My jaw tightens.Damn it.
“My brother was the heir,” I say. “The perfect one. Kind. Smart. Everyone loved him. The court would have built him apalace of gold, if he’d wanted it. I was the spare. The backup. The only thing I was good at was fighting, and even then, the old generals called me a liability. Too reckless. Too much temper, not enough thought.”
I smile, slow and bitter. “They started sending me to the borders before I was even grown. They’d say it was for training, but it was just to keep me out of the way. Every season it was a new front with more monsters, more rebels, more things that needed burning down. When I did well, they’d give the credit to my brother because he was the heir. The beloved one. When I failed, it was my fault, always. But I kept going.”
I pause. There’s a feeling in my throat that I don’t like. It feels like weakness. Like maybe if I keep talking, I’ll let it out and never get it back in.
Alette asks, voice soft, “Is that where all your scars are from?”
I bark a laugh. “Not all. Some are from training. Some are from fights I shouldn’t have walked away from. Some—” I touch my side, just under the ribs, where the flesh always aches in cold weather, “—some are from the dungeons. I got thrown in every time I crossed a line they didn’t like. I think the record was three months, in a cell smaller than this. They kept it just warm enough to keep me alive, but not enough to stop the burns and wounds from healing wrong.”
Alette stares at me, but not with pity. With interest. Like maybe I’m finally making sense to her.
“My brother died when I was nineteen. Monsters attacked the palace. Tore it to pieces. I fought my way back, but it was too late. I found him dying. He tried to say something, but his throat was gone. I just held him.” My hands clench. “There was nothing I could do.”
Sylvian says, “We knew about how much you fought, but they never told us the rest of this. About the dungeons and the torture.”
“Why would they?” I spit. “It makes the court look weak. Makes them look scared of their own weapon. I wasn’t supposed to rule. I was supposed to die in battle, or rot in some hole, or serve as a warning to every other hothead who thought they were better than their betters.”
He shrugs, but doesn’t take offense. “I always thought you just liked fighting.”
I grunt. “I don’t even like war. I just don’t know how to do anything else. They made sure of that.”
Silence. Alette is still watching me. They all are, and I know I said too much. I bore my soul when I never should have.
Ashton says, “I didn’t know how your brother died. They just said it was in battle.”
I look at him. “Nobody knew the full story. That he was never much of a warrior and could do nothing to fight and protect himself when the monsters came. The official story is that he fought like a warrior, but I was too slow. Too pathetic to save him. And those are the nice stories. The others say that I wanted the crown. That I didn’t save him on purpose. I hate it. I hate the throne. The power. The responsibility. I’d have traded places with my brother in a heartbeat. He’s the one who was meant for this.”
He nods, just once.
Cassius asks, quietly, “What about your court? Do they follow you now? They seem to follow you.”
I shrug. “They do as I say. But they don’t respect me as their king. As their leader. They never will. I’m just the only royal they have left. Even the women seem torn between the horrifying idea of being stuck with me, weighing it with the benefit of being royalty. The most desperate of them try, thinking the wealth and power are worth it.”
Sylvian leans closer, his voice gentle, for once. “Why are you telling us this?”
I open my mouth, but the words jam up. It takes everything I have to get them out.
“Because we’re growing closer. Something between us… it’s changing. Because you should know. Because you deserve the truth. And because,” I say, eyes fixed on the stone, “I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t matter.”
Alette moves first, surprising all of us by climbing into my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck. Her weight, her warmth, the easy way she touches me... It’s everything.
“Thank you for telling us,” she says, and I lean into her touch, drinking it in. Remembering what it feels like to be alive. To be cared for.
Sylvian grins, wide and stupid. “So that’s why you’re such a miserable bastard all the time.”
He says it with a brightness that makes me want to punch him, but it works. The others laugh. Even me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Now you know.”
Alette doesn’t let go. She holds me closer to her, our hearts beating as one, and I swear that I’ve never felt more loved. Even if this isn’t love.
I don’t hate it.
Alette looks up at me, pulling back just a little. “Do kings still go and fight the monsters?”
Ashton laughs. “No, the courts aren’t willing to risk the last of the royals like that.”
