“I have no title here.”
Xander chuckles, the sound relaying his frustration. “Were your parents not the former king and queen? Are you not the heir to the Mortal Kingdom’s throne?”
I meet his exasperation with my own. “Am I not under the control of an uncle who wants to marry me? One who has beaten and tortured me so often that I—” I blow out a breath through clenched teeth, settling my emotions. I cannot afford to be baited into a conversation that might be used against me. “Surely, debating the merits of my supposed title is not why you wanted to speak with me.”
We round a corner, the gray stone walls adorned with black sconces, their flames not yet lit.
“No, it isn’t.” Yet he offers nothing else as we continue on in silence, my apprehension with the guard building as we eventually near the door to my room.
“Well, this has been a strange—”
“I’m sorry.”
My mouth snaps shut while my gaze lands on his, assessing the tone of his words. They aren’t said with anger or sarcasm but with genuine regret. Confusion spikes within me as I stop walking and turn to face him fully.
“My apology will never be enough to offer you. For all you’ve been through, for all I—I’ve allowed,” he stammers, drawing a hand down his face before tucking a strand of his onyx hair behind his ear. “But it is owed to you all the same. As is my offer to help you now. It doesn’t change what happened before, but I have no intention of watching you suffer the same fate again, and I’ve made too many promises to those I care about to break them.” His eyes drift away from mine, but I only have one response to everything he’s said.
“Why? Why would you expect me to believe that you just want to help me afteryearsof doing nothing.”
“I don’t, and I’m glad to see that what I’ve been told about your intelligence is true.” I scowl at that, watching as Xander reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small book, its cover bound with black leather. “But I’m going to give you two thingsthat I hope might sway you into, at the very least, believing that my interests lie solely in what is best for the Mortal Kingdom and its people. Not the ones that prance about the castle, but the workers and servants. Those who live and breathe our shops and goods in Vitour and beyond.” He checks once more over his shoulder, ensuring that we are alone before he lowers his voice. “There is a revolution brewing, both within the castle walls and beyond. One built on the backs of those workers and servants.”
My heart leaps to my throat as I stare at him. “They wish to see King Dolian removed from the throne?” He nods. “How do you know this?”
At that, his façade breaks just enough for the smallest uptick of his lips to creep through. “Because I am leading it. And please know that me telling you this is no small feat,” he says, likely reading my stunned unease. “If you go to the king with this information, if he suspects any movement at all against him, more than just my life will be on the line. Years of preparation, of building and planning and bowing to a king I do not consider mine, will be undone.” There’s nothing but truth in his gaze, and perhaps it makes me foolish, but I find that I believe every word he says. That Iwantto.
Still, I doubt Xander bringing up my claim to the mortal throne earlier is coincidental. “I will not be used as a pawn in your rebellion,” I tell him, measuring my words carefully. “I may be the rightful heir, but I do not want to rulehere. And as long as this ring is on me, I cannot wield my magic as my own.”
His posture relaxes slightly, his thumb dragging across the soft black leather of the book still in his hand. “I tell you about the rebellion only so that you have something to use as collateral, to prove that we have equal footing. Beyond that, it would be my preference that you leave here as soon as possible. Your power, what you did at the beach…” He trails off, shaking his head incredulously. Guilt and sadness crackle in the airaround me, threatening to pull me under again. “I don’t mean it as an insult, but that sort of power should only be wielded by those who understand the weight of having it. Who understand the consequences of using it. King Dolian isn’t that person.”
“And you believe me to be?”
Xander tilts his head as he appraises me. “I do.”
It shouldn’t matter, the approval of this guard, but something in me warms at his answer. At how he gave it without hesitation. I eye the book again, gesturing to it with my hand. “I assume this is the second thing?”
“It is.” He places the book in my hands, a gentleness in the exchange that makes me hold it a little more carefully.
“What is it?” I ask, inspecting the outside but finding it void of any title or words.
Xander takes a small step away, his hand returning to the hilt of his sword. “His death haunts me nearly every single night.” Breath rushes from my lungs, a sharp tension snapping into place between us. “As does the image of you cradling his head in your lap, his blood pooled around your body.”
I look away, squeezing my eyes shut.
“After we retrieved his body, I was tasked with going back to his room at the barracks to clean it out. I found that tucked beneath the mattress and the frame of his bed.” My eyes whirl back to Xander. “That is his personal journal, and I thought you should be the one to have it.”
Chapter Twenty-Five: Kai
Doyouhaveanyidea how often I come with your name slipping past my lips?
I groan at the memory of those words, of how she felt in my hands when she uttered them. My hips rock as I pump my cock faster, a poor attempt at recreating the night we claimed each other for the first time.
The hot water of the shower pricks at my back like a million little darts, but the sensation is lost to the images that play in my mind. Thathaveplayed in my mind since the moment she left. Her light brown skin gleams beneath the glow of a flame gem, those wild curls begging for me to dig my fingers into them. To wrap them around my fist and tug until her neck—her body, hereverything—is bared to me.Onlyto me.
You won’t stay out of my fucking head.
I know the feeling of that all too fucking well. To think of Bahira is to subject myself to the greatest pleasure, evidenced by the need to work out my lust in the shower first thing in the morning. I have never met a female who inspired such crazeddesire within me—one who made me ache for her nearly as often as she spiked my anger. One whose mind was the most beautiful part of her, despite the way her body might as well have been crafted from my very dreams.
My stomach muscles clench as I move my hand faster.
