today that it is not just this realm’s future I am risking. It is yours. Because he may very well get what he wants. If I bring you into this shit? Aurora was killed because of this fucking crown. And the…” He cut himself off. “I wanted so badly to be selfish with you, but I couldn’t. If I hadn’t stopped then, I never would have.”

I stomped up to him, gripping his face firmly, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You stubborn, foolish male. There is nothing to risk. I have told you how I feel. You are building obstacles that don’t even exist. You are brave, and kind, and caring, and you, Aspen Gavalon, make me believe in more. You deserve everything.”

He shook his head, pulling my hands down. “I see you, Iris. You hide it, but I’ve seen glimpses. And when the time comes, I can’t add any reason for them to?—”

“Contrary to what you may believe, you do not know everything about me,” I interrupted, gripping his shoulders.

I knew what he was hinting at.

The idea of returning to the Bronze Palace.

Of competing in the Trials.

Of leaving.

“Nor are you always right,” I added, tilting his chin up between my thumb and forefinger. “I do not want it. Any of it.”

I had convinced myself of that long ago.

I had hidden the pain of what their violence had done to me. He saw me differently than they did. And gods, did I appreciate him for it. But he needed to understand—what he saw and what they would see were not the same.

There was no choice. I couldn’t go back.

I would be killed on sight if I ever set foot in Solyndra again.

My mother probably would suffer the same fate. I could never betray her like that.

And none of that, compared to what I could become. What they’d already started to shape me into at nine.

No longer just the Council to fear, but those who now lived the fate I was destined for. The mirrors of what I’d almost become. Even if I survived, every day would be a battle for my life. Running and hiding in that bronze cage, pursued by the very council I would sit upon.

It wasn’t possible.

I had a chance at life, without being hunted.

I just needed time.

“I will remind you again if I must,” I ground out, frustration rolling off me in waves. “That is not my life anymore. It never will be. So be selfish. Be selfish with me. Be selfish for me. Stop looking for reasons to push me away.”

His gaze burned into mine. “Don’t ever think I don’t find any excuse to keep you near, no matter how it may damn us both.”

I couldn’t answer, didn’t know what could possibly convey everything I should say.

Not yet. There was still time.

So I kissed him.

I kissed him with everything I had to give.

I poured every unspoken word, every whispered dream, every quashed hope into that kiss. A declaration. An apology.

I wish I could tell you.

I’m sorry.

It would ruin everything.

It would be enough.

It had to be enough.