Page 3 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

N ot an hour later, Rose drank in every morsel of her second home as she and Tristan climbed one of the many mountainous staircases lined with a rich crimson runner.

“Did you miss it at all?” Tristan asked, observing her soft gaze. “Being here?”

She paused, daring to look back at his eager expression with a hint of sadness. “Every day,” she confessed.

They roamed the corridors as she re-familiarized herself with the castle’s splendor.

Domed windows let in plenty of sunlight to light their way as they trudged through curved corridors like ants in an endless maze.

Intricate ceilings rested high above them, adding detail through the countless arches.

Cathan’s sun symbol was engraved into each keystone they passed, brought over from the original castle structure that now lay overgrown in ruin.

The floor under her feet was so clean she could see her reflection shining back at her.

Their footsteps echoed on the smooth stone in comfortable silence, passing a few court members on their walk as her muscle memory led her through the halls.

Tristan shot her nervous glances now and again as if he were double-checking that she was real and not just a figment of his imagination.

If she was honest, she fought hard not to do the same.

At last, they reached her favorite part of the castle—a place where she used to spend hours upon hours.

The library.

It was just as she remembered: antique cathedral windows lined the west wall, with Cathan’s symbol hand-painted onto each panel. Books were neatly dusted and organized in alphabetical order. As usual, the library was empty around lunchtime.

The impressive collection of books covered a diverse range, including the history of Vallor, enchanted artifacts, herbology, and various magical creatures like dragons, sirens, and other beasts.

No one knew exactly why Cathan had retained so little magic within its borders after Argarion Atticus split Vallor into seven provinces.

Some speculated the land had lent its loyalties to those it favored, while others believed it was an equalization of power.

Magic was a fickle thing, she’d discovered, almost an entity of its own.

Rose approached one of the wooden bookshelves, running her fingertips over the spines.

A small, delighted smile crept onto her lips.

“Do you still read?” Tristan asked from behind her.

She kept her gaze on the books. “Not as much as I used to. I haven’t had the time or the luxury lately.”

“You always were the smartest of us,” he admitted. “Reciting phrases and quotes right out of a textbook. Our tutor favored you for it. I’d get so jealous that she let you leave before the rest of us.”

“Well, I was easy to love,” she teased, flipping her hair back over her shoulder with a small shrug. She froze, realizing what she’d said. She threw him an uneasy glance.

“Yes…” His longing eyes slid to catch hers. “Yes, you were.”

She swallowed hard, averting her gaze.

She spotted her favorite bench nestled in front of a large, golden-framed window.

The sun’s rays filtered through the dust swirling in the air onto the dark-green cushions—the precise ones she used to read on.

How she used to love looking out while she read, especially when it rained.

She had always found the pattering splashes on the glass a soothing comfort.

“I remember that night we went into an absolute panic not being able to find you,” Tristan recalled.

“We searched high and low, worried you’d gotten lost or hurt somewhere in the woods.

Until we realized we hadn’t checked in here.

” Tristan’s mouth slid up into a handsome smile.

“And there you were, right on that cushion. Book and mouth wide open, planted on it fast asleep.”

Her mouth mirrored his; she remembered all too well. “My mother was furious with me. I was forbidden from playing with you all for a week.”

“Little did she know I’d sneak into your room to keep you company.” His eyes lit with mischief.

“You even pillaged the kitchens to bring me food.”

“It was worth every minute of the hour it took to get that damn shortcake from the kitchen to your room without being noticed.” He gave a short laugh.

She raised her brows. “You brought me shortcake?” she asked, not recalling the small detail.

“It was your favorite, wasn’t it?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Unable to find her voice, she felt lost at sea in his eyes. “Yes,” she replied softly. “Still is.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, unable to hold his gaze any longer. She cleared her throat, disappearing between another set of bookshelves.

They weaved their way through the jungle of shelves, passing by the librarian, a short and stern woman who peered at them from behind spectacles as she wheeled a cart brimming with books to be sorted.

Rose offered a brief hello and a small smile before continuing through the walnut aisles.

Her fingers brushed against the spines again as if reconnecting with long-lost friends.

They had just paused before a tall cathedral window to admire the sea when Tristan spoke. “You look better,” he stated in a less formal tone. “Why’d you wait so long to come back?”

She fixed her eyes on the infinite blue horizon. “After my father’s death, my mother needed time away, and so did I.”

Tristan’s gaze bore into the side of her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if I ever got to say that to you.”

She strained to plaster a smile on her face. “Thank you. But you don’t need to be. We’re doing much better.”

“If I’d known sooner that he’d passed, I would’ve come to you.”

Her heart swelled at the sheer tenderness of his voice.

“You were needed here. But I appreciate your thoughts all the same.” She changed the subject, continuing through the shelves.

She did not want to delve into that bag of worms today.

“Your father must be so relieved about the peace treaty… I still can’t believe Roman’s a general. ”

“Not just a general. The general over all of Cathan’s armies.” His eyes glowed with pride. “The youngest Cathan has ever seen.”

“I know it’s been a long time, but I still feel so frightened for him.” She kept picturing her younger best friend running toward her with a frog in hand and a bright smile.

Tristan’s kind expression made her weak in the knees. She’d forgotten how small she felt to be pinned under his gaze. “You underestimate him. He’s become one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. I wish I could’ve joined him, but my father wanted me here.”

“Xavier seems more distant. How is he?” she asked.

Tristan scowled at the sound of his name. “You’ll find that, like Roman, Xavier has also changed, but not for the better.”

Her eyes shifted to meet his in alarm. “Why? What’s happened?”

Tristan’s gaze lowered. “It’s a story for another time.

” He dismissed the question as if shaking off a bad memory.

“But Xavier’s mistakes have cost Cathan dearly.

Nowadays, he ignores his duties, drinks far too much, and disappears completely for days at a time.

I’m starting to wonder what my father will do with him. ”

She stopped walking as they settled in a quiet, deserted aisle. “You don’t mean they’re thinking of stripping him of his succession?” she asked in disbelief.

Tristan shrugged, looking perfectly unsympathetic. “I can’t be certain, but if my father challenges it, it’ll be up to him and the council to decide.”

“Would he do that?” She didn’t want to believe the king had lost hope.

“You know Xavier; he’s always been so… grounded.

” Dare she say almost to a fault. He was a stickler when it came to obeying rules and orders.

Always the voice of reason. Always the protector.

Territory, she imagined, he’d gained by being two years older than Rose and Tristan.

“You’ve been gone longer than you think. If he continues like this… it’ll be a disaster.”

They couldn’t be talking about the same Xavier.

Not the one who’d spent all his time studying in this very library with her.

Not the Xavier who had given countless hours of youth to his father preparing for his duties.

Not the Xavier who had won his succession by nearly dying while climbing a treacherous mountainside.

“But who would be your father’s successor?” Before he could answer, she pieced the puzzle together, her eyes widening. If Xavier were denounced, a new succession period would be forced open. “Does that mean you could be…”

“The next king of Cathan?” Tristan finished her sentence, neither looking happy nor sad about the fact. “Yes. But to be honest, it’s a slim chance. Remember, there are many great Houses who could easily have a chance at the throne.”

Her thoughts drifted as she looked through the sunny haze streaming from the window, shining on a volume of books.

Never had she had a single reservation that Xavier would be the next king.

The calmness he projected and the faith he instilled in others came as naturally to him as breathing.

He’d always held himself to a higher standard because of it.

She came out of her daze, looking back at Tristan, his eyes already on her.

His face finally broke composure. “Hell, I’ve missed you.” He lifted his hand to brush the hair out of her face.

Her pounding heart soared. “Nonsense.” She tried to keep her voice light. “I’m sure you’ve been too busy to think of me.”

“You can’t be serious,” he said in a sharp whisper.

“Ever since you left, there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about you.

When you didn’t respond to my letters… I was afraid you’d moved on.

” He stepped forward, standing so close, his heavenly scent filled her lungs while his hand slid smoothly into hers.

She gazed at their entwined hands. How she could still feel so strongly for him was strange.

After such a long time apart, she thought maybe her feelings would fizzle out.

But they hadn’t. It was like they’d lost no time at all—nothing had changed.

An invisible thread pulled at her, bringing her closer to him.

Tristan lifted her chin so she had to look him in the eye.

“I keep thinking about our last conversation before you left. I know you chose to leave because of the present circumstances, but we have to have it out, Rose. After all this time, you being here in front of me solidifies that I’m still in love with you. I never stopped loving you.”

Her heart ached. The hope that he felt the same way had seemed slim to none. She’d told herself it would be foolish to believe he could still feel the same—that it was only wishful thinking. But here he was, standing before her as if none of that mattered.

It was enough to make the veins in her body burn to ash.

“I was afraid after I left… I wasn’t sure if you hated me,” she admitted softly.

“Are you mad?” He looked at her as if she were insane.

“Did you not read anything I said in my letters? Begging you to come back?” His lips hovered close to hers, so close she was sure he would kiss her.

Instead, the breath of his words brushed her skin.

“You couldn’t push me away even if you wanted to. ”

She looked back at him as longing poured out from her soul. She wasn’t prepared for this—for the tug at her heart to be stronger than when she’d left, for the aching hole to be just as deep as before.

“Please.” His hands slid up the back of her neck into her hair. “Promise me you won’t leave again.”

She wrapped her hand around his wrist. “I wish I could, but you know things still haven’t changed.”

“But don’t you see? This could change everything.

” Hope gleamed in his eye. “It won’t matter if Xavier is married or not.

And if I do become king, I will need to marry.

My father will want it done quickly. He adores you.

He’d approve the match, I’m sure of it. I could be the strongest leader this province has ever seen with you by my side. ”

“And if you don’t become king?”

He hesitated, a small smile gracing his lips as he stepped into the sunlight, lightening his blond hair. “Then I’ll marry you anyway, and I won’t have to be away from you for a single moment.”

Her lips cracked upward. Despite this “plan” he had for them, things could easily go awry. With all his endearing qualities, Tristan was also hasty, stubborn, and impulsive; she didn’t want him blindsided by false pretenses. If either of them let their hearts take over, they’d both end up hurt.

Again.

Despite this, her body took over, closing the gap between them. Her arms interlocked around his neck, hugging him as she whispered into his ear, “I missed you, too.”

Tristan quickly recovered from the sudden gesture, wrapping his strong arms around her, pressing her firmly into his chest, and cradling her like she meant the world to him.

The distant sound of someone calling out interrupted them.

“Tristan? Rose? Where are you?” Harriet’s voice carried through the library, growing closer.

Rose let go of Tristan, smoothing her dress as she peeked through the books. If Harriet caught them embracing, the news would be all over the castle before you could say the word gossip .

Tristan looked at her intently. “I want to spend as much time as possible with you this season,” he whispered.

“Won’t your father be concerned we’re getting too attached?” With Xavier still unwed, she didn’t know if he’d frown upon it.

“Do you honestly think I care?” Tristan dismissed with a raised eyebrow.

Her lips curled into a radiant smile.

“There you are,” Harriet huffed, her petite frame coming into view at the end of the aisle. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?” Her eyes narrowed at the two.

“No,” Tristan said quickly. “Sorry, Harriet. We’ve been catching up.”

Harriet’s face grew into a smile as if she’d just discovered something that pleased her. “Mother sent me to fetch you.” Before Tristan could retort, she added, “Oh, don’t give me that look. You’ll have plenty of time with her later.”

Tristan let out an irritated huff. “I’ll see you at dinner?” he said to Rose.

“See you at dinner,” she reassured him.

Tristan hesitated, as if he were worried that if he left, she’d vanish again. He gave her one last look before he was finally forced to follow Harriet down the aisle and toward the door.

She ventured deeper into the shelves in the opposite direction, absent-mindedly twirling her hair with her fingers while getting blissfully lost. She bit down on her lower lip—a sheepish smile on her lips.

And she wouldn’t be rid of it for a long while.