He hums in thought, his chest rumbling under my ear. “Look, you can wake up in the morning and realize that you’re still mad at me.”
“Oh, I am. I’m angry as hell. What I said is that you’re making it difficult not to be.”
“Understood. My point is that you can go through the motions with me. Anger, murderous intent, lust.” I slap him on the chest, and he chuckles. “They’re all valid and I’ll still be here building up your trust in me again.”
My feelings for Kyron are far from simple. Family, duty, war—it’s a mixture of overly complicated and an extreme mess. It won’t be easy, and everything is far from resolved between us. His actions had dire implications for the trust I put in him. It’s going to take some time to get over that.
However, tonight was the first step in mending our relationship. For the first time in a long time, I have a little hope that fixing us is possible.
Twelve
Three loud bangs come from the door and a booming voice says, “This is your wake-up call, Your Grace.”
I dart up and my eyes spring open. Searing pain rushes through my pounding head, and I hiss as I bring my palms to my temples. It feels like a thousand horses trampled on my head and it makes my stomach do somersaults. I take deep breaths to get the upper hand over my angry body.
After minutes of enduring the thrumming in my head, I inch my eyes open. The black curtains over the window sit slightly separated, giving me a clear view of the dim stars in the dusty violet sky. I groan. The last time I was up before dawn was one of the many sleepless nights I had after Kyron left.
I pat the mattress beside me, only to find it empty and cool. With a gravelly voice, I call for Kyron, but the room remains quiet.
A thousand terrible thoughts run through my head. All of them revolve around him realizing that last night was a mistake. Not only was I drunk, but our purpose for being at Basecamp has nothing to do with us. We should focus on the threat at hand, but we found ourselves wrapped up in our broken love life. It didn’t feel as broken by the end of the night. In fact, it felt like we were on the mend.
“Shit,” I whisper, running my palm over my face.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts, readying for the rejection to come. I promised Micah and my father that I wasn’t coming here for Kyron, that he wouldn’t be a distraction. This is an epic failure on my part.
I lift my head from my hand and look back at where I last saw him. A folded piece of paper rests on the pillow. It looks so ominous, like it holds a terrible truth. My hands tremble as I pick it up, anticipating a confession of his regret.
The tea on the table will help your head and stomach.
A cup of tea? That has to be a good sign. If he was regretting what happened, he wouldn’t be leaving me remedies for my hangover.
I get to my feet and step outside of the room. Kyron’s jacket is gone from where it laid over the back of the chair and his boots no longer sit in front of the low fire burning in the hearth. On the breakfast table rests a teakettle, a plate of toast and jam, and another folded piece of paper.
I open the note with less fear than before and read:
Drink the tea and go soak in the tub. I filled it with oils and steaming water that will relax you. Hurry before it gets cold.
With a smile, I pour the tea into the simple white mug waiting next to the kettle. As I sip the concoction of herbs, I make my way to the washroom. The tub is filled with warm water that smells like mint and eucalyptus. Another note awaits me tucked behind the mirror.
I remove my tunic and undergarments, grab the next letter and sink into the water.
Today is the start of our legacy as our kingdoms’ future rulers. You and I will heal our land and strengthen our people. We will break all the rules and rewrite them. And we will do it together.
More importantly, I begin my journey of earning back your full trust. I look forward to doing that.
Yoursuntil my dying breath,
Kyron
P.S. I had your luggage brought to our room.
I press the paper to my wet skin and sink into the water. Maybe I shouldn’t let written words affect me so much, especially when they’re written by someone my kingdom sees as my enemy. All the same, the weight of the world slides off my shoulders like the droplets traveling down the planes of my body. If Kyron says he is dedicated to forging something new between our kingdoms, I believe him.
This is the manifestation of the dream Micah had for me when he placed a crown upon my head. The expectation always felt unattainable. How was I—a girl not born to rule and with dormant power going to bring Pliris back together? I’m still unsure of the answer, but this is no longer my burden to carry alone. Kyron and I are fighting for the same outcome. We want a people and land that are united. And we will make it happen while standing side by side.
With my spirits lifted and my hangover nothing more than a dull ache, I climb out of the tub. Like Kyron said, my luggage is next to the closet, waiting for me to unpack it. I remove another pair of the black leather pants that fit like a second skin and one of the many white tunics that are part of my new uniform. I pull the soft, thin linen over my head and unlace the neckline, letting it plunge deeper than what some would consider decent. I’m already uncomfortable in the clothes that make me stand out. The least I can do is make sure I don’t feel claustrophobic in them as well.
I secure my sword to my side, shimmy into my red jacket, and grab a slice of toast with jam before leaving my room.
