Three gentle knocks ring out on my door. “I’ll be out in a minute,” I shout.
“Better hurry. The king’s meeting with the council is finishing up,” Anderson answers back.
Groaning, I stand and grip the towel around my waist, running a hand through my damp hair as I push the strands back from my face. My room at the barracks is the same as every other guard’s, despite the fact that they call me their commander. But even if my father hadn’t forced me to stay here from the momentI joined as his guard, I still would have chosen it. I may have been the commander, but to the majority of the men here, I am just Xander. And when they think I’m just like them, they are more willing to talk in my presence. Or, at the very least, not mince words when I’m near.
Heading to my closet, I grab my clothes and begin to dress, mapping out my day based on what I know about the king’s. He has been conversing a lot with his council lately and entertaining Queen Amari’s calls through the Mirror. I had thought it strange that he was so willing to talk with her when he had already gotten Rhea under his thumb. The ring Rhea wears puts her at the mercy of not only the king but the siren queen as well, and in our brief conversation as I escorted her back to her rooms from the tower, she explained that King Dolian canalsobe controlled by Queen Amari. Admittedly, I had begun to suspect that was the case and had intended to ask Rhea about it, but her decline over the past month had motivated her to keep me at arm’s length. After learning about King Nox’s supposed betrothal to another woman, after bargaining for Eve to have time at home, aftereverythingmy cousin has been through, I can’t exactly blame her for not wanting to speak toanyoneabout… well,anything.
I reach for my armor where it’s resting on a stand, buckling the cuirass on first before moving on to the pauldrons. My movements are ingrained in my head, automatic after years of repetition. Strapping my sword to my hip comes last, and then I step into the bathroom to look in the mirror, checking that everything is in place. I run my gaze over the horrible golden armor, hopeful for the day when King Dolian is finally dead and we can move on from the gaudy color. It may have been a Maxwell tradition, but if my father taught meanythingin my twenty-four years of life, it is that I have no interest in carrying on any tradition bearing his name.
I exhale roughly as I look at my reflection, almost all of the physical attributes of my face coming from my mother with the exception of the shape of my eyes and jaw. When I notice those, all I see is him. Unable to stop myself, I squat and tug on the bottom drawer of the vanity, lifting the small towel that is folded there to reveal the picture and book I’ve hidden. The picture is of my mother, a small portrait she had painted shortly before she died. I was only a boy then, unable to understand exactly what my mother was going through. What she was shielding me from, but it fucking hurts like hell to know that, even as she was sure her life was soon going to end, she thought of me. The tip of my finger caresses her long black hair, her smile soft as it stares back at me. Kissing the photo, I set it to the side as I eye the book.The Little Sun. Immediately, my mind flashes back to that cramped space in the dungeons and the white-haired female who made me question everything about myself. Whose wit and charm was only outdone by her steadfast loyalty. It was at her request that I grabbed this book from the tower, as it had been one of Rhea’s favorites. I had forgotten to grab it when preparing for her to leave, but selfishly, I am happy to have it with me now. To have the reminder of Siyala, even if a part of me aches to see it. To know that this is all I will have of her ever again.
Those three knocks sound on the door again, and I bite back the urge to rage at Anderson and instead slide the picture of my mother back over the book, laying the towel on top, and closing the drawer.
“You good?” he asks when I enter the hall, shutting the door behind me.
“Fine. Have you heard from Brisk?”
“He stopped by a little bit ago. Lady Rhea is in a fitting for her wedding dress,” he answers, voice low as he avoids using the fake moniker for Rhea created by the king.
I fight off the urge to shudder. If luck is on our side, Rhea will be free from King Dolian within a few days. It’s a plan that has taken weeks to formulate properly. To make sure that every angle we can control is covered. There can be no slip-ups, no mistakes. I am going to get Rhea out of here, and then, when my father is distracted by his rage at losing heragain, the resistance will strike. In less than a week, everything I have spent the majority of my life working towards will finally come to fruition.
“What is on the king’s schedule for today?”
“He wants you to meet him outside the council chambers, and I haven’t been able to find the reason why.” Gods, there could be a myriad of reasons why he would want to see me, none of them good. “From there, you’ve got to look over the last battalion that Lady Rhea healed and ensure everyone is still…”
“Alive?” I supply, watching as he bristles.
“Essentially.”
It is no secret that, while Anderson may believe that Rhea is someone we can trust, he’s convinced himself that Rhea’s magic is going to slowly kill all of those who have been touched by it, and as such, he has conveniently left himself out of the battalions she’s healed so far. “I may not understand Rhea’s magic, but I believe that her intent is not to hurt anyone with it.”
“Then why haven’t you had herhealyou?”
It’s a fair question, but the answer isn’t some secret. “I have no intention of leaving the kingdom and, therefore, no need to be able to do so.”
“Glad to see that is still the case because there are some—”
“I know,” I cut in, lowering my voice as the council chamber doors come into view, one of my men standing guard next to them.
Ever since learning that Rhea is not what my father had described—a reclusive woman debilitated by her own grief who abdicated the throne to him—she has been viewed as a threat tothe resistance. That is, until I got to know her. While most have come around to the belief that Rhea does not want to be queen of the Mortal Realm, a few still think of her as a package deal with King Dolian. Despite what I’ve told them, they only see how she is forced to act in public. How she’s docile, submissive,whatever the king wants her to be. It’s why I’m desperate to have her meet those who will help her escape not because they want to but because they are putting their trust in me. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly, but one I can’t be careless with either.
The resistance needs to talk to Rhea face to face to know that my cousin has no secret goals but to return to hertruehome with King Nox at her side. Assuming that the rumors of him betrothed to someone else are indeed false. I clench my jaw at the thought of someone hurting Rhea, of the man I knew as Flynn only using her until it was inconvenient for him. I want to believe that he cares about her as much as she clearly does for him, but if I’m being honest, I expected him to have come for her already. Enough time has passed for the seasons to change, and as far as I or my team know, the mage king hasn’t stepped foot in the Mortal Kingdom.
The door to the chambers open, and I straighten, Anderson at my side as we clasp our hands behind us. The council members file out, their faces betraying too many emotions to even begin to decipher what the fuck happened in this meeting. The king and Simon emerge last, the latter sending his beady-eyed gaze my way.
“It is a temporary problem, My King. Our numbers far outweigh theirs. As you say, patience is our finest ally and greatest strength. Let her show her hand now so we can respond appropriately when she least expects it.”
King Dolian acknowledges Simon with a nod before coming to stand in front of me, the disappointment coating the air between us nothing new. “You will visit the battalions Lady Nelehealed yesterday,” he says. I can’t help but wonder if the fake name is less about hiding her true identity and more about making himself believe that he isn’t actually attempting to marry his niece. My fingers wrap around the hilt of my sword as I dispel the nausea that rises at the thought.
“Of course, Your Majesty. Is Lady Nele scheduled to heal any more today?”
The king doesn’t answer right away, not as he leads us towards the castle wing designated for a royal’s betrothed. Rhea’s rooms are located deeper into the castle, but the rooms that line this corridor are intended for wedding preparation. He reaches for one of the door handles, and remembering what Anderson said Rhea was doing, I clear my throat.
“Isn’t this the seamstresses’ room?”
King Dolian’s brow lifts as he tilts his head in that menacing way that makes my skin crawl. “It is.”
“It’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.” It’s a shit attempt to keep him away from her, but as a line forms between his brows, I think for a moment that it might work. The chuckle that he answers with dashes that hope.
