Page 99 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

T he king, Tristan, Roman, and Harriet surrounded the queen’s bed while Rose and her mother sat in the armchairs by the fireplace. Although Queen Lenna was asleep, her breaths remained a chore. Rose’s siren felt the strain within the queen’s heart, its weak beats diminishing each hour.

It ate her alive to know there was nothing she or any healer could do. This was a condition born from the body, beyond the reach of any known tonic. And if she had learned anything from her thorough studies, magic could only cure magic.

Sitting and taking on the emotions in the room was excruciating, especially from the king.

As if she needed powers to know he was dying inside, too.

The mere way he peered down at his wife’s sleeping body said it all.

The twinkle in his eye had been replaced with a relentless ache.

Rose couldn’t shut it out, no matter how hard she tried.

A form of torture for the monster she was.

Harriet kept stealing side glances at her, either in awe of her transformation or perhaps out of suspicion. Her dark hair fell like a curtain hiding her face, her usual spark overshadowed by her mother’s condition.

And Harriet wasn’t the only one who kept an eye on her.

Tristan’s gaze continued to sweep over her, only they were not quick, nervous glances like Harriet’s. They stayed on her for minutes at a time, once for so long that Roman let a piercing glare slip through. Tristan was oblivious, too focused on Rose to notice.

Unlike the others, Roman averted his gaze.

She knew it was for no other reason than being afraid he’d give himself away.

He was forced to ignore the aching bond tying them together like an invisible rope, knowing if either tried to sever it, it would be as painful as losing a limb.

Rose tried hard to follow his lead, but she was failing miserably, her eyes raking over him every so often.

Finally, Roman’s restraint broke as his golden eyes met hers.

Her siren stirred at the contact, wanting to get up and go to him. To wrap her arms around him and lay her head on his shoulder. To comfort him while she played with his hair.

Instead, she forced herself to remain seated. Her siren’s complaints ate at her patience.

All too soon, his eyes abandoned hers.

“Have you heard no word from him?” Roman asked, breaking the room’s silence. “He should be here.”

They all knew who he was talking about—Xavier.

The king dipped his head with grave eyes. “Not a word. I’ve sent three letters and two messengers to Amernth days ago, and still nothing.”

“That shouldn’t surprise anyone in this room,” Tristan retorted coldly, crouched over in his seat. “He’s never cared about this family.”

Harriet’s eyes narrowed. “How could you say that? You know it’s not true.”

“Then why has he not responded to our letters? Why isn’t he here?” Tristan asked.

“It’s not like he ever thought he’d be permitted to return,” Harriet snipped.

Tristan met Harriet’s stubbornness head on. “He doesn’t want to return. Even now, when clemency has been declared for the sake of our mother, he’s still choosing not to come home.”

“Why should he? You drove him out! Both of you did,” Harriet said, glancing between him and their father. Her icy-blue eyes cut to Rose. “ She’s the only reason he was banished in the first place. But you don’t mind—you get to be king after all.”

The jab made Rose’s eyes fall to the floor.

Tristan stood fuming, ready to retaliate alongside Roman, who prepared to rise to Rose’s defense, but the king saved him from exposing himself.

“Enough!” King Henrik bellowed.

Harriet jumped at her father’s rare yell.

“Have you all forgotten your sense of propriety?” the king rebuked in a dark tone, still holding his wife’s hand. “Your mother is dying, and all you can do is bicker amongst yourselves and blame those around you.”

Harriet’s eyes fell to the bed in shame, unable to hold his chiding gaze.

Rose’s gaze retreated to the dancing flames as she traced her fingers lightly over her collarbone. Harriet was right. It was her fault. At least a good part of it. Maybe more than she cared to admit. Her chest tightened as she dropped her hand.

“It’s getting late,” Harriet said after a moment, still sulking from the retribution of her father. Her gaze fell to her mother. “We should get some sleep… It may be the last night for a while.”

Rose looked at Roman, already dreading not sleeping next to him.

Tristan shifted to her and her mother. “I can escort you both back if you’d like?”

Roman sent another subtle glare at his brother.

Her mother saved the day. “Oh no, I couldn’t keep you any longer from Satin.” She faced his younger brother instead. “But Roman, would you be so kind as to escort us?”

“Of course,” Roman accepted in a controlled tone, doing a magnificent job of looking indifferent.

They all stood to go out but the king, who sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Rose asked softly.

He shook his heavy head, refusing to take his eyes off his queen. “No, not me. I’ll sleep here with my wife.”

Another ripple of heartache sliced through her.

“Come on,” Roman whispered over her shoulder. “Let’s give them time alone.”

Rose did her best to block his crippling pain as she followed Roman out, escaping the overpowering fog of sadness behind her.

She only had a fleeting moment of relief before a new energy slammed her. A blanched, thin-looking Satin stood staring at her in the middle of the corridor.

Rose fought not to gape too long. The happy, wide-eyed, innocent girl was gone without a trace, replaced with a tired, hard-shelled woman whose aura held nothing but contempt. The sharp expression reminded her of Satin’s mother.

Satin didn’t bother hiding her disgust as she inspected Rose, her eyes running over her in revulsion. “You’re back,” Satin whispered. Her eyes held Tristan accountable. “You didn’t tell me she was back.”

“I didn’t know. She just got here a few hours ago,” Tristan stated as his eyes clashed with hers.

Rose stepped forward. “He didn’t know. I just arrived. I came for the queen.” She regretted trying to make the situation better when Satin’s scowl deepened.

“No one bothered to tell me you’re a siren ,” Satin spat the word.

Her eyes ran over her again, like she’d just put the last puzzle piece together.

She turned to Tristan. “And you’re just going to let her come back?

Do you remember what her kind did to my family?

To my province? They nearly annihilated my people. ”

Tristan’s voice hardened. “She’s no danger to anyone here.”

But Tristan’s defense of her only fueled Satin’s anger.

“I won’t allow for it.” Satin whipped to the others for support. “She’s manipulating all of you. Especially you .” Her gaze ended on Tristan.

“She’s not manipulating anyone.” Roman’s voice lost all warmth as he folded his arms. “And this is her home just as much as yours.”

Tristan went to Satin’s side. “What are you doing up so late? You should be resting,” he said in a lower voice, but she waved him off.

“Tristan’s right,” Harriet said, joining them as she rubbed Satin’s back. “The stress isn’t good for the baby.”

Rose’s heart fell straight through the floor.

Baby?

Harriet hadn’t realized her mistake until it was too late. Her mouth parted in horror as her guilt-ridden eyes flung to Rose.

Rose’s hand went to her stomach in instinct. “You’re pregnant?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Satin lifted her chin as if in entitled victory. “Yes.”

And just like that, Rose found herself thrown right back onto the floor the night of the wedding. This couldn’t be happening. This was a cruel joke—a sick prank. It had to be. They’d barely been wed for a month.

Her wounded eyes sought refuge from the storm, looking to Tristan for confirmation.

Tristan glared at Harriet before guilt pulled his eyes to the floor, staring at it as his jaw locked until he found the courage to lift his eyes to meet Rose’s.

It was all the confirmation she needed.

A bubbling underground river of jealousy threatened to burst from the depths of Vallor, but she reined it in, aware everyone’s eyes were on her.

“Congratulations,” Rose finally managed to get out, blinking furiously, her voice nowhere near as strong as she intended it to be.

“I don’t want nor need your congratulations,” Satin replied.

Tristan grabbed Satin’s arm, spinning her away from Rose. “Satin,” he scolded in a harsh whisper.

Her mother stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Rose’s back.

“You have it, nonetheless. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse us.

I’m just exhausted, and Roman was about to escort us to our chambers.

Good to see you, Princess Satin,” she finished with a strained smile that faded quickly, leaving no room for a reply.

Her mother guided her down the corridor, with Roman at their heels.

Rose tossed her hood back on, not having the strength to look at Tristan again as she followed her mother.

She should have anticipated this. It was inevitable. This was what the treaty was for—to mix royal blood with royal blood. To intertwine the fates of their provinces forever.

But to happen so soon?

To have a child bonded Satin and Tristan in a sacred way Rose would never have with him.

Her siren lashed out in a fury, screeching an internal cry as her world quaked with rage. But she bottled the fury. Contained the scream that clawed to escape her lips.

She concentrated on her steps to keep her mind from dwelling on things it shouldn’t.

They arrived at her mother’s chambers first. Just as they reached the door, Rose asked in a low, dangerous voice, “Did you know?”

Her mother’s expression fell. She nodded in admittance. “Yes. I knew.”

Rose’s nails dug into her palms. “And you didn’t think to warn me? Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Any more secrets?” she asked icily.

Her mother’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I was going to tell you, but I’d only just told you about your father. I wanted to give you a little time to breathe before another bomb was thrown at you. I’m so sorry.”

Rose knew she was. Her siren could feel guilt streaming out of her mother like a waterfall. It made her feel worse for trying to blame her.

She didn’t want to say something she’d regret, so she settled on, “Good night, Mum,” then dismissed herself without waiting for a reply.

With her mind in a far-off place, muscle memory took over, leading her to her own room. Roman followed, feeling him staring at her back as she strode through the halls.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

She forced herself to nod as exhaustion finally hit her, drained by the emotions that forced themselves on her. “I’m fine.”

He cursed. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. I’m okay.”

With a few large strides, he caught up with her, taking her hand and rotating her to face him. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault you had to come back.”

Of course he’d look to blame himself for nothing he’d done.

“You don’t need to be sorry. I chose to come,” she reminded him, still not regretting her decision. “It just… caught me off guard, is all.”

More like knocked her right on her ass.

Tears threatened to rise.

She didn’t want to cry about it in front of him.

“I need a minute,” she said before she broke. “I’m going to go check on Onyx.”

She hooked a right, turning toward the stables instead of continuing straight.

He continued to follow, his voice careful as he said, “I don’t want you going off on your own.”

“I have my sword.”

“Are you sure?—”

“Please, Roman, I’m just asking for a minute,” Rose snapped, letting him know it wasn’t up for debate.

Before she could feel guilty for his hurt expression, she left.

He didn’t try to stop her this time.

It was as if Onyx had already known Rose would enter the stables with a tearstained face. He pressed his forehead against hers without uttering a word, his mind brushing against hers in a soft caress. She wrapped her arms around his large nose as she wept.

After she felt like she’d shed enough tears, she composed herself and dried her eyes with her cloak.

In an attempt to keep her hands busy, she fetched him food and water. Next, she took the initiative to retrieve the bristle brush and swept it over his large body, grateful for the solitude of such a simple task.

She was in the middle of brushing his back when he asked, Are you angry at your mother for keeping your true lineage from you?

Her strokes slowed as she considered the question.

“I should be,” she answered aloud. “I want to be. But now I’ve come into my full siren, I’ve discovered it makes me a powerful empath.

And I could… feel everything she felt, everything she had to go through alone.

She was barely nineteen when she had me.

She fought for me in a way her parents never fought for her.

No matter how mad I want to be, it’s hard to be because…

I understand her. How could I be so certain I wouldn’t do the same thing for my daughter if I were in her shoes? ”

Onyx gave her a knowing look. Still, it hurts all the same.

“Of course.” She stared at the brush as she grazed it across Onyx’s scarred abdomen.

“You know, I can’t help but wonder if… if I’d known…

maybe I would’ve chosen to do things differently.

” Her words faltered as she thought of what the royal family was like before she had disrupted their world.

How close they had been. How much happier they all were.

But if she had caused their divide, perhaps she could help mend it.

And she could start with where it all began.

“How fast do you think you could get me to Amernth?” she asked out of the blue.

We could be there in three days if we left now , Onyx replied.

She chewed her lip. Maybe—just maybe—it was enough time to reach Xavier.

She didn’t let herself wonder if she was seeking another escape from this place. Perhaps it was a fool’s errand, but she had to try.

“Do you even think we’d be able to find him?” Rose asked.

“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary,” a deep voice said from behind her.

Rose halted the brush mid-stroke, her fingers clenching around the handle with white knuckles, knowing that voice like the back of her hand she was staring at.

She let the brush slip off Onyx, forcing herself to turn to look toward the open gate of the stable.

“Xavier,” she whispered.

He took one look at her and swore. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.”