I never asked for this.
But while Landon still struggled with guilt over what had happened last year, and the Knights of this year’s Round Tableau picked their Maidens from a preordained pile, I ran out of options.
I’d sworn I wouldn’t yield. I’d promised...
My eyes fixed on the bright spots nestled between darker shades of green before falling to the space below.
The only spot of creamy white canvas left.
The only bit of light amongst the vibrant hues that I’d combined to form my life-long symbol of darkness.
I set down the brush and wiped my hands.
After cleaning up and scrubbing every hint of where I’d been from my face and arms, I left the tower. Needing to find him as I slowly accepted defeat.
I breathed easier when I did, even though he looked up at me with a frown. He didn’t realize it was there. Marring his features the way it always did.
Whenever he sat beneath the lemon tree.
Landon
THREE NIGHTS EARLIER
Kingston looked up, sensing my presence and meeting my eyes, as his father’s voice filled the room.
“That boy. The girl. The problems you brought to my doorstep. If you step out of line, I will take everything you love and destroy it.”
“I understand, father.”
“When you leave what you love exposed, son, someone will always come for it.”
Kingston’s eyes widened, jumping between me and the door. He mouthed her name, a frightened question in his eyes. I quickly shook my head, mouthingMax Dreadin return.
His rigid posture slackened, shoulders dropping, and he refocused on his father’s voice.
My eyes narrowed on his relief while the urge to go upstairs and confirm she was safe with him turned my body toward the door. I was moving away from him before I consciously decided to leave the room.
Kingston cleared his throat. He held out his hand, asking me to wait, before his eyes returned to the fireplace.
I stared at his outstretched hand, palm out.
Sharp pain lanced my temple.
Father, please. I can explain?—
“I’m through with your explanations, boy.”
Drake D’Arthur seethed through the phone, pulling me back to the present.
“When the time comes, I’ll see for myself that the past remains buried, and that any plans you’ve made against me come to an end. Don’t forget your place,Kingston. Don’t forget that all you have—all you are—is because ofme. Or you’ll be no son of mine.”
Kingston’s grip tightened on the phone, his father’s threat both a temptation and a death sentence. Even if he wanted his father to disown him, take the responsibility of Camelot Court away, he would never be free once he did.
That realization struck me.
I didn’t know how I knew it, but I did.
Resignation hung heavy in his response. “Yes, father.”
