Page 37 of Blackheart

I nodded, turning to face him. “Oh, I know.”

He told me about his life as well.

He told me how he loved mathematics now, but when he was younger, he hated it. He told me how his childhood had been spent learning swordsmanship and that he and his bastard brother bonded over it. He wished his brother never had to leave Drakington, but he was proud of him for taking the traditionally passed down spot of Keeper of the Bastard Kingdom. Clarke hated courting and had not wanted to take a wife for the longest time. When he found Lady Delaina of Jadehill, he was relieved. He discussed marriage and how making an heir had been a difficult and, at times, devastating process for his wife. He spoke of Princess Clayvarie’s birth as if it were the best day of his life. He didn’t bring up the day she was poisoned and didn’ttalk about creating the Waywards or the looming war with the Sapphires. The entire interaction was surreal. It was as if I was catching up with an old friend, not talking to a stranger, much less theking.

“You would like my brother, Xavian,” King Clarke added.

My arms rested behind my head. The night sky above was so relaxing that I did not want to ever look away. I had never known much about the Lord of the Bastard Kingdom, just that he ruled Clarke’s second kingdom with much more leniency than Drakington.

“Why’s that?” My voice was a soft chime, like I was in a dream.

“Because he’s a lot like you.”

I wasn't sure if I would like someone like me.

“Your Grace,” Riven interrupted, stepping out onto the balcony.

I sat up, but King Clarke did not.

“I know,” the king said softly. He pulled his handkerchief out, wiping away the blood that trickled from his nose once more.

He was a Lyonheart with a historically strong bloodline. If he were truly unable to heal himself, his condition must have been awful.

“Elora, I have one more story to tell you.”

As the king spoke, Riven refused to look at me. Instead, he faced the city, tension sinking into his brows.

My heart sank.

“About?” I asked quietly.

“My brother.”

Xavian Steele, the Lord of Castivian.

Drakington had claimed the second kingdom generations ago, always passing the title down to royal bastards. The tradition started when a king’s bastard discovered the Castivian territory, claiming it for his father. The king named his bastardLord and Keeper of Castivian, allowing the lands to be ruled in their own way, as long as they paid their taxes and kept their loyalty to the mother kingdom. From what I’d heard, the land itself was massive, just across the Sea of Blades.

I was relieved to know it was just another story about his brother.

“I’d love to hear it,” I said, relaxing back in my chair.

Riven walked away.

“I was the only legitimate heir born during my father’s reign. They say he didn’t spend enough time in the bedroom with my mother because he was utterly in love with his mistress. I was ten when she became with child, and my mother despised her for it. My father didn’t care what she or the council had to say. He doted on his mistress in the castle during her entire pregnancy. I liked her a lot. She was kind and made my father, who was a stern man, laugh.”

“That was Xavian Steele’s mother?” I cut in.

He gave me a hard look, but continued. “Yes. I remember the night her labors began. I was elated to have a sibling, bastard or not. I snuck into the crowded room, watching from the corner as my father stayed with her the entire time. It wasn’t proper for a king, but he loved her. He vowed to raise the bastard as his own, in the castle for all to see until he was old enough to claim his place in Castivian.”

“And that’s what he did? You and Lord Xavian grew up together here?”

Dustings of snow sprinkled from the sky, though never reached my face as his Lyonheart magic swirled around like a shield.

King Clarke certainly did not like when I interrupted his story, as he paused again before continuing.

“Xavian did grow up here, yes. Anyhow, I watched from the corner as he was born, pink and wailing. Natureless and pure. ‘A strong boy,’ they’d promised he would be.”

“Well, that was a cute story,” I said, finally at ease.