He nods and the lines in his face grow deeper. “I need you to come home as well.”
“I know.”
It’s always been hard for me to accept Abrum’s love. He is the only father I’ve truly had for most of my life. My biological father lives as blurry memories in my head. The most vivid picture I have of him is the day I drained the life-force from his body. My young world shattered with that one act, and I believed myself unlovable. Abrum knew my sins, knew that I was damaged, and he never thought twice about treating me as his son. He taught me everything I needed to know to be a good man. I didn’t always meet his expectations, but his love for me never faltered. Not even when I betrayed his trust and broke his daughter’s heart. I’ll never forget the disappointment I saw on his face before he entered the catacombs to escape my mother. It almost broke me as much as hurting Raelle. I promised myself if I ever had the chance to redeem myself in his eyes, I wouldn’t let him down again.
“Everyone will return in one piece. I promise,” I say, rising from the chair.
Leif rolls the map and hands it to me. “I wish I could do more. If I had more time?—”
“Don’t,” I say, not wanting him to spiral down a hole ofif only. “You gave us a direction, a starting point. You did good.”
He rubs the back of his neck and blows out a breath. “I hope this works. Not just for the kingdom, but for you and Raelle. You will never understand how grateful I am that she found you. I could never give her what she deserves, but you can.”
“Thank you, Leif, for everything you’ve done,” I say, holding out my hand.
“You’re welcome.”
We shake hands before I turn to Wel. “Thank you for supporting him. I know you’re the reason he had the strength not to give up.”
Wel bows his head. “It was my honor.”
Abrum walks with me to the door. He reaches for the doorknob and pauses, putting us face to face, the respect we have for one another lingering between us. “I look forward to the day when you are officially a part of my family. You are as special to me as any of my blood children.”
“I look forward to that day as well,” I say, fighting past the lump in my throat.
He pulls me into his arms and hugs me with a fierceness unlike anything I’ve ever felt. My body relaxes in his hold, and I wrap my arms around him. The security I felt with him as a child returns. I let the warmth of it wash over me and bask in the feeling.
My life before Abrum wasn’t all brutality and neglect. I had a father who loved me the way a father should. He nurtured me, saw me, heard me. The day my mother placed the Posseda in my hand, I didn’t understand what I was doing. But my father did. He loved me as I drained him of his gift, showing me that he forgave me even as I killed him. Abrum is a continuation of that love.
With two firm pats to my back, Abrum moves back and holds me in place by my biceps. “May the Statera keep you safe and grant you a swift journey, son.”
I bow my head with the same reverence I once showed Micah, and say, “Thank you, sir.”
I leave Leif’s office and find myself wandering the halls of the palace. The opulent decor and endless corridors have never felt like home to me. It doesn’t matter that my ancestors have roamed these halls for millennia. All of this may be my birthright, but nothing about it puts me at peace.
And it appears I’m not the only one who’s restless.
Greer stops on the other side of the hallway. Dark hair spikes out of her braid, and puffy, purple bags sit under her eyes. She ditched her uniform for a sleeveless shirt that showcases her muscular arms, and a loose pair of pants, which sits low on her hips. She watches me as she brings a bottle of whiskey to her lips, taking a generous gulp.
She runs the back of her hand over her mouth and says, “Can’t sleep.”
“Same,” I reply.
We meet each other in the middle of the long corridor, and she hands me the bottle. Like we’ve done this a million times, we move to opposite walls and slide down to the plush rug. We pass the bottle back and forth a couple of times, the alcohol burning down our throats, distracting us from the thoughts weighing heavy on our souls.
“You could be using your last free moments better. You have a beautiful girl warming your bed,” Greer says, her voice raspy.
I tick my head to the side and take another swig before handing the whiskey to her. “I couldn’t bring myself to wake her just to ease my mind, and I felt useless just staring at the ceiling. I could say the same to you. This place is crawling with people who would like to get their mind off things for a few minutes with you.”
“Can I be honest?”
The vulnerability in her tone is new. She has always been strength incarnate. When everything is falling apart, she is the one who takes charge to fix it. She doesn’t hold back her thoughts or play nice. Her direct approach is what first attracted me to her. When others feared me, she spoke her mind. She was sometimes brutal but always honest. It’s jarring to see her as anything less than a resilient leader.
“I’m shocked you’re asking. You’ve never asked for permission before,” I say.
She pulls her knees to her chest and swings the bottle like a pendulum in front of her. “I’ve never enjoyed fucking. It always felt like more work than it’s worth. People with fragile egos and less than satisfactory performances. I’d rather get off by myself and call it a day.”
“Well shit, that’s pretty fucking honest,” I say.
