Page 89 of A Requiem of Fire and Ice

Astin pockets the cigarettes and steps aside. I reach for the handle, but hesitate. The silver in his eyes illuminates when my focus rolls in his direction, giving him a level look. “How far does your devotion go for me? Will you save me if Prince Reen tries to kill me?”

“No,” he says, but the way he says it bothers me. Thick resolve swirls on the tip of his tongue, sucker-punching me because, for a moment, even slightly, I thought he might hesitate. Whatever he has felt or feels for me is nothing compared to how he feels for Prince Reen.

“What does he have on you for you to act like his lapdog?”

Astin stares with vacancy. No light shines in those eyes. There’s nothing but darkness. “The difference between you and Reen is that while I saved you, he saved me. Therefore, the vicious cycle continues with being in one’s debt.”

My eyes narrow. “I am not in your debt.”

“No. You have no morals.”

“Neither does Prince Reen.”

Astin twitches a smile. “That’s where you’re wrong. He has a code: his family and the Knights of Eraminia. You, though, kill or yearn to kill anyone who gets in your way. And even if you empathise with someone tethered to the one you want to kill, you will still kill them, regardless. Like how you killed King Ragan without a second thought for the Queen—if you ever thought of her.”

“Air elemny,” I say through clenched teeth. “You think you’re so fucking smart, over-analysing someone without knowing them.”

“Didn’t you do the same with Prince Reen by accusing him of having no morals? I am merely showing you how, compared to Reen, your thinking is grey. As much as you hate how he talks, he speaks with the most truth when he talks to someone he finds curious. Maybe you should, too.”

What is his game? What is everyone’s game on this damn ship? Fuck me, it’s getting on my damn nerves.

My brow twitches. Without a word, I swing the door open, enter muttering curses, and slam the door shut behind me.

It’s irritating to know that when I thought I had an ally, they are not mine when they’re around him. So, during the past few days on the ship, seeing him protect my door and be watchful was never in my best interest, but because Prince Reen likely told him to. All this time, his motivation was for Prince Reen.

Fuck me. I thought I had a damn edge, but my hope has crumbled. I know I don’t have the strength to beat him in the arena. He’s powerful, and it’s telling. His bloodlust for me is too strong for him to hesitate.

So, how do I survive the deal I’ve created for myself?

Desmond would tell me to fight, no matter what, but other thoughts, darker, tell me to manipulate Prince Reen. Would he go for it? I fucking tried earlier, and he called me flat-chested. He is a damn wall made of iron, and he will not buy the cute, flirty persona I showed Xavier.

Fuck.

I’m going to die.

Chapter 39

The Curator:

By the age of eight, the doors to the Queen’s chambers closed. Maids and a nurse cared for Emmerton while the Queen withdrew from everyone around her. Reen would often stand outside her door, but the maids on duty would steer him back downstairs and tell him that the Queen wasn’t interested in seeing anyone. He had never seen his mother from ages eight to ten and would never know why.

Instead, he focused on Walkyer, the small six-year-old boy who often wandered alone in the castle because he wasn’t permitted to leave. King Ragan didn’t care for him and certainly cared even less for Emmerton, which caused Reen to be a guardian for Walkyer, at the very least. He would lock doors to prevent Walkyer from hurting himself in there or open others to give him access to the kitchens, where he could steal food from the freezer. Reen watched his younger brother, who never noticed him. It was therapeutic for him.

Whenever Walkyer went to the pool outside, Reen felt the tightness across his throat and the agitation of being near the water. Walkyer seemed to have found his calling, spending most days swimming while Reen watched. It wasn’t until half a year had passed that King Ragan summoned Reen, and they roamed around the courtyard housing the deep, chillingly cold pool. Reen kept his distance, flexing his hands and twitching whenever the water rippled, creating a sloshing noise that made him want to gag.

“You shouldn’t be afraid,” King Ragan said as he crouched by the water.

Reen eyed him as King Ragan swept his hand across the water, letting the silky feeling slip through his fingertips before he lifted his hand and splashed Reen in the face. Reen, surprised, stumbled back in a panic and hid behind the bare trees.

“Fear can be worse than death,” King Ragan explained. “It can have a grip on you until the day you die and can prevent you from doing something you should.” He nudged his head and said, “Come here. Touch the water.”

It wasn’t water that frightened Reen. He had many hot baths and showers. Reen feared the manipulation of water and its cold bite against his warm skin. It could do unknown things, and when there was no bottom to it or the way a tide could pull you under, it frightened Reen the most when it came to water.

Whenever his older sister went swimming, a bottomless pit would open up when she submerged for long periods. Sometimes, he would hold his breath and count, but he never got past twenty seconds before panic flushed across his skin, causing him to tremble in fear of drowning.

But what frightened him more than water was defying King Ragan. So, he crouched beside King Ragan and leaned down to touch the water. He flinched initially from the bite, but the icy feeling disappeared as blood circulated through his fingertips.

King Ragan petted Reen’s back and said, “Good. Now swim,” and shoved Reen into the water.