And then I’d died.
Except death hadn’t brought the release I’d chased.
Tears seeped from my eyes, and I let them and my grief flow unimpeded.
It was a solace my Edwin lived once more. If not for that, I very well might go back to the bathtub and try death a second time. Still, he lived—he lived, and I had a chance denied me the first time. A chance to love him openly. I tried to cling to that, to let the memory of his death go, since it had no place in this timeline.
My own death didn’t have a place in this timeline either, really, except as a restarting point. I couldn’t regret my death. Still, it was a very strange feeling to have the visceral memory of pain flooding your body, of your life’s blood seeping from your wounds, letting out that death rattle and knowing you’dbreathed your last breath—only to wake up perfectly fine in a soft bed. Very, very strange. Surreal in the worst and best sense.
Sighing, I wiped away the tears and consoled myself once more. Edwin lived. I must focus on this present and not the past, at least in that sense. For now, that meant I must sleep. I wouldn’t be able to function at all tomorrow if I didn’t get some rest.
I rolled onto my side, tugged the covers up over my shoulder, and set myself to sleep.
It came in fits and snatches. I’d doze off, only to replay the memory of Allen announcing “Your Majesty, Edwin has been murdered” again and again, as if my subconscious was set to torture me. Then I’d startle awake, tears streaming from my eyes, a pained cry echoing in the air, and realize it was a nightmare. A nightmarish memory, anyway.
Sleep, rinse, repeat.
Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, I gave up. I simply couldn’t do this cycle again. I didn’t have the heart for it, and the sleep I had gotten somehow seemed more taxing than staying awake. With a long sigh, I threw the covers off and instead chose to dress in workout clothes. I tied my hair back out of my eyes and slipped out of the room, heading for the nearest training yard.
Though not a prince yet, I had been put in a suite of rooms in my own wing of the palace, with the understanding that it would be mine going forward. This meant I had a training yard of my own relatively close, only two hallways away.
Of course, the rectangular training yard sat empty at this insane hour of the night, nor had I expected to see anyone here. I went immediately to the weapons wall, where various training equipment was organized.
Despite having used a sword to take on the Demon King, it wasn’t my strongest weapon, nor my favorite. I was decent butno swordmaster. No, the bow was my preferred weapon. I’d won many a competition with it. Needing something comforting in my hands, I selected one. The bow had never failed me.
I strung it up, selected a quiver of arrows, and paced myself away from the target hanging on the far wall. A few mage lights dimly lit the area, meant more for security patrols than any real illumination. It sufficed for my purposes.
Nock the arrow, pull, feel the exertion in my shoulders, my forearm—release.
Nock, pull, release.
The steady movement soothed my soul in a way I couldn’t explain. Hearing thethunkof the arrow as it landed in the target was like a steady chant in my ears, keeping the dark memories at bay as I put one arrow after the next into the target. Nicely grouped, too. Then again, if I couldn’t hit a still target atthisdistance, something was seriously wrong with me.
Finally, I emptied the quiver for the umpteenth time and went to retrieve them all. Only as I walked toward the target did I realize the sun had started to rise. How long had I been out here? Hours, of course, but exactly how long? Three, four?
Another wave of fatigue washed over me, but the concept of trying to return to my room and sleep for a few more hours sounded so distasteful, I couldn’t fathom it.
Never mind. I’d return to my room to wash the sweat off and dress for the day, but sleep was clearly out of the question. Wistfully, I thought of the past. When I’d had trouble sleeping back then, my Edwin would sit and read to me. He possessed a truly wonderful voice that would lull me to sleep each time. If I ever needed such a favor, it was now.
And sadly, I couldn’t even ask.
I put the bow and arrows away before returning to my room. No point in pining for the past. I’d have to work to gain his trustonce again, to rebuild our relationship up to that point—and hopefully past it.
I wasn’t the type to put all my eggs in one basket, either before or now, which meant I hadn’t sold my business upon my adoption as prince. Quite frankly, I hadn’t thought I would become so thoroughly sucked in to the situation as to become king. I’d thought I’d do princely duties in a more part-time manner, and after having spent so much of my heart and time on my business, I’d been loath to relinquish it.
Now, however, I was determined to keep running it and remain a part-time prince. I was here solely to help boost Helena onto the throne and nothing more, and then I’d return to my business. That was my very firm plan.
Which meant I had business paperwork to oversee before the official workday began.
Most of it sat on the desk in my new office, so I went there, making myself a strong cup of khavé from the sideboard before settling in. The room was empty, and I expected it to stay so for another two hours or more. It was barely dawn now. I’d pause and eat at, er, some point. I couldn’t stomach the thought of eating now. Maybe I’d have an early lunch instead of breakfast.
I’d always found it hard to eat when emotional or stressed. Edwin and I were very much alike in that aspect.
Most of my paperwork involved quick decision-making. Ad campaigns submitted for my approval, new product designs, requests for branch stores to be opened, things of that ilk. I had to read through them more carefully than usual because I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d done ten years ago. My memory cottoned on after a while, and I recalled some of these decisions—including that one branch store. I’d nix it. That location had failed before it could even fully open.
Everything else had worked rather well. Those I signed off on with full confidence.
The door to the office clicked open and I tilted my head up automatically to see who had entered.
