Larylis threw his head back with laughter, shattering every last remnant of tension between them. For a moment, Teryn felt like they were boys again, enjoying each other’s company without a care in the world. Without knowing the weight of a kingdom would one day fall upon Teryn’s shoulders. And that Larylis wouldn’t be allowed to share the burden with him.
Once they sobered from their mirth, Larylis took his leave, insisting he wanted to visit Verlot’s library before they headed home in the morning. That sounded like his brother, all right. Larylis had never met a library he didn’t like.
No sooner than Larylis left did a knock sound at Teryn’s door. With a frown, he opened it, finding a palace servant on the other side. The man handed Teryn a small envelope. It bore no emblem, just an unmarked wax seal. “Your Highness,” the servant said with a curt bow.
Teryn dismissed him and brought the mysterious envelope inside his room and out onto the balcony. Berol immediately tried to take the envelope from him.
“No, this one isn’t for you,” Teryn said, pulling it out of her reach. While Berol wasn’t a messenger bird, Teryn had trained her to carry letters on occasion. Mostly to his mother or back home to his father while visiting his mother’s palace.
Teryn opened the letter and removed its contents—a single sheet of paper with only four sentences scrawled across it. None of them bore the name of the sender.
Meet me in the garden at midnight. Water nymph statue. The busty one with the ample breasts. It will be worth your while.
Teryn read it five times over, then flipped it back to front. Who the hell had sent such a strange missive? And what could they possibly want?
It will be worth your while.
Teryn realized the letter could have been sent by an emboldened chambermaid hoping to get Teryn alone on Beltane. It was almost tempting enough to excite him. He’d entertained numerous liaisons of a similar nature in the past. That is, until he started to feel too much like his father. Breaking hearts. Spending time with women he knew he could never wed. Should he seek pleasure now, he had to do it with predetermined detachment. Not on a whim with someone who very well might expect to become his mistress. Besides, if he were to enjoy a meaningless tryst, it wouldn’t be in the home of his betrothed. Still…
He read the letter once more, snorting a laugh over theample breastsline. If the letter wasn’t sent in the name of seduction, he hadn’t a clue to its purpose.
What he did know was—come midnight—he’d be damned if he didn’t find out.
11
Larylis Seralla didn’t have his father’s name. He wasn’t an Alante like Teryn, nor was he a prince. Instead, Larylis went by his mother’s surname. Seralla. And yet, it didn’t matter whose name he’d been given or whose blood flowed in his veins. For he had neither of his parents’ fickle hearts. They’d nearly started a war over their love. Larylis was determined never to be so foolish. To never forget his place.
So when Teryn had asked him if he had feelings for Princess Mareleau, he’d lied. Sort of. While Larylis no longer kept love in his heart for the princess, he hadn’t been telling the truth when he’d said their kiss had meant nothing. And there hadn’t been just a single kiss, but several. However, only one had felt significant. It was their final kiss. At the time, it had meant the world to Larylis because it had sealed their mutual expressions of love. Of course, that was before he’d learned what it really meant to be the illegitimate son of a king. Mareleau must not have understood it either at the time. Not until they were caught kissing in the stables by her uncle. That was when Larylis had been sent back to Dermaine Palace. By the time he’d arrived, he’d learned Mareleau was already engaged to Teryn. Whether the arrangement had been made before or after they’d been caught kissing, it mattered not. For the letter he’d received from her that day told him everything he needed to know.
I could never love a bastard.
Meanwhile, Teryn had been sent a letter too, one chronicling her excitement over their upcoming nuptials and professing her undying love.
Larylis knew then that Mareleau wasn’t who he’d thought she was. Despite the way he still caught his heart lurching at the thought of his former flame, Larylis was determined not to get in the way of her and Teryn’s union. Not like his mother had done, driving a wedge between the king and queen until Arlous did the unthinkable—broke vows, severed royal bonds, and nearly drove his country into chaos in an effort to make Lady Annabel his new queen. His father had insisted it was in Larylis’ best interest too, for if Annabel was queen, Larylis could be named a prince. His mother had whispered far more devious suggestions—that it could also mean he might have a stronger claim to the throne after Arlous passed.
A claim he never asked for.
Never wanted.
His jaw tightened at the memory. A sour taste lingered in his mouth as he left his brother’s door and headed for the library. Seeing Teryn struggle with the burden of having to right their father’s wrongs reminded Larylis exactly why being a prince was far less admirable than storybooks made it sound. Sure, were Larylis a prince, he could have wed the girl he’d once loved. Then again, considering how cold and duplicitous she’d proved to be, he was willing to bet he’d dodged a dagger in being born a bastard.
Larylis reached the end of the hall before he realized he’d passed the turn that led to the palace library. After a week of dining and dancing, he craved the quiet solace of books. Besides, the library at his home palace was starting to get out of date, with his father approving fewer purchases to stock it.
He looked back the way he’d come, down the length of polished marble floor, the elegantly papered walls, the gilded frames and oil lamps interspersed every few steps. At this end of the hall, the lamps were dimmer, the bustle of servants far less frequent. He looked to his left, finding an unlit corridor. Even after three years away from the palace, he remembered it. Knew where it led. Perhaps he’d had a subconscious reason for bypassing the library.
His feet began to move before his mind caught up. Soon the corridor opened to a circular alcove. He stood at the center of it, remembering how many times he and Mareleau had met there in secret. A half smile tugged his lips as his eyes roved the four enormous windows, each with a cushioned seat built into the sill with a view that overlooked the garden, perfect for reading on a blustery day. Three of the floor-length velvet curtains remained tied open, while one on the far right was pulled closed, obscuring both the window and its sill. He recognized that window, even with the drape drawn shut. It had once been his and Mareleau’s favorite place to hide.
Feeling a nostalgic pull, he approached the curtain and tugged it open.
His heart climbed into his throat.
For a moment, he felt as if he’d stumbled upon a tableau from the past. There sat Mareleau, curled on the cushion with her knees pulled up to her chest, just like how she used to sit when they were younger. She startled and whirled away from the window. If this truly were a scene from memory, Larylis knew what would happen next—she’d give him her secret smile, take his hand, and drag him down next to her. His breath would hitch, his heart would race, and his lips would burn with their desire to claim hers…
“What are you doing here?” she blurted out in a rush, eyes wide.
It was enough to shatter the illusion, to remind Larylis this wasn’t a tableau and the woman in the window wasn’t the girl he once loved. “Sorry.” Larylis dropped the curtain and turned away, but before he could take more than a few steps, he heard her rush out from behind the velvet drape.
“Larylis.”
