Papa waits for me and Borin at the foot of the stairs leading to the sanctuary’s entrance. Grief is evident on his face, and his brown eyes are void of his zeal for life. The news of his best friend’s death is taking a toll on him.
Borin sent a messenger ahead of us to prepare Esmeray and my father. I hate that he had to hear about the death of his friend from someone other than family. He has spent over an hour by himself with no comfort from those who love him.
Taking a knee, my father bows his head. His fist pounds against his heart, and his voice is thick with emotion as he says, “Your Majesty.”
“Please rise,” I say with a trembling voice. My strong father shouldn’t take a knee for me. If anyone should show a sign of respect, it’s me.
Papa stands to his full height, and I fling myself into his arms. I don’t care about protocol or carrying myself like a queen. I hug him so tightly my muscles burn.
“I’m so sorry, Papa,” I cryagainst his shoulder.
“It’s all right. It will be all right,” he says, rubbing my back.
I find tranquility in his arms. It’s one of the safest places in the world. There is no good and evil, no duty, no one depending on me when I’m circled in his arms. I’m not a queen when he holds me. I’m just his daughter.
“I’m sorry you lost Micah, Papa,” says a small sad voice from behind me.
Ansley stares up at us with her hands clasped in front of her black dress. Her wild red curls frame her round, tear-stained face. I reach for her, and she wraps her small fingers around mine. We pull her into our embrace, and my mother joins us as does Rowan and Salone. My family clings to one another as we mourn the loss of our friend and king.
After kissing my mother, my father steps away from us and approaches Borin. He wraps his arms around Micah’s husband and the two exchange whispered words.
Movement across the sanctuary’s steps captures my attention. Kyron talks with the Stigian army’s general. He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. I can’t make out their words, but I can see the distress in Kyron’s expression. He lifts his gaze to mine and straightens his shoulders. As if to stop the general from saying more, he claps him on the shoulder and turns his face to the side so I can’t read his lips. The general spares me a glance, nods, and walks away.
Kyron shoves his hands in his pockets and strolls over to me and my family. Rowan shifts at my side, moving his body slightly in front of me. My younger brother is aware of our parah bond and how Kyron betrayed me and Lucent. The protective little shit thinks just because he is half a head taller than the prince that he can take him on. I clap my hand on his broad shoulder, a warning to calm down.
“What was that all about?” I ask Kyron.
“I’ll talk to you about it when you’re settled. It’s nothing you need to worry about right now,” he says.
“She’s the queen. Everything is her concern,” Rowan spits. His blue eyes bore into Kyron and his freckled face burns red.
My parah doesn’t so much as flinch at the way my brother speaks to him. He remains collected and says, “And I promise to tell her later.” He extends his hand in a show of peace. “I’m Kyron.”
“I know who you are, you’re the piece of shit that betrayed my sister.”
“Rowan…” I caution.
Leif walks up with Wel close behind. My best friend places a hand between Rowan’s shoulder blades, trying to steer him away. My brother shrugs him off and looks back at Kyron. “Touch her and I swear I will break each of your fingers and shove them down your throat.”
Kyron gives me a tight-lipped smile. “I don’t think your brother likes me.”
“He is hurt,” says a melodic voice from behind me. My mother steps forward, her blue eyes darting between Kyron and me. She doesn’t hold the same contempt for the prince that my brother does. Her lovely features are soft with a smile as she extends a pale, slender hand. “It has been a while, Kyron.”
My mother ran into Kyron several times over the years, including at the feast Micah threw when I returned to Lucent after sneaking off to join the army. She is familiar with him and the close friendship he has with my father.
“Yes, it has, ma’am. It’s good to see you again. I just wish it were under happier circumstances.”
“As do I, Your Grace.”
“Kyron,” my father says, stepping beside the prince.
“Abrum.”
My father pulls him into his arms and hugs him. I don’t miss the way Kyron fists the back of my father’s jacket, holding him tightly, or how every muscle in his shoulders relaxes when my father holds him in just as firm of a grip.
“He loved you, Kyron,” Papa whispers.
“I know.” Kyron’s back shudders as he presses his face to my father’s shoulder. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save him.”
