Page 14 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

L ater that evening Rose sunk into her vanity chair, still absorbing the news.

Her mother had gone downstairs on an errand and hadn’t returned, likely managing damage control.

She’d attempted to fill the time by reading one of her favorite novels, but even that had failed to capture her attention today.

Thea had kept her company until she was summoned back to her duties.

Hours had passed, and she still hadn’t heard anything.

As the sun dipped closer to the horizon, she let out a deep sigh, placing the makeup brush she had been playing with back on the vanity. Rising from her seat, she made her way through the adjacent doors to the balcony, leaning on the railing.

The once-sparse clouds had disappeared as the sun fell, painting the blue sky with gentle strokes of orange, purple, and pink. The soft colors floated on the waves below, flooding the horizon. Sunsets in Cathan were always like this: unmatched to all others.

A sight Xavier would never see again.

She still didn’t understand. Why hadn’t he defended himself? Why did he care so little about his future? Or his family? Did he despise them all so much he’d rather spend the rest of his life in exile? Countless questions swirled, and she feared she’d never get answers… or maybe she could.

An idea popped into her head. It was a terrible one, and it would probably get her into trouble if she was found out, but she had to try.

She didn’t stew on it long, acting before she could come to her senses.

She reached the southeast wing in record time, the halls oddly barren for this hour.

She assumed everyone was gathered in the grand hall, chatting and wagering on the next successor.

It wouldn’t surprise her if they were already putting forth nominees.

It disgusted her to think of how many had prayed for this opportunity.

And she’d just given it to them on a silver platter.

She navigated the winding staircase and continued down the stone corridor, turning right towards the dungeons.

When she arrived at the iron-gated door, she found two guards stationed at the entrance.

“Open the gate,” she commanded.

The taller one put his hand up in protest. “My lady, I don’t know if?—”

“Please,” she pleaded, her voice strung with desperation. “I’ll only be a moment.”

The guard hesitated, contemplating her request. To her surprise, he agreed. “Stay six feet from the cell door,” he cautioned, letting her through.

“I will, thank you.”

She stepped over the threshold and walked down the dark, wide stone corridor. The air felt different here, like a damp swamp on a hot, humid day. She resisted the urge to cover her nose as she glanced into each dim cell. All empty. It wasn’t until she reached the final cell that she spotted him.

He was sitting on a flimsy straw-stuffed bed, hunched over as he rested his elbows on his knees. His hands were interlocked on the back of his neck, his head hung down, staring at his feet, dark hair concealing his face. The sparse torches left him shadowed as she studied his pitiful frame.

“I thought I told you to stay away from me.” Xavier’s rough voice ground out without moving from his hunched-over position.

She took a few small steps closer to his cell, doing her best to quell her nerves. The longer she stood there, the more she regretted not thinking this through. “I came to ask, why? Why did you do it?”

He ignored her, offering nothing.

She tried a different approach.

She lifted her gaze to the dancing flames of a nearby torch.

“You know, when I watched you go through your succession trials, I remember being so worried for you. You were only eighteen, going up against three fully grown men, and I thought there was no way you could manage it… But against all odds, you won.” Her gaze returned to him.

She crept closer to his cell, her voice growing stronger.

“You won , and not just by the skin of your teeth. Every obstacle thrown at you, you not only beat but excelled at. Your men followed you into the heart of the bog without question. You outsmarted a Sphinx. You climbed to the top of a mountain with bloodied hands and three arrows embedded in your back. I remember scolding myself for ever underestimating you. I promised myself I would never do it again… but now, I don’t see that man anymore. ”

She waited.

No response.

She dug deeper. “Do you remember when you saved my life at the river? When you sprinted for miles, carrying me?”

No response. Not a sigh, a scoff, a glare. Nothing.

She ground her teeth in frustration. Her questions became rhetorical. “After all that… I suppose I’m just wondering. What happened? What did I do? I don’t understand what I could have possibly done to make you hate me so much.”

She stood there for what seemed like ages, hoping he’d say something, anything. After a long moment, she realized she was misguided in expecting any answers. She was wasting her time.

She went to leave.

“I hurt you,” he uttered at last, his voice so low it was almost unrecognizable.

She turned back. He was not only speaking but standing, moving across the cell, clutching the bars of the door with his bruised knuckles as he finally looked at her. “I hurt you,” he repeated. “Do you even get that? Are you really that stupid?”

A flash of anger flared within her. “I was there. I know what you did.” She lifted her chin and exposed her bandage. His eyes flickered to it as they hardened. “But it doesn’t help the guilt of knowing I sparked this.”

He hit the bars, and she jumped as the reverberation echoed. “Dammit, Rose!”

The sudden commotion alerted the guards down the hallway, but she raised her hand to signal it was all right.

Xavier gripped the bars tighter, his voice unforgiving as he said, “You don’t get to feel guilty for my decisions. I own them.” He glared at her with disgust—with her or himself, she didn’t know.

Their eye contact was severed when an angry voice echoed through the dungeons.

“Open the door!” Tristan’s voice echoed.

She swerved towards the iron doors while Xavier muttered a curse under his breath.

Within moments, Tristan was at her side.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” Without waiting for an answer, he took her arm, trying to drag her from the cell.

“Tristan, stop.” She tried to yank her arm away from him, but he didn’t move. Not an inch.

“Yes, please,” Xavier drawled. “Keep going, and you’ll end up in a cell just like me.”

In a flash, Tristan’s fists pounded on the barred door, while his other hand shot through the bars, gripping Xavier by the neck.

“Tristan!” she yelled.

“You are dead to me,” Tristan spat with a vile sneer. “If I ever see you anywhere near her again, I swear, brother or not, I will break you.” He released him, shoving Xavier backward.

She didn’t get another word in before Tristan grabbed her hand, forcing her away. She didn’t resist this time.

They didn’t speak as he led her through the corridors. He didn’t let go of her hand until they were outside on the main patio. She would’ve stopped to admire the geraniums lining the railings if she wasn’t so preoccupied.

She readied herself for his disapproval. “Tristan?—”

“You asked for him to be pardoned ?” He rounded on her, his boiling anger steaming out of his ears. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it. “What the hell, Rose? What part of he hurt you do you not understand?! What possible reason could you give me that makes sense!”

“Tristan, that’s not who I grew up with.” She pointed back toward the door. “What the hell happened to him?”

Tristan let out a harsh sound, something between a laugh and a scoff. “Rose. Things. Have. Changed. People change. He hurt you, and you’re asking what’s wrong with him? In what world do you think he deserves even another second of your attention?”

She folded her arms. He was right. She kept expecting things to be the same, but they weren’t. It was a fool’s wish. Xavier had gone through so much in the past year—things she couldn’t imagine.

“What if I told you you were right? I shouldn’t have gone to see him.”

“So why did you?”

“I thought I saw something,” she snapped.

She took a deep breath as she started again, this time calmer.

“When I was away last year, I helped in the medic tents when troops came through Canteran. I saw what war did to the men who survived. I can’t describe it, but it was like they were bleeding internally.

I did everything I could to help them physically, but they still couldn’t recover.

To everyone else, they seemed fine, but when I looked into their eyes…

they were drowning.” She looked off at the distant shore.

“Last night on the beach, I thought I saw the same thing in Xavier. I thought he just needed someone to see if he was bleeding. But I was wrong… It was na?ve of me.”

His expression eased with understanding. “I know you feel like this is your fault, but this has nothing to do with you. He wanted to hurt you because he was angry at me . If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I provoked him at dinner.”

“Then why do I feel horrible?” she said quietly.

Tristan’s anger disintegrated into nothing, his voice softening. “Because you’re an amazing person who only wants to see the good in people, no matter how undeserving they may be.” His hand slipped into her fragile one. “He’s only been banished, Rose, not hung.”

A pause fell over them as she peered at their intertwined hands. “So what happens now? When will they have the open ceremony?”

“Tonight.”

Her eyes bolted upward. “So soon?”

“They are eager to have a successor. ‘There must always be an heir,’ remember?”

She looked out again, biting her lip. That meant tonight, the council and the king’s kin would all rally together to nominate and announce their four chosen candidates for the throne. After that, the candidates would have to participate in three challenges, just like Xavier had eight years ago.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Tristan said.

Her eyes grew with understanding. Tristan could become the next king of Cathan. With nominations and backing from both the council and his father, Tristan would have a high probability of winning. Of course, there would be others to challenge him, but he’d have a strong advantage.

“After this is over, I’ll finally be able to marry you,” he said, leaning his forehead to hers.

A tingling sensation coursed through her limbs as the blood surged from her heart. Countless times, she had wished for the moment when they could finally be together, but she hadn’t allowed herself to believe it was possible. But here it was, close enough to touch.

A smile crept onto her lips. “I thought you were talking about being king.”

Tristan returned the smile and shook his head. His hand gently grazed her cheek while the other slipped around her waist, pressing her into his chest. “No… No, I don’t give a damn about that.”

Her eyes closed, savoring the words as his breath brushed her face.

When she opened her eyes, his gaze had dropped to her bandage. His smile faded the longer he looked at it. “Does it still hurt?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Yes. Yes, it did hurt. As a matter of fact, it throbbed with every heartbeat.

“A little.”

He cringed, then his eyes hardened. “I need you to promise you won’t see him again.”

An image of Xavier’s pitiful figure in the dungeons flashed in her mind. There would be no reason to, so she saw no harm in saying, “I promise.”

Tristan gave a relieved nod. “Come on.” He slid his hand into hers. “Your mother will be wondering where you are.”