My smile falls, that ever-present exhaustion beginning to dig its claws into me, pulling me beneath the surface again. “But I do not want a throne.”
“What about the Mage Kingdom?”
I chew on my lower lip, shrugging a single shoulder. “It belongs tohim.”
Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen: Rhea
“Areyounervous?”Thequestion comes from Erica, her hands gentle as she brushes my hair. With Eve gone, Erica has been tasked with helping me dress when the king wants to show me off. Yesterday had been tea with the ladies of the court, their judgmental sneers and thinly veiled gibes rolling off of me easily.After all, what could words hope to accomplish against someone who is tired of fighting anyway?
“I’m nervous that people will get hurt,” I answer, watching her face in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Avoiding my own eyes.
“They know the risks.” Erica, of course, knew about Xander and his resistance. Was a part of it, and would be instrumental in helping to get men and women inside the castle after the king’s death to help them overthrow the council and the guards loyal to King Dolian. “No one is being forced to do this.”
“I know.”
“In just a few hours, you will be gone from here,” she muses, setting the brush down on the vanity and lightly placing her hands on my shoulders. I had been given a corseted maroon gown to wear, the skirt flowing to my feet in a fabric too thin for winter. My shoulders are exposed beneath tiny straps, while long sleeves flutter down my arms. Were it any other time, were I in any other situation, I would love this dress. But, today, it feels more like an omen. A reminder of a different gown I had been forced into. Erica has no way of knowing that my plans have changed. That instead of chasing something that no longer exists, I’ve decided that the best thing I can do is disappear.
Distantly, the last reverb of an echo whispers that I’m wrong. That home is a pair of star-flecked eyes and strong hands, and that he’s waiting for me to return. But then it is silenced, and I’m turning to thank Erica for her help.
“I’m sorry I could not do more, Lady Rhea,” she says, her voice heavy with regret. She reaches out to gently grasp one of my hands. “If I could sneak you out of here myself, I would.”
My voice sounds raw, unused, when I respond, “You and Tienne helped me more than you could ever realize after Alexi was killed. Your kindness…” I swallow down the emotion that dares to sit heavy in my throat. “It was the first time anyonebesides him had ever offered it to me.” Tears crest her eyes as she nods her head, saying that Xander will be up to retrieve me within the hour.
Closing the door behind her, I walk to the bathroom and open the cupboard below the sink, sifting through the folded towels until I find the hidden diary. When Xander had given me Alexi’s journal, I had been insatiable reading the entries. It was lovely, getting to know my former guard in a way that I hadn’t yet seen. That he hadn’t been able to show me. He was a complicated man, but he also was the most selfless. The most endearing. A father to me when I had known none before.
My thumb caresses the worn leather as I take a seat on the bed, flipping through the pages until I reach the final entry. I had hoped that I could read it when I was back in the Mage Kingdom. I envisioned myself wrapped in Nox’s arms, his voice gentle as he gave life to the last words Alexi had written in this journal, the date only a month before he died. Closing my eyes, I let my shoulders slump at the vision. Gods, in another lifetime we could have been so very happy together. I had once thought that the love I felt for him was more than one existence should allow, and maybe that was a truer statement than I ever realized. But if this was all we would get together, then it would have to be enough. I would have to learn to let itfeellike enough.
A tear drips down onto the cover of the journal, and I brush it away before flipping to the last page, taking in his handwriting for the final time. At first, the entry details how it has been nearly two weeks since he last saw me, the ache in his chest similar to when he goes too long without visiting Alanna’s tombstone. He talks of the Cruel Death taking his friend, and his hatred once more for the king. But it’s what he’s written at the end of the entry that disrupts my heart, a breath lodging in my throat.
Perhaps now is as good a time as any to give this to Rhea, yet I still do not know if it will harm or hinder. Would she long for them more by having this portrait? Or would it soothe a part of her to be able to look upon them whenever she wants? I hope I can figure it out by her birthday.
I turn the page to read more, finding only one sentence remaining and a detached, thick piece of paper, the edges bent and ragged.
She is the best thing to happen to me outside of Alanna.
My fingers tremble as they reach for the paper, and when I turn it over, a crestfallen whimper—one forged in my loneliness and shaped by my desolation—tumbles from me as I stare down at a perfectly painted, highly detailed portrait of a couple standing side by side, crowns sparkling on their heads and fine clothes tailored to their bodies. His hair is medium brown and cut short, a few errant strands dangling over his forehead in a way that defies what I’ve come to believe about mortal royalty. He doesn’t smile; instead, a far too serious look is depicted, as if to combat the aforementioned rebelling of his hair. Next to him, the woman stands tall, her hands crossed in front of her. But where the king’s expression is regal, a slight smile shapes hers. Bright green eyes glow, even just on paper, and her hair—that familiar honeyed golden blonde—is left loose to drape down her back in soft waves.
Beneath their portraits, written in cursive script, are their names: King Conrad Maxwell and Queen Luna Maxwell. My parents.
The knock on the door comes far too soon, and I quickly hide Alexi’s journal again, hopeful that in the chaotic aftermath of what is about to happen, I’ll be able to retrieve it once again. Theportrait, however, I tuck into a layer of my bralette, ripping a seam and slipping the picture between the lace and the fabric it covers. Righting my dress, I open the door, reviewing Xander’s plan in my mind, only for everything to halt when it’s Simon and not my cousin standing in the hallway. The king’s advisor has his hands clasped behind him, his dark gaze running over the length of me in that assessing manner that draws me right back to those nights beneath his blade, reality blending with the horror of my mind.
Simon grins, a cruel thing, as if he is reliving the torture too. “Lady Rhea, I have come to escort you to the carriage.”
“What of Xander?” I ask, my stomach sinking when I don’t see any other guard waiting in the hall.
Simon’s brow arches, his head tilting in calculation. “Careful, Lady, asking for a specific guard might give the impression that you two have grownfond.”
“The commander is always the one to escort me,” I answer, begging my voice to stay steady. “I am only asking for clarity. Nothing more.”
Simon purses his lips as if he can taste my lie. Stepping back, he gestures for me to exit, and I have no choice but to move.
“Do you want to know why I haven’t paid you a visit in some time, Lady Rhea?” His voice is low, but the fact that he has the audacity to ask such a question in a public place has my eyes darting to see if anyone is nearby. Unfortunately for me, this floor is empty of everything except the sound of our steps. When I don’t answer him, he hums, as if my response is expected. “It is because Iknowthat you are hiding something. Secrets have a tendency to grow over time, and I have a feeling the ones inside of you are justburstingat the seams.” Fear creeps down my spine and over my limbs until I’m nearly paralyzed with it. “You, Lady Rhea, may have everyone fooled that you are submitting to the king, but I’veseenthe defiance in you. I’ve watched it spillout of you like a crimson wave, begging to be studied. To bedissected.” We descend the stairs, my heart racing as my hands grow clammy.
“Iwillfind out what you’re hiding, and when I’ve got the information I need, I will go to the king and watch as he makes you tell himeverything. Together, we’ll finally strip that last layer of armor you try to hide behind.” Another flash of that wicked smile and then, “Maybe the mage king can even help us.”
My eyes widen and though I don’t speak a word, Simon reads the question on my face anyway.
“Oh, patheticgirl. I know Xander has given you information on the Mage Kingdom. He is, of course, the one who receives Stephan’s letters. At least,someof them.”
