Page 33 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

R ose felt like she’d just fallen asleep when warm yellow rays flooded through the window. She sat up slowly, wondering whether the knock she’d heard was real or just a figment of her imagination.

Another knock came.

“One moment,” she called sleepily.

She snatched a dress, threw it on, and went to unlock the door. As soon as she opened it, Tristan embraced her.

“He pulled through,” he said as his face buried into her hair. “We did it. He’s alive.”

She sighed in relief as she gripped him. “Thank the gods. I was so worried.”

“He wants to see you. He’s been asking ever since he woke… But first, how are you?” Tristan asked, his hands cupping her face as he searched her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she said, sliding her hand onto his wrist.

His thumb stroked her cheek tenderly. “I don’t believe you.”

Her gaze fell away from his. How was she supposed to explain how she’d sensed the danger at the ceremony?

It had all happened so fast. She’d barely caught a glimpse of the man’s face before the arrow flew.

Her eyes were sure it was Xavier, but her mind argued that it was impossible.

He had been so far away, so how could she be sure?

He had been banished and would be killed on sight if caught in Cathan.

It couldn’t have been him… or could it? The question created a whole new dread in her heart.

“What’s wrong?” Tristan asked, his brow pinching together at her hesitation.

“Nothing. Really. I’m just… trying to wrap my head around what happened yesterday.” She observed his sunken eyes. “How are you?” She reversed the question, placing her hand in his as he dropped them from her face.

Tristan relaxed at the touch. “Well, I’m alive, thanks to you and Roman. I still have no idea how you managed to see it. It was a miracle.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she said, looking down at his leg. “I should’ve said that already.”

“There’s been a lot going on.” He tucked her messy hair behind her ear, his voice becoming more raw. “You scared me yesterday with the phoenix; I thought it was burning you alive. I went to you, but Ingrid assured me you were okay.”

“She was right. I think it… it bonded us in a way.” Her eyes met his. “Have you told anyone?”

“No one except my father and Roman.”

Rose nodded, relieved. She was still trying to understand what had happened. She wanted to avoid raising suspicion, particularly with the high council. “Don’t tell anyone else, please. I don’t want anyone to worry more than they have to.”

Tristan’s gaze shifted to the sword resting beside her bed. “You… you’ve changed over the past year,” Tristan said, his eyes roaming over her. “How long have you been learning to fight?”

Her heart dropped. She’d forgotten he knew about her training. She hesitated to respond, not sure if he’d understand if she told him. But maybe… maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt. “When I was gone, my mother and I… we wanted to learn how to defend ourselves.”

His eyebrows raised. “That’s what you were doing while you were away? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because there were more important things going on.” Which was more or less true.

“And are you still training?”

“No,” she said. She hated lying to him, but she didn’t want him finding out that Zareb was involved.

Tristan folded his arms—his infamous stubbornness rearing its head. “Don’t play me for a fool. I’ve been around my fair share of soldiers, and you handled that sword like you had done it a million times. Who’s been teaching you?”

For some reason his tone made her walls go up. “I had a trainer before I came to the castle. But since then, I’ve been teaching myself. I go out in the woods and practice motions, that’s all.”

He nearly scoffed. “Don’t insult me. I’m not stupid. You’ve been lying to me, and you still are. What else aren’t you telling me?”

It was happening—the judgment, the misunderstanding. The very reason she hadn’t told him in the first place.

“Why is it so bad that I don’t want to always rely on others for help?” she asked, her voice matching his in defensiveness. “Why can’t I learn? Tell me, what is so wrong with that?”

Tristan pressed his lips into a fine line. “Nothing—the problem is you lied to me about it. You told me you were mourning your father, that you were broken beyond repair, and now I find out you were just playing fake soldier for an entire year?”

“I’m sorry, but don’t tell me you can’t see the benefit of me knowing how to defend myself.” Her spine straightened, not backing down. “Look how handy it came in the trial yesterday. How could I have done that if I hadn’t had the training?”

“What happens when a real enemy is on the other end of that blade?” Tristan asked, his hard gaze never leaving hers. “You might think you’re capable, but what happens when you take on more than you can handle? You’ll only be putting yourself in danger. You could get yourself hurt or even killed.”

“Right. So to you, I’m just looking for trouble,” she summarized.

The wheels in Tristan’s eyes turned as they narrowed. “Who’s been teaching you now? Is it someone here?”

She panicked. If the council discovered the truth, they might take their rage out on Zareb—strip him of his title or, heaven forbid, banish him like Xavier.

She may have the protection of the king and her name, but Zareb did not.

He had already been reluctant to train her.

If he was punished for helping her—she didn’t want to think of it.

Tristan’s face darkened at her hesitancy. “It’s Grant, isn’t it?”

Without thinking, she blurted out, “Maybe.”

Tristan’s warmth deviated into a cold stare. “I’ll find out soon enough for myself.”

She stilled. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. In fact—” he grabbed the sword, “—I’m taking this, since you won’t be needing it.”

She balled her hands into fists, her anger fully inflamed. “You know I can just get another one.”

“I don’t care. You’ll thank me later.”

She’d had enough. “I’m going to see Roman. Don’t follow me.”

“Rose—” Tristan called out.

But she had already slammed the door behind her.

The morning sun streamed through Roman’s balcony doors and onto his bed, giving the room a warmth that seemed fitting for his recovery.

It was gratefully empty except for Roman, of course, still lying in bed, now propped up by a mound of pillows stacked behind his back.

His brown hair was clean and free of sweat, and his skin had returned to its usual golden tone.

She couldn’t tell if he was pleased to see her as she walked in. His eyes locked on her with a different gaze than before—softer, less threatening. Even the way he shifted his body towards her was different, but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

“Rose,” he greeted hoarsely, attempting to sit up straighter.

“Hello,” she said with a faint smile, making an effort not to let her argument with Tristan affect her mood. “I’m surprised to find you here alone.” She stopped at the foot of his bed. “Where are the healers?”

“I sent them away,” he replied, with an irritated glare at the door. “I wanted to be alone.”

“Oh.” She gestured back to the door. “Should I come back later?”

“No,” he answered at once.

She raised an eyebrow. The corner of her mouth threatened to rise.

Roman’s eyes shifted as he realized his hastiness. “I mean, no, it’s fine.” He motioned to the chair beside him.

She settled into the upholstered seat. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He reclined back onto the pillows. “My father tells me I have you to thank for that. He said you spoke with the phoenix somehow and made a deal to save me.” His golden eyes carefully locked onto hers.

She couldn’t hold his gaze. “Yes, well, Tristan helped.”

An awkward silence fell before Roman said, “Where is he? I’m surprised he didn’t come with you.”

“I told him I wanted to come alone.”

He studied her as though he were searching for a hidden truth. “How are you always at the center of all of this?” he asked at last, not in his usual cold voice, but with a tone of genuine curiosity.

She inspected her intertwined hands, swallowing hard. “I’ve been asking myself the same question lately.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

He swallowed hard before his voice broke. “Save me.”

Her eyes finally raised to meet his, catching her off guard with the sincerity held there. “Because despite what you think of me, I would never let you die, especially after you had just risked your life to save Tristan… And despite recent events, I still honor the friendship we used to share.”

Her answer seemed to throw him. He resituated himself on the goose-feather pillows, looking away, as if he couldn’t handle the contact. “The man in the trees… How in Vallor did you see him?”

She did her best to keep her unease under wraps. “I don’t know. I was just looking out at the crowd when I saw him. You were the first person I could reach to warn.”

“And the man, did you see him ?”

Xavier’s face flashed in her mind. She considered telling Roman the truth, but if she accused Xavier and she was wrong, she’d be put under more scrutiny by the council. And if it was Xavier, he could be imprisoned or hanged. She had to be sure it was him, and right now, she couldn’t be certain.

“I didn’t get a good look at him.” It wasn’t totally a lie.

He accepted her answer with a nod. His attention shifted to the nightstand, his hands shaking as he tried to reach for a cup. Witnessing his struggle for control over his limbs was downright painful. “I don’t know why I’m still shaking so much,” he said bitterly.

“Here, let me,” she said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “May I?” She gestured to the cup.

He looked at her, hesitant, then gave a reluctant nod.

She poured hot water and added the herbs, well aware of Roman’s studious gaze watching her as if he were expecting to be poisoned again.

She let the tea steep. Once it had, she took his rough, calloused hand in hers, guiding it to the cup. She kept her hand over his until she was confident he had a secure hold of it.

Roman’s free hand caught her arm. “Thank you.” The warmth in his voice sent a shiver up her spine. It was the voice she remembered as a small girl—the caring, friendly, charismatic one that reminded her of her best friend.

Her body was still frozen from the foreign softness as she said, “You’re welcome.”

Roman swallowed hard. “Not just for the tea… Thank you for saving me. I know after some of the things I said to you… you could have very well been tempted to let me die.”

She nearly laughed at the idea, though the thought hadn’t once crossed her mind. “There was a fleeting moment when I thought it could be to my advantage,” she replied with a coy smile, taking the risk of teasing him.

Roman’s amber eyes sparked with a hint of warmth, and for a moment, she thought he might smile. But that was the most she got out of him. She could read from his uncertain expression that he hadn’t gained enough confidence to trust her fully.

But perhaps it was a start.

She leaned back. “Thank you for believing me,” she whispered, holding his gaze head-on. “I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t.”

Roman’s face twitched, as if accepting the realization that he had, in fact, trusted her in a way.

The expression instilled hope that she may yet have a redeeming quality in his eyes after all.

“I have a hard time trusting things I don’t understand.

” He swallowed hard again. “And you… you’re a glorified maze to me. ”

Her heart softened, her mouth parting to give him a map until?—

“Roman!” Beth called, swinging the door open.

Her head snapped away at the same time that Roman’s did, both of them watching as Beth’s long, yellow dress swayed behind her.

Rose stood from the edge of the bed, offering Beth a warm smile. But to her dismay, Beth’s eyes glazed right over her, fixating on only Roman.

A sinking sensation settled in her heart. It appeared as though her friendship with Beth had come to an abrupt end. Ever since she’d entered the succession, her friend had barely looked in her direction.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She’d never excelled in the art of making friends—well, friends among the girls in court.

In her younger years, she’d tried hard to get them to like her.

Countless times, she’d tried to reach out and befriend them.

Each time, it was fruitless, and it usually resulted in tears.

She’d hoped that maybe—just maybe—Beth was the exception.

But it seemed that, too, was a foolish notion.

“I’m so glad you’re finally looking better,” Beth said, perching on the edge of the bed as she slid her hand into Roman’s, coming in close.

Rose glanced between the two. The clear display of ownership all too obvious. She wanted to laugh. If only Beth knew how much Roman loathed her.

Roman, however, pulled his hand away from Beth’s. The withdrawal made Beth recoil with hurt eyes, but she regained her composure in a flash, sitting up straight and smoothing out her dress.

“Rose was just checking on me,” he said in a cool tone. “She saved my life.”

“Of course.” Beth recovered with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she acknowledged Rose’s presence for the first time. “It’s so lucky you happened to know the cure to such a rare poison.”

Rose recognized the suspicion in Beth’s tone. She looked her squarely in the eye. “Isn’t it?” she replied with a smile of her own. Dismissing her friend, she said to Roman, “Well, I can see you are in good hands; I’ll let you get some rest.”

He gave her a curt nod, still looking like he had more to say, but the medications had him still slightly disoriented, pinning him to his bed.

“Zareb is just outside waiting for you,” Beth called with a strained smile.

Rose left and closed the door behind her, pretending not to hear them bickering as she left. It seemed that she and Tristan weren’t the only ones to have troubles in paradise today.

When Rose saw Zareb, she knew exactly what she wanted to do.