Page 22

Chapter Twenty-One: Dolian

Two weeks prior

My teeth grit together as I watch her run towards the trees, holding his hand. The familiarity with which they interacted causes the rage already simmering inside me to intensify.

She is mine.

I am not your queen , she had yelled with more fire than I had ever known her to have. It should anger me, to hear her deny what I know to be fact, but instead, all it does is ignite my yearning for her even further. I knew a certain kernel of defiance was glimmering within her; I had just been wrong that it was only a remnant of her father. No, this brand of rebellion was purely created from her mother’s side, and despite my wishes to, I couldn’t hate it. I couldn’t snuff it out entirely. Not when it reminded me of Luna.

“Do you want me to go with the rest of the King’s Guard, Your Majesty?” my personal guard, Jorah, asks.

“Yes. Inform the captain that if he values his head, they will be brought back to me by any means necessary.”

Jorah nods before running behind me to find the captain in the throng of golden-armored men.

Turning on my heel, I begin my walk back to her tower, my steps slow and staggered as I try to refrain from limping. For nearly twenty-two years, I have kept her safe and hidden in plain sight. Everyone knows the princess lives, the heir to the throne , but they all think that she is nothing more than a woman grieving, lost in the turmoil of her mind. This lie prevents questions from arising about my reign. Unfortunately, it appears Rhea had been keeping things from me as well.

She has magic. My grip on my sword tightens as I cross the crushed wildflowers to the base of the tower, the voices of men and clanging of metal fading into the forest. How could she have hidden that from me for so long? All this time I had been waiting…

They will find her and bring her back. And when they do, I will get answers.

Rolling my shoulders back, I open the arched door of the tower, and my boot immediately hits something hard. Lifting my sword, I stagger back and strain my eyes to see into the darkness. “Show yourself to your king!”

A muffled groan sounds out in response, and I allow my grip on the sword to loosen. Stepping forward again, I squat and squint my eyes to try and make out who is in front of me. My free hand reaches out for what must be a gag—barely made visible in the silver light of the moon shining through the door behind me—and yank it down.

“It’s me,” the man— Xander —gasps.

“What happened?” I growl, helping one of my Trusted up.

“There is a small blade strapped to my thigh,” he rasps, wobbly on his feet. Finding the blade, I cut the bindings from his hands before handing it to him to remove the ones at his feet.

“Tell me how this happened now , Xander.” He had been missing for an entire day, and though I was inclined to believe that he was perhaps incapacitated, one can never be too sure when in my position. No matter our personal relationship, I learned firsthand how quickly a man could change allegiances with the right motivation.

“Her guard,” he says, leaning a shoulder against the stone of the tower as he runs a hand through his hair. “She attempted to escape yesterday, and—”

I cross the space between us quickly, my forearm coming to his throat as I slam his head against the stone. “What did you say?”

“She tried to escape yesterday,” he wheezes, the pressure I put on his neck causing his breaths to become labored.

My anger is a living monster within me, and I welcome the way it turns my impulses into murderous ones, my thoughts all screaming to drive my sword into his neck. Regardless of the blood that flows in his veins. But I need more information, so reluctantly, I let him go. His coughing is like nails dragging along stone while I wait for him to elaborate.

“I was talking with her guard—Flynn—on the bridge, and she stepped through the tower door there. I caught her down here. She also had a white fox with her.”

My leg burns with pain in response, the bite from that fox flaring back to life.

“I had brought her back to her room and was on my way to tell you when Flynn attacked me. He was able to get the upper hand and then bound me down here.” He swallows, his gaze leveling with mine. “He fought differently than how we train our men to fight.”

I turn without another word and head up the stairs, leaving Xander to decide if he is going to follow me or not. The steps up to the top are many, and it gives me plenty of time to think about how this could have happened. Somehow, despite the fact that I always had a second pair of eyes on the tower door, Rhea was able to befriend this guard. One that is much younger than Alexi. Than even myself. My steps turn more aggressive as I near the top.

If he so much as touched her… I shake my head and blow a breath out. It matters not because once she is back in my possession, I will make sure she never leaves again.

The wooden door creaks as I push it open and step in, the space feeling empty and cold without her here—though her scent still lingers in the air. Lilies. So similar to the flower her mother smelled of. Exhaling roughly, I walk around the main room. Each of my visits here had been purposeful. I never allowed myself to fully take in the space that Rhea dwelled in all day and night. I couldn’t. It further crushed a long since shrunken part of me that wanted to nurture and care for her in a different way. But history had proven to me that I would lose her if I did that. If I didn’t mold her into who I knew she was capable of being, she would be lost for good. Everything I did was to make her worthy of the title she would gain by my side: Queen of the Mortal Kingdom.

My steps echo against the wood floors as I enter the library. I had already been cut out of Luna’s life by the time she was pregnant with Rhea, but even I had heard about her newfound interest in the old guard tower. It’s the main reason why I placed Rhea here instead of somewhere in the castle. I hoped she might feel somewhat connected to the woman who curated the space. Despite how things fell apart between us in the end, Luna would always have her fingers wrapped around a piece of my heart.

Walking over to the window seat, my gaze is drawn to the book lying in the middle: The Little Sun. Despite myself, I cannot help the small tilt of my lips. When Luna first came to the castle as a maid, she carried this book everywhere with her. I had made her read it to me over and over again in our early days of friendship, and she obliged every time. The memory washes through me, but I allow none of my feelings to latch on to it. That time is long gone, and in the end, she betrayed me as everyone else had. Flipping through the pages, I stop when I see a flash of misplaced paper. I hear Xander come into the library but give him no mind as I read the words Rhea wrote.

Trust the stars over the ancient trees to guide me from the false king. And look to the east for the answers I seek.

I crumple the paper in my hand, twisting my neck side to side to stretch the muscles out as I work to tame the monster inside of me.

“What is it?” Xander asks.

“She is heading towards the Mage Kingdom,” I grit out. I know the Mage Kingdom’s secret; one they’ve guarded since the war. With Rhea being part mage, she will be able to pass through the Spell without repercussion. My guards have to get to her before then.

I slap the note into Xander’s hand before forcing my injured leg to move me across the space to the door and back down the steps. Once I’m finally on the bridge, I find one of the remaining captains.

“They are heading towards the Mage Kingdom border. Send enough men so that, no matter where they try to enter, they fail.”

He nods, turning back to run and gather the rest. They will stop them, and she will be back in the safety of our kingdom soon enough. Any other option is not acceptable.

Present

“Your Majesty, I have your tea.” The maid’s voice travels through the door.

“Come in,” I command, leaning back in my armchair as I stare out of the floor-to-ceiling window to the gardens below. Each day with no word whether or not Rhea is making her way back to me is nothing short of a flame being held to my skin. I need her here; I need to know that she is safe once more. Now that she is officially twenty-two, I can proceed with my plans of wedding her and making her my queen. I need to solidify making her fully mine.

The maid sets my tea on the table at my side, pouring the dark liquid into the porcelain tea cup until it’s half full. Steam curls up and over its edge as I reach for the carafe of milk and add a small splash.

“Is there anything else you require, Your Majesty?”

“No, you are free to go.” She curtsies, her footsteps nearly silent as she heads towards the door. “Tienne,” I call out, my gaze back on the window in front of me while I take a small sip of tea.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Do you have any news to report on our little side project?”

After Rhea’s escape, I knew that someone had to have been helping her beyond the mage parading as a mortal guard. My grip on the teacup tightens, heat from the steaming hot liquid scalding me.

“Not yet, Sire. As you can imagine, everyone is being very tight-lipped about who worked on her supply orders and if anyone beyond the newest guard delivered them to her.”

I smirk at her obvious attempt not to name Flynn . Perhaps she did notice the way my hands fisted the last time I spoke of him. Perceptive little maid . I stand, setting my cup down on its saucer before turning to stride towards her. Her attention to detail means that she should have caught something, should know more about who could have possibly assisted Rhea. Stopping before her, I force the fury I feel inside to show up in the clench of my jaw and glint in my eyes.

“I will find out who aided Flynn in abducting the princess. If one of the things I learn is that you helped them or that you are withholding information,” I pause, leaning in close enough that I can see the way her pulse flutters at her neck. My voice is a blade honed by years of being on the receiving end of similar words. “I will not hesitate to remove your head. Do I make myself clear?” I devour the way her cheeks flush and her chest rises and falls quickly in fear. Gods, she nearly smells like she’s afraid, and it would be so easy to act on my desire for it. To draw more and more of that dread from her until nothing remains and then force her to draw everything from me with her mouth or hands or body.

But she doesn’t look like Rhea, and so I force my blood to cool as she responds.

“Of course, Your Majesty. I will get answers for you.”

“Good. Now, get out.” Turning back to the window, I once more look upon the garden.

Memories of the first time I had shown it to Luna come to me unbidden. She was so beautiful as she walked barefoot among the flowers, encouraging me to do the same. Our fingers dragged along the delicate petals, the floral fragrance pungent in the air around us, as we talked and laughed. It was nearly a perfect moment—until my father had found us there and punished me for it. For showing any ounce of joy. For having a friend.

I close my eyes and grit my teeth, pushing the memories back down. When another knock sounds on my door, I have to fight the urge to shatter the tea set across from me as I scream, “What?”

“Your Majesty, the council is ready for you,” Simon, my closest advisor, says through the door.

Swallowing down my annoyance, I walk over to the large standing mirror leaning up against one of the stone walls. I hate the stone—hate how easily it brings me back to that damp, confined space beneath the castle where my father often locked me.

When I became king, I made them cover as much of it as possible with tapestries, paintings, and colorful fabrics embroidered with my sigil. Anything to hide the way that the cold gray seemed to penetrate every inch of this place. I even hired artists to paint directly on it—fantastical scenes of faraway lands and mythical creatures. But it never seemed to stay hidden, the stone’s true color finding a way to peek through any of my attempts to muffle it.

My hand smooths down my vest, my attire not showing a single wrinkle. I tilt my head, inspecting my hair to make sure not one strand is out of place and that my beard is neatly trimmed. Satisfied with my appearance, I open the door and join Simon out in the hall. The man was an advisor to my brother during his brief reign as king, his age only showing through the silver strands mixing with black in his hair. After Conrad’s death, he was eager to show his allegiance to me, even taking a blood oath without question.

“Has there been any word on the return of the guards?” I ask, keeping my gaze forward as we stride down an ornate gold and navy blue adorned hallway. Rugs in the same colors cushion our steps, none of the gray stone visible in this corridor. To my right, golden sconces hold flame gems, the sun shining in through small windows on my left charging them with daylight. I can’t be entirely sure, but I believe I have every single flame gem known to exist in the Mortal Kingdom now fixed to some wall in this castle. Excluding the one that ended up in Rhea’s tower.

“No word yet, Your Majesty. But if you sent the King’s Guard to the Mage Kingdom border, we wouldn’t expect them to be back until today at the earliest.”

I force out a breath at his explanation. He isn’t wrong, but two weeks is a long time to wait for my future bride to make her way back to me. I have spent the entire time since her abduction working out how to ensure that, once she is back, she will never leave again. I thought about forcing her to take a blood oath, but without knowing the extent of her magic , I didn’t want to chance that she could work around it. As it appeared Flynn had. If that was even his real name. I had combed through every detail that my royal army had on the man, and somehow, he had managed to fake everything about himself well enough that no one questioned him. I would have beheaded every single person responsible for allowing him to infiltrate my kingdom if I could have, but the royal council wouldn’t approve such a thing, and I need them on my side for what I am planning to do once I have Rhea back.

I lead us into the large room that houses meetings of the Royal Council. Vaulted ceilings stretch high overhead, coming to a point and making the gray stone impossible to totally cover here—though I have tried my best to do so. The room is regal, full of my ancestors’ history and our refined tastes. Golden rugs cover every square inch of the floor, and woven tapestries, the largest in the entire realm, stretch from corner to corner. The images on them are more realistic—paintings surrounding us of the day the realms were separated by the Spell and the war that had ignited it.

A long wooden table is centered in the room, a large candelabra alight in its middle. Though the sun shines in from the many windows on the back wall, there is an ambience that only a dancing flame can provide. One of menace and deeply rooted unease. A subtle reminder for these men before me that, though I may heed their guidance now and again, my word is rule— is law. And no one will stand in the way of me getting what I want.

Simon joins the five other men already standing at the table while I take my time walking to the grande chair set at the head, a hand in my pocket as I do so. My fingers clutch the handkerchief with my initials embroidered on it—the remnants of her blood still woven within the fabric. It is vile to not have washed it, but it felt like I finally had a piece of her to keep with me at all times. I didn’t want to let it go—let her go. The men stand at attention, their chins dipped ever so slightly in respect as they wait until I take my seat before following suit.

“Good morning, gentlemen. What updates do you have for me?”

Leopold clears his throat, his blue eyes lifting to mine as he begins to speak about the Cruel Death. I have to force myself to listen, to not let my frustration at being unable to quash that which jeopardizes my sovereignty drown out every word he is saying. “Unfortunately, a total of one hundred men and women have died from the Cruel Death in the past month.”

My eyes widen imperceptibly as I level him with a glare. “Were there any commonalities between them? Anything at all?”

“Besides being close in age and the fact that the majority are from smaller cities outside of Vitour, nothing else.”

Fucking hell. The room is silent as I rub my fingers over my jaw, my other hand still clutching the bloodstained fabric in my pocket. The numbers are getting worse, the death rate growing, despite my every attempt to quell the sickness. I hadn’t cared until it started taking men that were of age to join the guard. Mortals don’t have magic, so our strength lies in our numbers, and the Cruel Death was just that—cruel in the way it was slowly thinning us out.

“There is another matter we must speak of, Your Majesty,” Paul, the oldest advisor and arguably my biggest critic, croaks from his seat at the far end. Tension lines his withered face, his glassy light brown eyes narrowing.

“By all means, Paul, don’t make me wait forever.” I gesture with my free hand.

“It is with regard to the princess. And the resources you sent to retrieve her. With our numbers already dwindling, do you think it wise to have sent more than half the guard to scour the kingdom for her?”

Simon, in his seat next to Paul, smirks at the question. I force the corner of my lips to lift as well, the other men adjusting subtly in their chairs because of it.

“She is royalty, is she not? Why wouldn’t I send men out to rescue a kidnapped princess?” It was the lie I had told everyone, that her guard had kidnapped her. None of them know the secret of what mages can do—how they can pass through the Spell without consequence. The members of the King’s Guard are sworn in blood to obey my every command, including that they not speak of any of the missions I send them on.

“I suppose that I mean why waste resources getting her back? She is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. She matters not—”

“She matters to me!” I yell, slamming a fist on the table. “I will not have you question what I value.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty. I simply meant that she represents a threat to your crown. She is the true heir. What if she is found and contests your rule—”

“You do not know her as I do, Paul. She will come back, and she will do so willingly.” His bald head shines with sweat, the look of it churning my stomach, so I turn my focus back on the other men around me. “And when she returns, she will stand behind me while I continue leading this kingdom—as my bride.”

While most of the men do a good job at hiding their reaction to my reveal, a few of them cannot help the way their jaws slacken in response. Paul is the only one dumb enough to spew his thoughts.

“Your—your bride, Your Majesty? But she is your—”

“That is enough. Any more discussion of her will result in the immediate termination of your position.” And the loss of his life, but he knows the truth of those words without needing them spoken. “Surely, then, you have said everything you intend to on the matter?” My hand lazily gestures towards Paul, my face once again relaxed into an easy one of boredom.

“Of course, Your Majesty. My apologies again.”

The door to the council room opens, and Xander walks in, coming to stop at the other end of the table. He bows to me before straightening.

“Your Majesty, the first group of guards has returned.”

My body stiffens as I look at him, that seedling of something light and reminiscent of hope sparking within me. “And? Do they have her?” I should have done a better job hiding the eagerness in my voice, but it’s too late now.

Xander doesn’t do anything for the longest time before he eventually gives one shake of his head.

No. No. No. “Everyone out.”

Paul leans forward in his chair and squawks out, “But, My King, there is still much we need to discuss.”

I force my gaze to meet his decrepit one. “You’re right. Why don’t you stay? Everyone else, leave.”

No one speaks a word as they filter out until only Xander and Paul remain. I stand from my golden throne and walk down the length of the table to where Xander is waiting, Paul to our right.

“How many more guards are left to return?”

“About half. Perhaps she will be with that group,” he suggests though he doesn’t sound confident.

“Report back to me the instant they’re here.” Xander nods, turning on his heel, but my next words halt his exit. “I have need of your sword. Wait outside the door.”

My curt command is met with a brief moment of hesitation before Xander heeds it and unsheathes the golden longsword from his hip. I wait until the door closes behind him, watching as Paul grips the armrests of his wooden chair.

She isn’t with them.

Somehow, she managed to slip through my fingers and most likely ended up on the other side of the Spell. With him.

“My King, I know you are upset—”

“Upset? No . No, Paul, that word does not begin to scratch the surface of how I am feeling.” My breathing is unsteady as my grip on the sword tightens. I walk around the table until I’m behind the elderly advisor’s chair. My eyes close, and I picture what I’m about to do in my mind. How it will feel to silence this idiot forever. “I might have let you go, even with the way you spoke of your future queen, but to be honest, Paul, I have dreamed of doing this for quite some time.”

He gets nothing more than a few sputtered words out before I swing the sharpened blade. It cuts through his flesh easily, his head falling backward and rolling past where I stand. Blood splatters my clothing and shoes, layering over my face and hands.

She is with him.

The thought tumbles over and over in my head, my hand shaking as I turn and walk to the door of the council room. Opening it, I hand the sword back to Xander. “Clean that up.”

My skin begins to burn where his blood coats it, but I force my steps to stay steady as I make my way to my rooms and remind myself to be patient. If Rhea has truly escaped to the Mage Kingdom, then I will do whatever is necessary to bring her home. With the right motivation, anyone can be convinced to give up anything .