Page 17 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

T he longest day of Rose’s life came to a close as she made her way back to her room. Her mother offered to join her, but she persuaded her that the two guards stationed down the hall would be enough to safely return her to her chambers.

She yawned as she closed the door to her room. It was dimly lit by flickering candles, left clean and tidy; Thea must have already made her rounds.

She removed her shoes, unfastened her dress, and tossed it aside. She reached for her nightgown, hanging neatly on the chair by her vanity. After that, she lifted her hands to her hair, carefully taking out the pins from her updo.

On her way to bed, a cool draft floated over her. She turned to find the balcony doors slightly cracked open.

Strange. I wonder if Thea forgot to shut them.

She closed the double doors, pain throbbing in her neck from the motion. She massaged it, realizing she hadn’t changed her bandage.

She retraced her steps to her vanity, removing the old bandage and cleaning her wound with a wet cloth before reapplying the healing oil. She looked back into the mirror—this time, her reflection wasn’t the only one she saw.

She spun to confront the intruder, but before a scream could escape her lips, a rough hand smothered the sound.

This was it. This was how she would meet her end—a stranger taking her life out of resentment for being nominated for the succession.

The icy-blue eyes were a dead giveaway.

Xavier.

Her eyes widened. What was he doing here? How did he get inside? Was he here to seek revenge on the girl who took the throne from him?

She fought to break free, but he held her firm. “Don’t scream,” he said. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

She held still, considering running, but she’d never make it. She could go for the hidden sword she kept stowed away under her bed, but she’d never reach it in time.

Slowly, he removed his hand from her mouth. She didn’t scream, even though every bone inside her wanted to.

Xavier was cleaned up now, dressed in a black cloak that covered him from head to toe, with warm furs lining the thick fabric. Though his eyes were tired, he seemed sober and restored to his former self.

After the shock wore off, she wrapped her arms around herself, the air still chilly from the draft. “How’d you get in?”

Xavier eyed the double doors leading to the balcony. “I thought it was obvious.”

She followed his gaze. Of course—she should have known. He’d often scaled the walls up to her room when they were children, a habit that earned him frequent scoldings from his mother.

“What do you want?” she asked, mustering a glare.

“I need to know why you requested me to be pardoned.”

She blinked. That was it? He had gone through all that effort to scale the castle walls to ask her a silly question? Among all the scenarios she had anticipated, she wasn’t prepared for that.

“What?” She raised her brows.

“I don’t have much time. The guards will notice I’m gone soon.

” He inched forward, distracting her as his citrus scent filled her nose, thrusting her back to that day by the river—when she’d been cradled in his arms with the warmth of his body against her mangled one.

His hands clenched so vigorously on the fabric of her dress that he nearly tore the garment in half.

“Why?” he demanded again, pulling her out of the memory.

“Because I still care about you,” she snapped.

Xavier’s body became still, staring at her like she’d just said something obscene.

“Is that all you came here for?”

He studied her for a long moment before softly saying, “You really are a fool, Rose.”

Her eyes narrowed— the nerve of him.

“Well, if that’s all you came to say, you can leave. Unless you came here to finish what you started on the beach.” The glow of the candles flickered across her face. “You’ll never get a better opportunity. If you want to kill me, you should do it now.”

“I wouldn’t,” Xavier bit back, at last a hint of humanity shining through.

“I could never in a million years truly hurt you. I only did it because I knew my father wouldn’t throw the succession if it were anyone else.

I made sure that scratch was shallow and nowhere near any place that would permanently harm you.

” His gaze flickered down the exposed wound.

His sincere response made her pause. Xavier was excellent with daggers and arrows. He never missed his target. If he wanted to inflict permanent damage, he could have. But she still didn’t understand one thing.

“Why would you want out of the succession?”

Xavier’s eyes built an invisible barrier to protect themselves. “Because… being here is just a painful reminder that I don’t deserve to be here at all.” His tormented gaze lowered to his leather gloves. “My father is right. I shouldn’t be king. I don’t deserve to be… Not anymore.”

Her heart softened. She couldn’t judge anyone who’d dealt with war—only left to imagine the horrors that would plague his mind and peace forever.

But it still didn’t change the fact that he’d used her.

“So cutting me open and running from your problems was your solution? To leave everything and everyone behind?”

He prowled to her, stopping only a breath away from her face as his savage eyes locked down on to hers. “Like you stayed a year ago? When we all had to stay and bear it while you left? What makes you exempt from the same fate?”

There it was. Just like Roman, Xavier was angry at her for not returning.

“It wasn’t my choice.” A half truth. “And besides, you made it clear you didn’t care if I stayed or left.”

“Of course I cared,” he hissed. He opened his mouth to continue, but he closed it again, shaking his head and dismissing it.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.

This is the last time you’ll see me. I don’t expect you to forgive me…

but I couldn’t leave without you knowing I would never truly hurt you. ”

Before she could even form a thought, he headed for the door.

She stared at the void he’d created, figuring out what to feel. But he was leaving in the next few seconds, and she didn’t want to have regrets. She cursed, knowing she couldn’t let them part like this. Not after all that they’d been through.

She finally jumped off the vanity chair to follow him. “Xavier, wait.”

He had barely grasped the latch when she placed her hand on top of his.

Xavier stiffened under her touch as he peered down at her hand over his. His eyes radiated pain—as though her touch hurt him. He turned slowly to face her, his hot breaths hitting her face.

With a look as strong as armor, she barreled past his invisible wall.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Xavier. And I’m sorry to break it to you, but everyone in this world will go on making them.

But that’s life ; if we don’t make mistakes and take risks, we’re not living.

Don’t punish yourself so harshly for past mistakes that you won’t live to make new ones… I know I won’t.”

The mask he wore slipped away, letting her catch a glimpse of his soul.

There was the man who’d spent late nights reading with her, quizzing her endlessly to prove who was smarter.

The man who’d looked up at the sky, found a constellation shaped like a rose, and proclaimed it hers.

It was as refreshing as plunging into icy water on a scorching day—shocking every pore, but also made her feel entirely alive.

His crisp breath brushed against her skin, slowly tucking her hair behind her ear. Her breaths became shallow as he tilted his head and whispered, “It’s good I’m leaving, because there is no way in hell I could stay and watch that bastard have you… Tristan better take damn good care of you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut. He said it like…

like she meant something to him. He’d never seen her as anything but a little sister—he’d said so himself.

But as she opened her eyes again to meet his, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever felt something…

more. Or if it was her teenage heart still grasping at straws.

Xavier leaned in, his lips nearly brushing hers as he spoke. “Goodbye, smart-ass,” he whispered.

Her heart halted at the sound of her old nickname on his lips.

It caught her so off guard, she couldn’t even form a sentence before he opened the door and left.

She stared at the door, silence ensuing. She should feel comforted by the fact that he’d come to see her, but all it had done was fill her with more questions.

Xavier had been angry at Tristan before he’d lost the crown. So what was it exactly that he was so angry about? What could be so grave as to merit all of this hate?

The more she thought about it, all roads led to Tristan—Xavier’s resentment, anger, and even his outbursts toward her seemed to be solely directed at his brother.

But Tristan claimed to have no idea why…

or did he? If so, what horrible act could Tristan have done to make Xavier willing to lose everything he’d once had?

She didn’t know. But what was more unnerving was the thought that perhaps she didn’t know Tristan as well as she’d thought she did.

“Goodbye, Xavier,” she whispered into the empty void.