“Josie was born to be a warrior,” he explained. “It’s all she ever wanted. But her birth order never quite allowed for it.”
“Aren’t second siblings the ones who have all the fun?” Dauphine asked wryly.
Aidon hummed in contemplation. He had thought so, once. He had envied Josie for the fact that she’d never have to be concerned with the weight of the crown. But she’d been forced to bow beneath it anyway.
They all had.
“Not in my family,” Aidon admitted. “My uncle was difficult. For all of us. But for Josie especially.”
“And your parents?”
Aidon traced the undecipherable patterns on the ceiling with his gaze as he thought of his father and his lectures and his desperation to make Aidon a better king than Dominic ever could be, his mother and her wisdom and the weariness that came with standing between two warring brothers, only to find herself advising a son thrust onto the throne far too soon.
Duty. Responsibility. Loyalty.
“They did the best they could.”
Dauphine lifted her glass in a toast. “Certainly more than I can say for mine.” She took a deep swig of her drink, her brow pinching as she swallowed.
Aidon glanced around the home. Because that’s what it was—a safe house nestled among the guards’ quarter of the city, yes, but it was also…ahome, with art on the walls and flowers in vases and throw pillows on the couch, now scattered on the floor.
“You’ve seemed to do okay for yourself,” he remarked.
Dauphine followed his gaze. He wondered what she saw when she looked around the space—if she ached the same way he did whenever he entered his family’s quarters after becoming king.
“Everything I have, I’ve bled for,” she murmured as she stared at one of the dried flower arrangements. She rolled her head across the arm of the chair, a smirk forming on her lips as she found Aidon watching her. “Not all of us are born with gold in our coffers and families on thrones,” she teased.
A clear defection. There was no hint of levity in the green of her irises. Perhaps that’s why Aidon responded with a truth plucked from the depths of him, unanticipated and unarmed.
“I’ve bled for my future, too.”
Not just physically, though he’d done that as well. But there was something to be said for the cuts on his heart. Those were the ones he feared would never heal.
“Not that I have much to show for it.” He glanced down at the hand holding his glass where it rested against his abdomen, as if he could see his Incend power through his skin. “I tried to mask my power for years in order to keep my crown, and now, I’m paying the price.”
“Because the realm knows your secret?” Dauphine asked with a curious tilt of her chin.
Aidon let out a gruff laugh. Hewishedthat was the worstof his troubles. “Because the tonic I took to contain it has made it unpredictable. It was supposed to keep my affinity from being detected—and keep me from being consumed by it the way Visya are if they don’t learn how to manage their power. But it seems to have just…delayed the consumption. Training has slowed the process, but I’m still not able to use large amounts. There’s too big a risk of me losing control, or”—he cut himself off, his throat dry as he forced a swallow—“or it devouring me entirely.”
Silence stretched in the wake of Aidon’s confession. He lifted his head slightly to take a long sip of his drink, his gaze fixed resolutely on the ceiling.
So much for harmless flirting, he thought wryly.
Perhapsthiswas his problem; he did not know how to hide his bleeding heart.
From the corner of his eye, he watched as Dauphine considered him for a long moment. Then she curled herself up, pivoting so she was sitting properly in the armchair, her feet planted on the ground. She gulped down the rest of her drink, coughing as it brought tears to her eyes.
“My father owned a brothel in Vezekol. They don’t hold the same esteem there as they do in Colmur, but he didn’t mind. He was far more interested in his employees than the gold it brought him. My mother…” Dauphine paused as she forced a swallow. “She took out her jealousy on her children.”
She angled her glass so it caught the firelight, the crystal winking like a star. “As if he cared. I don’t know that he even noticed the bruises marring my face.”
She tugged her lower lip in with her teeth, a divot forming between her brows as she continued to stare at her glass. “I managed to shield Luc from the worst of it. He was so young, I don’t think he remembers just how bad it got.”
Aidon pushed himself up slowly. “How bad did it get?”
Dauphine curled her thumb around her fingers of herfree hand, the joints popping as she fixed Aidon with a grim look. “Let’s just say they’re lucky to still be alive.”
She stood, her movements stiff as she grabbed the bottle of gin and refilled her glass. She glanced at Aidon’s, and he forced his next sip to look casual rather than pointed.
