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Thorne

“ Y ou’re rather dull tonight, my dear friend,” Galen slurred from across his study as he threw his legs over the arm of the black velvet chair.

Scratching at my temple, I swirled the glass of amber liquid in my other hand. “Am I? Or are you perhaps drunker than usual, my dear king?” I mimicked his tone.

Galen laughed, the sound echoing off the light gray marble walls. Most definitely drunk. He tipped his glass to me. “Fair enough. I suppose the question is, why aren’t you drunk as well?”

And I supposed the answer was because someone needs to keep the king in line.

Or my personal favorite, because I’m not the one hiding from my responsibility in the bottom of every bottle in Mysthelm.

“Don’t tempt me, Galen,” I said instead, giving him a smirk. “One of us has to be alert for the meeting in the morning, yes?”

He rolled his eyes, and a lock of normally well-kept hair fell onto his golden-brown forehead. “Another meeting. Don’t you ever get sick of all of them? One after another after another. They’re so incredibly boring .”

Standing, I crossed to his chair and plucked the empty glass from his gloved hand. My boots padded against the thick black and gray rug. “Very. But considering you appointed me to be one of your advisors, I unfortunately still have to go. As do you.”

“Says who? I’m the king. I can do whatever I want.”

I bit down on my tongue. “Galen, I say this as your best friend. You’re an insufferable drunk.”

“And you used to be the fun one,” he responded. “What happened to Thorne Reaux, the man whose idea of a casual night out was to drink me under the table, get kicked out of at least two bars, and take home any girl he wanted?”

He grew up , I thought, but couldn’t help chuckling at the pout on Galen’s face. “I could still drink you under the table. Difference is, your table is now plated in gold and says ‘King of Mysthelm.’ Our lives changed, Galen. In more ways than one.”

He stared at me for a moment, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The glow from the fire crackling in the fireplace cast shadows over his dark features. “What I would give for just a moment of those old days again,” he said, the slur now more pronounced.

My chest tightened. As much as he might irritate me at times, I knew these nights and this behavior came from a place of sorrow. Galen Grimaldi had the world thrust onto his shoulders seemingly overnight—and my best friend had never been one to carry weight well.

We sat in silence for a moment, with only the sound of flames snapping and popping in a hypnotic trance.

Galen’s study in the palace had become a safe haven of sorts.

It wasn’t so much a “study” as it was a place for us to go and drink and get away from the world.

Two plush black velvet chairs sat opposite each other across the large rug, with the fireplace to our right and a towering bookshelf to our left.

Behind Galen’s chair stood his desk, which hadn’t been used in Fates knew how long.

A potted tree sat in the corner next to it.

The space was dark but cozy, and not many people were allowed in.

“How’s your mother doing?” I asked quietly.

He waved a hand in the air, eyes still closed. “Oh, you know. Same as always. The nurses try to play me for an idiot, but I see the bloody cloths. I hear her coughing at night.” He swallowed hard and kicked his feet against the side of the chair. “Sounds more and more like Father did.”

Before the disease took him , I finished in my head. The former King of Mysthelm, Orion Grimaldi, had been dead for eight months now. Even if he barely talked about it, I knew it tore at Galen. I didn’t want to imagine what he would turn into if his mother died of the same illness.

“I’m sure the healers will find a remedy soon,” I said.

“Oh, yes,” Galen burst out, jumping to his feet.

He swayed for a moment, then righted himself.

He began pacing the room on unsteady legs, almost stumbling over the low coffee table before the fireplace.

“That’s what everyone says. Talking down to me like I’m a child.

They think telling me the same thing over and over will make me answer all their little questions ,” he drawled, then pitched his voice so it mocked those of his advisors.

“‘The coffers are running low, Your Majesty.’ And ‘The Mid Territory is asking if you’ll investigate the farmland fires.’ And ‘Please, King Grimaldi, we need you to sign off on the rehousing agreement from the floods.’” As he spoke, he took his frustration out on his gloves, tugging off the fingers one by one and throwing them on the ground to expose bare skin.

My spine stiffened when he paced closer to me, my eyes shifting to his hand. “Galen?—”

“Honestly, I don’t know how my father did it. But we always knew he was a better man than me. A better king .” He drew nearer, holding out his ungloved hand to reach for the glass in mine.

“Galen, stop?—”

“I just need a moment of peace, Thorne. Don’t you understand? Is that too much to ask for?”

Heart hammering in my chest, I backed away and shouted, “Galen!”

He halted in his tracks. Cursing, he spun away, scrambling for the gloves discarded on the floor. “I’m sorry, Thorne. I wasn’t thinking.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I blinked back the rush of adrenaline and let out a breath. “You’ve got to be more careful.”

“Yes, I realize that,” he snapped. “Why do you think I wear these”—he flapped the gloves angrily in the air—“day and night?”

Silence fell over us, thick and tense. He shoved the gloves back on.

I sighed. “Sober up, Galen. This meeting tomorrow is important.”

“I know.” He glanced at his feet, all signs of anger instantly gone. His face crumpled as he sank into his chair, rubbing a hand down his freshly shaven chin. “We have to get her here.”

Her . The empress from across the sea.

When he’d found out a young, unmarried woman had taken over our neighbor to the north, hope had sparked inside him, turning him into an entirely new man.

Galen had been pushing for her to come ever since he made contact with the Veridian Empire shortly after his father’s passing.

The meeting tomorrow was to finalize details for her arrival, as well as plans to announce their engagement.

For the life of me, I couldn’t understand his sudden sense of urgency.

All he would say was that he needed to marry this empress.

Needed to unite our two lands. He would never give me a straight answer when I asked why he was so intent on this marriage, other than some vague soliloquy about wanting to right the wrongs of the Veridian Empire and Mysthelm.

“Not everyone will approve of her. You know that, don’t you?” I warned him. “There will be unrest once you make this official.”

“I know,” he repeated.

“How do you plan to handle that?”

He threw his hands up. “How should I know, Thorne? I’ve never done this before. I’ll do whatever the other regents and my council tell me to.”

I turned my back on him to face the liquor cart, grabbing another drink in order to hide my clenched jaw.

He’d been my best friend for as long as I could remember, but his indecisiveness and ignorance were more than I had the patience for sometimes.

He didn’t seem to care that I was trying to help him.

I did used to be the fun one. Now, I wasn’t sure either of us were.

“And you still think bringing this empress over is a good idea?” I asked.

Some of our people here in Mysthelm were vehemently opposed to a Veridian—someone with foreign, dangerous magic—entering our shores.

Our magic-less shores. Even though the war between us had ended three hundred years ago, many still held grudges against them, so deeply entrenched in our history that it was difficult to shake.

I didn’t know if Galen’s tremulous hold on his citizens would last after this final straw. I’d already begun to hear disgruntled buzzing from the other territories, revealing their unhappiness since King Orion died. If Galen didn’t get a handle on things, I feared tensions would only worsen.

“I’m not arguing with you about this again. I have to marry her, Thorne. End of discussion.”

Facing him, I weighed the pros and cons of starting this debate once more before realizing a drunk Galen would get us nowhere. Nodding curtly, I said, “We’ll have all the details worked out soon. Don’t worry about getting her here—we’ll make sure it happens, if that’s truly what you want.”

He cracked a smile, his eyes going in and out of focus. “I leave all the worrying for you now, don’t I? I swear, you didn’t have a wrinkle on that pretty face seven years ago.” His brow furrowed. “Speaking of which, where’s Marigold tonight?”

“With her grandmother.”

“Ah, probably for the best. Wouldn’t want her to see you having too much fun ,” he slurred. “Whaddya say, old friend? One more drink?”

I shook my head, but a laugh escaped me. “You’re hopeless, and you’re going to hate yourself in the morning. ”

“I didn’t hear a no.”

I grabbed the bottle of white liquor from the cart, slipping back into the version of me he always tried to get me to become again. It felt like that man was harder and harder to find. “One more drink.”

I raised a glass to my lips and tossed it back, the alcohol burning as it hit my throat. But out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the once lush, tall tree by Galen’s desk, now shriveled and black, shadows from the gnarled branches reaching toward us like claws.