His hand left my waist, and he opened the door. If I stayed even a heartbeat longer in the periphery of his warmth, I’d fall apart. There was too much love, too much want whipping around inside me. I’d tried to fight it, to keep it in neat compartments in my mind. Merrick and Lorant, light and dark. Caring but never falling. But there was no fighting this anymore. I’d fallen for them both, and that love now sat heavy on my chest, gouging into my ribs like the sharpest blade.
When we stepped out into the landing, Surren straightened, his gaze shifting from me to Lorant. Lorant’s jaw flexed as he eased past me, his broad shoulders casting a shadow across the doorway.
“Take care with my—” A growl rumbled in his chest. “With my queen at all times.”
Surren stiffened, his nod sharp. Lorant's unreadable gazelingered on Surren before he strode forward, his movements brisk, as if putting distance between us was his only goal.
“My queen.” Surren gestured to the rest of my guard to take their places in front and behind me.
I walked after Lorant, and when we reached the first hallway, our gazes met, lingering long enough for me to see the unguarded pain in his eyes. So much sadness there. They held an ache that mirrored mine so completely it was like staring down at the severed pieces of my heart.
Three. My heart had broken intothreepieces, and Merrick, Lorant, and I each held one.
When we reached my suite, his strong gait carried him down the corridor where he opened the door and strode into Merrick’s room, keeping up the illusion of being the king’s ever-diligent bodyguard.
I entered my sitting area with his tortured gaze still haunting me.
“I won't need you again tonight,” I told my ladies, my voice tight with pain.
Faelith, Moira, and Calista exchanged glances, but they didn't protest. They curtsied in unison and disappeared into the hall, where they'd make their way to their own quarters. My guards took their places outside the room, the familiar metallic clink of their armor the last thing I heard before the door shut, leaving me and Farris alone in the suite.
He bounded toward me, his favorite ball in his mouth, but I didn’t have the strength to throw it tonight.
I stumbled into my room and collapsed onto the bed with my leathers, blades, and boots still on.
The world tipped into blackness.
Sunlight scratched at my consciousness,and I opened my eyes, blinking toward the draped fabric overhead. My eyes burned, but there was no time to linger in bed. The morning’s court sessions would begin soon.
The throne room was alive with its usual orchestrated disarray. Petitioners waited along the edges of the room, some fidgeting with their cloaks, others staring at the dais. Nobles sat on benches on either side of the aisle, their voices carrying across the room.
All stared at me as I entered. Some lifted their eyebrows. Others gossiped behind cupped hands.
I joined Merrick, sitting beside him while supplicants came forward.
“What do you think about this one?” he asked, over and over, seeking my opinion on all the more complicated cases while making decisions himself for the simple ones.
I couldn't stop staring at him, noting how steady his hand was on the arm of his throne, how intensely focused his gaze became when a petitioner walked forward to speak. He was a king who believed in his people, but even more, he wanted them to believe in him.
Separating them wasn’t an option anymore. Merrick and Lorant. Different, yet one. Their faces blurred in my mind when I closed my eyes. With each decision Merrick made, I craved more time to see his light and warmth.
The ruthlessness Lorant wielded wasn’t something less; it was a necessary thing.
Together, they made a whole I couldn’t ignore.
Early-afternoon foundme in the kitchen, flour dusting my hands as I stood beside the head chef. Dulvade’s booming laughechoed as we sifted grains into a bowl. As we ground them and added the fine powder to the mix.
“Horig cakes,” he said in a cheery voice. “Simple, but elegant when done right. Like all good recipes. Honestly, my queen, I've been dying to make these. I’m so glad you’re eager to create them with me.”
I grinned up at him. “I am.”
I folded in the horig, spices, and my secret ingredient as he handed them to me, and leaned over the bowl, sucking in the sweet, grainy aroma. After stirring, we tumbled the blob out onto a floured surface.
“I can’t wait to taste them,” Moira said, her gaze more on the chef than me. I suspected my horig cakes weren't the only things she was eager to taste inside the kitchen. We'd left Calista in my suite to straighten up, and Faelith had taken Farris for a long walk outside. “What makes this recipe so special?”
Dulvade beamed her way, his thick arms working the dough, kneading it over and over. “Patience.”
She glanced between us, her brow furrowed. “That’s not a flavor.”
