“Then what is your purpose?”
“The same purpose I have had in our previous discussions on this topic. I need you to think about what will befall this kingdom if you cross the Veil, Cethin.”
His fingers paused mid-drum, and he sat back in his chair, stretching his injured leg out beneath the desk.
“Your parents worked tirelessly to ensure this kingdom survived. If you go to the After without a partner or heir, you risk it all.” Cethin started to argue, but Tybalt held up a hand to stop him. “I know you’ve heard these arguments time and again. I know you have plans in place should something happen to you without a partner or heir, but we both know those plans will be challenged. You’ve lived hundreds of years, but you’ve only been a king for one. Until a year ago, there was an heir upon the king’s death. Until a year ago, you could be reckless. Tethys’s death changed all of that.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Cethin demanded.
His father’s death had changed everything. He’d lost more than a father. He’d lost a freedom he’d taken for granted. Lost those he’d once considered friends. Lost being able to adventure, replaced by daily monotony.
The silence grew heavy between them, weighted by a shared grief that affected them both differently. Tybalt, for all his kindness and concern, remained loyal to his parents, not to him. Always pushing for him to follow their example rather than forgehis own path as the world and circumstances changed around them.
Tybalt cleared his throat, the sound jarring in the quiet. “The female in the cells. Tell me about her.”
Of course he knew about that already.
Cethin sighed, getting to his feet and crossing to the window. It faced the east. Faced the sea. Even if he couldn’t quite see it from here, he could picture it. He’d go there later tonight. After he dealt with this. The sun was setting. Then he could listen to the waves beneath the stars and figure out what his next moves were going to be.
“There’s not much to tell,” he said, finally answering Tybalt.
“She stabbed you. Twice, according to Jarek,” Tybalt countered.
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“It doesn’t appear to be complicated at all. She stabbed the king.”
“And she’s the only one who can create the weapons that kill the creatures threatening my people,” Cethin ground out.
“That only started appearing around the time she did. You don’t find that at all coincidental?”
Had he truly been so wrapped up with everything—withher—that he’d missed that?
No.
She was fighting them. Killing them. She didn’t bring them here.
But shewasunwilling to help him fight against them…
If she were responsible, that was all the more reason to bring her to their side.
Bring her tohisside.
“I’m handling it,” he finally replied, turning to face the male who was like a second father to him.
“She is a danger to you and to this kingdom, Cethin,” Tybalt said sharply.
“I said I’ll handle it,” he ground out. “Is that all?”
“No, it is not all,” the Commander said, his words tight and pointed. “You need to stop putting yourself in harm’s way until all of this is sorted.”
“There will always be another threat. I’m the king. It comes with the job,” he replied, dropping back into his chair. “So if we’re simply going to repeat past conversations, you’re dismissed.”
“Cethin—”
“It wasn’t a request, Commander.”
Tybalt stared back at him, and he could see the conflict play out across his face: follow the orders of his king or try to talk to the male he considered family.
