Tension building inside me, I head for his room. When I find it empty, my heart plummets into my feet. Part of me wantsto believe that he might be dead. That he never made it back. Because that’ll be better than the alternative.
Guilt slamming into me, I pivot and storm down the hall, then spread my wings and fly to the healing quarters. Echo trails behind me, as silent as any shadow.
Everything in me is trying to convince myself that my brother isn’t here. That he isn’t just behind the wooden door now in front of me. But I don’t need to hear his voice to know he is.
He always goes running back to her whenever she’s hurt.
I shove open the door, trying to control my fury. I don’t want him to see it and mistake it for judgement.
I’ll be behind him whatever he chooses. Whatever stupid mistake he makes, I will be there to pick up the pieces.
It’s her I hate.
“Stephanie –” Nicholas murmurs as he holds her hand. He spins in his seat to face me, guilt flashing in his eyes. But he doesn’t release her hand.
She’s lying in bed with a healer standing over her. White light glows from the witch’s palms as they hover over her bared and bleeding stomach.
“Will she live?” I demand.
“Yes, Your –”
“Then get out.”
“I’ve not fi–” She cuts off at the glare I give her. Her magic fades. Her face pales.
“Richard!” Nicholas protests as he stands.
“She can stay if you leave,” I say, turning my attention to him and letting him see that honesty.
“I can’t leave her,” he replies, his voice twisted with a love she does not fucking deserve.
I look back at the healer. She hurries for the door, her head bowed.
“Stop!” Nicholas begs of her. But she doesn’t, stepping out into the hall, so he turns to me. “Please! She needs help.”
“She needs to die.”
“She’s my wife!”
“Ex-wife.”
“Because you forced –”
“Look in the mirror, Nicholas!” I roar, staring at the twisted half of his face. He flinches, the scars she gave him twisting in agony and shame.
I close my eyes briefly as I inhale. Opening them again, I force myself under control. “She does not deserve your loyalty, brother.”
“And you do?” he bites out bitterly, his words cutting deep into a guilt that’s never left. My scarred hand burning with all the ways I’ve failed my siblings, I press it against my thigh.
“I didn’t mean –”
I shake my head, not wanting to discuss Aurelia here. Not in front of Stephanie. Even if she’s unconscious, her mere presence is a disease.
“I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve, but my duties as king –”
“I know,” he says. There’s no hate in his words. Just a tiredness, a regret, a lifetime of accepting that he will never come first while I wear the crown.
While I went off to war with our two sisters, he was left behind. When I became king, the distance between us grew because it’s too risky for us to be in the same place for long. I went to war and became a hero. He was forced to stay behind and became a victim.
