Very slowly, I reach for her, drawing her into my arms and onto my lap. Even more slowly, she buries her face against my neck, her cheeks so wet with tears that I fear they’ll turn to ice against my skin.
I take a breath. Swallow. Force myself to speak. “I’m sorry, Thyra. I’m truly…” I squeeze my eyes closed. “If I could go back, I’d leave him alive. Even if he healed enough to threaten you, I could have protected you without killing him.”
Fuck, but this seems to hurt her even more.
Fresh sobs break out of her, and all I can do is let her shed her tears, hold her while she feels it all, even as I’m driven to tell her what I believe to be the truth about Antony.
“He told me to keep you safe,” I whisper as she cries. “He was spiraling. Coming in and out of clarity, but his better self was losing. He knew it. I knew it. He wanted me to protect you—from him.”
Thyra’s tears soak into my tunic, a deep well of them, and all I can do is stroke her back, knowing I can’t give her warmth, but I can try to soothe her.
“We are not good kings,” I say. “None of us.”
Slowly, she tips back her head. Her hand slips up to my face, her fingertips feathering my jaw, brushing across what are no doubt bruises already forming.
For a long time, shestudies me.
Such a long silence.
Until her whole body becomes heavy against mine, an exhaustion that can only come with the release of deeply held grief.
Her sadness won’t go away. Sorrow never goes away. But now it’s out in the open between us.
Her lips part, and I wait for her voice to destroy me.
Whatever verdict she wants to deliver upon me, I’m ready to accept it.
“You told me that in this kingdom, even a queen can suffer unbearable pain,” she says.
I give a small nod. “True.”
“Then so can a king.”
So fucking true, but in this context, I’m not sure what she wants from me. “Thyra?”
“Your heart is cold and cruel,” she says, her hand slipping from my jaw to my chest, pressing between us.
Again, I nod.
Without taking her gaze from mine, she says, “For the death of the man who loved me, I demand a retribution that could make you hurt.”
She’s already hurting me.
Every breath she takes from a mouth I don’t have permission to kisshurts me.
“You are going to believe that there can be goodness in your life.”
I draw back a little.
I’m even more uncertain of her intentions now.
With a quiet voice, she continues. “You’re not going to sleep outside anymore. Because you don’t have to be alone. You’re not going to force yourself to stay near a place that reminds you of losing your family. Because you don’t have to bear that pain on my behalf anymore.” She stops to drag in abreath. “And when I ask for help—because I’m certain there will come a time when I need to ask—you’re going to trust that we will face any consequences together. Because I’m here with you.”
A retribution that could hurt me…
Her retribution threatens to shatter every boundary still between us and heal every crack in my unfeeling soul.
She was right that this retribution could hurt me.
