Page 20 of The Rivaled Crown (The Veiled Kingdom #3)

CHAPTER 20

VERENA

T he cavern walls still pulsed with energy, the ancient stone humming with the remnants of magic. My breathing had steadied, yet my body ached with an exhaustion that reached deep into my bones.

Every muscle burned. Every limb trembled.

The power I had wielded, the control I had found, had taken everything, but it had not broken me.

I ran my still trembling fingers down my arms, shaking a fine layer of dust from my skin as I made my way toward the mouth of the cave. My steps were slow, my body weak, but something inside me felt stronger.

Dacre.

The thought of him sent a sharp ache through my chest. His pulse still pounded against mine, steady, relentless, an echo inside me. He was looking for me. He had felt me. He knew.

A flicker of his warmth pressed against me, and I felt desperate to get to him.

The lantern light from outside the cave beckoned me forward, guiding me toward him. Toward home.

I picked up my pace, ignoring the way my limbs protested, ignoring the pain that ached through me, but just as I rounded the final bend in the tunnels, my body tensed.

Micah stood at the mouth of the cave waiting for me.

His posture was deceptively casual, one shoulder propped against the stone wall, arms crossed over his chest. But I saw the tension in the way his fingers curled slightly against his bicep, the way his gaze tracked me, flicking over my sweat-dampened skin, the bruises already forming along my flesh.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I clenched my fists.

Micah had been a shadow in my life—someone I had trusted once, someone who had helped me when no one else would. But he had also been there, standing in the corner of that cell, of that chamber, watching as my father tore me apart.

And he had done nothing.

“You look different.” His voice was quiet.

I exhaled sharply, squaring my shoulders and willing myself to let the sudden fear of seeing him take hold. “I am different.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. His gaze flickered downward, landing on my wrist. On the golden mark that bound me to Dacre.

His throat bobbed. “I saw what you did in there.”

I stiffened, and magic curled in my chest, restless. “Were you watching me train?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Micah held my gaze. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A bitter laugh slipped from my lips. “And?” I challenged, my fingers flexing at my sides. “What did you find?”

He pushed off the wall, stepping toward me with slow, careful steps. “Verena, I’m sorry.”

I went still, cold, and I could almost feel it the moment Dacre felt it too, as if he could sense my fear, my anger.

“Don’t you dare.” My voice was a warning, a blade unsheathed.

He halted abruptly as if my words created an invisible barrier that stopped him from moving another inch closer. “It’s true. I never wanted this to happen. I never imagined this is where we’d end up.”

I shook my head, trying to find my words, but finding them trapped beneath a rising tide of my anger.

“You remind me of the girl you were trying to run away from.” His voice was quieter now, his eyes studying me in a way that sent ice down my spine.

I knew the girl he spoke of. Not the girl from the castle he had watched wither away. Not the girl who had been locked in a gilded cage, waiting to be broken by powerful men.

He meant the girl from the streets.

The one who had fought to stay hidden, who had fought to survive. The one who had never wanted power, never wanted war. The girl who had only wanted to be free.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, my knuckles turning white.

He had no right to talk about that girl anymore.

“You stood by and did nothing while my father tore me apart,” I whispered, my voice shaking with barely contained fury.

Micah’s body tensed. He swallowed hard. “I know.”

The admission knocked the air from my lungs.

I had braced myself for excuses, for justifications, for a desperate attempt to rewrite the truth. But instead, there was only the weight of his guilt.

Micah exhaled harshly, shaking his head. “You think I don’t hate myself for that? For every moment I stood there just…watching? I had no choice, Verena.”

“You always have a choice,” I spat back, my voice a whip cracking between us. “You could have helped me.”

His eyes met mine, unflinching. “I did once.”

The breath left my lungs, but I wanted to scream.

“I helped you,” he continued, voice raw. “I took care of you in the streets. I taught you how to hide, how to survive.” His voice broke, and he clenched his fists like he could force himself to stay steady. “And for what? For you to fall right back into his hands, for you to fall into this damn rebellion that you never wanted any part of?”

His expression twisted, as if the words tasted like ash in his mouth.

Micah looked away, staring at the wall as if he could see the past etched into the stone. “They tore me apart too, you know,” he confessed. “The night that you were arrested, the night that his soldiers took me in…” He swallowed hard as if he could barely force the words from his lips. “The things your father did to me…I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t…” He cut himself off again. “I told them things I shouldn’t have. About you, about us hiding.”

My stomach turned.

“You gave me up.”

Micah flinched, just barely, but I saw it.

“Yes,” he admitted, and I could hear the agony in that single syllable. “Your father ripped the truth from my lips even when I tried not to let it out. I told him that you had run, that you had been living inside the city the entire time. I told him about the rebellion mark I had given you as a last-ditch attempt to save you if the rebellion were to find you.”

Instinctively, I wrapped my fingers around my left wrist, my thumb brushing over the ink Micah had burned into my skin all those years ago.

He took a step closer.

I jerked back before I could stop myself, my body reacting on instinct, as if he were still the man standing in my father’s palace. As if he were still the one who had stood by while I screamed.

Micah froze, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The cavern felt too small, the air too thick.

“I…” My breaths came too fast, my ribs tight around my lungs.

I had spent so many nights knowing Micah as my safe haven. But now, now I didn’t know who he was anymore.

The boy who had protected me in the streets.

The man who had betrayed me in the palace.

The ghost who stood before me now, full of regrets.

Micah’s throat bobbed, and he took the smallest step back, like he had just realized what had happened. Like he had seen the flicker of fear in my eyes and couldn’t bear it.

“Verena.” Micah exhaled heavily, his gaze flicking away, like he couldn’t look at me when he said what came next.

“I wasn’t just some boy who found you in the streets.” His voice was quieter now, like he was forcing himself to say it out loud. “I wasn’t just your friend.”

Something inside me stilled.

“What?”

Micah hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides before he let out a slow breath, like he was bracing himself for a blow. “I was meant to protect you, and I failed her.”

His words didn’t make sense, and I let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Micah’s jaw clenched. “Your mother,” he said slowly, carefully. “The queen and Elis.” His eyes flicked past me to where I had just left Dacre’s grandmother. “They entrusted me with you.”

The cavern tilted, and my stomach clenched violently, my pulse roaring in my ears. “No.” I shook my head, stepping back. “No, that’s not?—”

“That’s the truth,” he cut in, his voice steadier than mine. “I am from Veyrith, Verena.”

I barely heard him.

Everything inside me twisted, it rebelled against the words coming out of his mouth.

I had believed that Micah and I had been two lost people who had found each other in the wreckage of our lives, and that we had protected each other.

But it had been a lie from the beginning.

I wasn’t his friend. I wasn’t his family.

I was a duty. A responsibility. A burden.

“You were watching after me,” I whispered, my voice so small. “This whole time, you were just?—”

Micah’s throat bobbed. “I didn’t want to tell you,” he admitted. “Because after a while…” His brows pulled together, his voice raw. “You became my family.”

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough to erase the betrayal burning through my veins, setting fire to everything I thought I had known.

I stared at him, at the boy I had trusted with my life, the boy who had helped me find my first real taste of freedom.

And he had been sent to watch over me.

Micah watched me carefully, reading every emotion flickering across my face. “I was barely more than a child too, Verena. They asked me to look after you, but I never truly understood why. Not until I realized who you were.”

I let out a sharp breath. He had always known. He had known the whole time.

I hated the way my stomach twisted, hated the way my chest ached.

“I trusted you.” The words were a whisper. A hollow, aching whisper.

Micah’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “I know you did, and I’m sorry.”

I let out a sharp exhale, my eyes burning. “Why are you telling me this now?”

His expression shifted, his jaw tightening, his body so rigid that he looked like he wasn’t breathing.

“My sister,” he said, his voice raw, wrecked. “Verena, I have to go back for her.”

I blinked, the fire in my veins roaring hotter. “What?”

Micah’s fingers twitched at his sides, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “The king still has her.” His voice wavered, just slightly. “Your father has her. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Something in my chest cracked. I had spent so long trying not to care about what happened to him, trying to sever the part of me that still felt anything when it came to Micah.

But this was different because I knew what it was to be trapped in that palace. To feel the weight of my father’s cruelty like his hands were constantly wrapped around my throat.

“Micah, you can’t go back there.”

“I don’t have a choice.” His voice was low, almost desperate. “I left to help get you out, because Dacre had come and I couldn’t stand to watch it anymore. He was killing you.” He exhaled sharply, his hands shaking. “He agreed to let her live, only as long as I was compliant, only as long as I’d help him break you. And if I don’t go back soon, Verena, she won’t survive.”

My throat tightened painfully, and magic thrummed within me, aching and angry. Every bit of control I had just felt in that cave disappeared.

“I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll lie, I’ll steal, I’ll—” Betray me. “I can’t lose her.”

I had spent so long hating him, resenting him, but he didn’t have a choice.

Just like I hadn’t had a choice.

The realization curled through me, unwelcomed. Micah and I had walked different paths, but they had still led us both to the same place.

To a prison neither of us had ever truly escaped from.

Everything I thought I had known about Micah, about us, had unraveled before my eyes, leaving behind something raw and exposed.

He had been sent to protect me. He had known what I was before I did. He had lied, but he had also suffered.

I forced myself to breathe, trying to shove away the weight pressing against my ribs, the emotions clawing at my throat. “Then why are you here?”

“Because despite what you might think, I believe in you.” His expression twisted, something sharp flashing behind his eyes. “I already watched Veyrith burn. I watched my parents wither away with it.”

Another lie. Another thing I thought I knew about him but didn’t.

“You’re the only one who can stop him, Verena,” he said, his voice rough. “But I need you to know, I need you to understand, that if I have to choose between saving her or saving your rebellion—” His fists clenched at his sides. “It won’t be a choice.”

Silence stretched between us, and he took a step back, then another. His eyes lingered on me for a long moment, and when I didn’t say anything, he turned, walking away.

I swallowed hard, forcing down the tangled mess of emotions clawing at my throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I called after him. “Why didn’t you find me the moment you arrived here and tell me about her?”

Micah paused just before the cave curved out of sight, his shoulders stiff. He didn’t look at me at first, didn’t turn until the silence stretched so thin I thought it might snap.

Then, finally, he glanced back.

“I let him torture you.” His voice was quiet, rough. “I stood there and did nothing while you screamed.”

A breath shuddered through him, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I didn’t want to add another burden for you to carry,” he admitted, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Another thing to break you.”

His gaze lingered on mine for only a second.

Then, he was gone.