Chapter 1
My mother tapped her thin,delicate fingers along the stiff fabric of the couch, her pale pink lips curving down, not quite sure what to do with me. Because today, I became Fynneares Andros Nadarean, prince and heir to the Pontian throne, and I was completely and utterly hung over.
When my brother and I returned home last night and retreated to our rooms, dawn had come quickly. After having gotten only three hours of sleep before my attendant Jorian woke me for breakfast, I had shouted harmless obscenities at him to get him to go away. Jorian, however, hadn’t relented. Apparently, future kings didn”t lie in bed all morning. If I did, that would, of course, make me appear ”indolent and irresponsible to my future subjects.”
How having breakfast with my nagging mother meant the opposite, I wasn”t quite sure.
Nevertheless, I was forced to dine with her while Terin was absent, no doubt flying through dreams while trying to find his own.
Even in the early morning hours, my mother was ever the queen. Not a strand of hair stuck out from her taut bun; not a single dusting of lint lingered on her lavender dress. Everything was in its place. Pristine, polished, flawless.
Her prim posture, however, couldn”t fool me.
The corner of my lip twitched, and I reached for the invisible string that only I could see and tugged.
”By the gods!” I shouted, squeezing my head between my palms as pain seared through my brain.
My mother scoffed and set the porcelain teacup on its saucer. ”Are you still so drunk that you are foolish enough to try and weasel your way into my mind, Fynneares? Didn”t you learn your lesson when you were a boy?”
”Apparently not,” I mumbled, snatching a pastry from the plate.
Maybe I was still drunk after last night”s card game with Terin and the Wilton brothers.
However, I would never admit that to my mother.
As a child and teenager, I had tried to slip into her mind one too many times not to know the repercussions now. Her mental shields were well established, forged in steel, and more impenetrable than our kingdom, surrounded by dangerous cliffs and protected by the kraken. Yet, it had never prevented me from trying.
In my twenty-three years, I had only been successful once at slipping through my mother”s shields.
I was five years old and had begun to discover my ability to read thoughts. At the time, hearing the thoughts of the grumbling staff and the other surrounding adults was as if a new world had revealed itself. I had learned then that adults were not as open as children. Where children often spoke their minds without concern for any repercussions, adults were closed lip about anything and everything. This only made me more curious. Discovering their secrets was like stealing a sweet treat from the kitchen behind the chef”s back.
Despite being told numerous times to tell my parents about anything odd I experienced, I kept my ability a secret for a couple of days, too set on learning everyone”s secrets.
When I had found my mother”s thoughts locked away with dozens of bolts and chains lining the walls of her mental fortress, I was determined to break through it.
I had been trying to pry into my mother”s mind for days with no luck when my family and I had ventured to the old summer home in northern Pontia. There, I had finally succeeded.
In the safety of her home, with only her children and husband around, her shields were down. An onslaught of thoughts drenched in worry, concern, and responsibility poured out of her mind. The kingdom”s secrets, the growing rebellions in the southern kingdoms, the weight of the crown, the fear of the future—it all came rushing out before I could close the door.
The following day, I woke up with a splitting migraine and no recollection of how I got to my bed.
I should have learned my lesson then, but I didn”t. I kept trying.
I should have considered it a blessing that my mother’s mind wasn”t as wide open as so many others around me. It was hard enough to bear the thoughts of everyone else. I didn”t need my mother”s worries pressing down on my shoulders, too. Yet I never learned my lesson, no matter how many times I was knocked out cold.
Maybe it was because I was a glutton for punishment. Or maybe it was because I wanted to know she was hurting as much as I was behind that small smile.
After all, over the past fifteen years, we had never once discussed that dreadful night that changed our entire world and stripped our kingdom of its king and princess. We had lost two of the people who mattered most to us. All I wanted to know was if the bull king haunted her dreams, too. If she still wept some nights, crying out for my father and sister.
I wanted to know if some days the anger was too painful to bear that she had to drink her nights away, too.
I wanted to see the face beneath the crown.
I knew my mother missed my father. I could see it in her sea-blue eyes. But instead of talking to us about her pain, she locked it away.
Because that”s what Nadareans did.
After all, I was the prince with the cocky smile and loud laughter. I was the one who never took himself too seriously. Who stayed up late, who drank too much at parties and gatherings, who danced with little care in the world, who kissed and slept with too many women.
And based on my mother”s stare from across the table, I was also the prince-about-to-be-named-heir who was already becoming an even bigger disappointment than he already was. I most certainly didn”t need to read her mind to know that. It was written in all the small movements—the way her blue eyes had turned stormy, the way the corner of her mouth ticked down, the way she rubbed the ring hanging from her necklace with two fingers.
Gods, I thought as I dropped her gaze.
I should have taken Lukas” offer to sleep in one of his guest rooms instead of coming home last night. But when Terin had given me that Mother-will-be-pissed look, I knew it was time for us to return to the castle. Apparently, Lukas” brother Riley was not enough of a draw to convince my twin to disappoint our mother.
Although, now, I wasn”t sure which look from my mother would have been worse.
She folded her hands on her lap and tilted her head an inch. ”Fynneares.”
I exhaled. ”Yes, Mother?”
Porcelain clattered as she set the cup on the table. ”Fynneares, you are a king?—”
”Ah,” I said, interrupting as I waved a piece of bacon in the air and leaned forward on the couch. ”Future king, Mother.”
”Fynneares Andros,” she warned.
”Esmeray Ledia.” I pointed the bacon at her, my brows bunching together in mockery.
She massaged her temples with two fingers, groaning, her calm demeanor slipping. ”Son, can you be serious for one moment, please?”
I snorted and popped the rest of the bacon into my mouth. ”I am always serious, Mother,” I said, my words muffled.
My mother”s eyes narrowed as she leaned over the table.
Unflinching, I went to grab another piece from the table, but the room spun. I gripped the edge of the couch, steadying myself.
”You are still drunk.” She sat back, shaking her head. ”And today of all days, Fynneares?”
I rolled my eyes and leaned against the couch, throwing an arm over the back.
”Fynn, you do recall what today is, right?”
”The fourteenth?”
”By the gods.” Her head fell into her palms. ”To think, we could have chosen Terin instead. He”s responsible and considerate. He”s?—”
”Also drunk,” I mumbled, interrupting my mother from diving into one of her needless comparisons and bouts of what-if and if-only.
Even though Terin and I were identical in appearance, we couldn”t have been more different. Terin preferred to play it safe. He didn”t want to break the rules. Even when he did after following me, he ended up ratting me out more often than not. Each time, we both would get yelled at, but Terin”s punishment would always be less severe. When we were fifteen, he told our mother we had broken into the royal liquor cabinets. Yet even though Terin had his fair share of rum that night, he escaped our mother”s berating since he had been the one to confess.
While I should have been upset that Terin didn”t receive the same treatment, I wasn”t. According to my mother, I should have known better since I was older (by a mere ten minutes). But I knew the truth.
Terin lived with his punishment every day and night. While my ability to hear people”s thoughts was often an annoyance, I could at least shut them off when I slept. Terin”s gift, on the other hand, was a different form of torture. The ability to walk through people”s dreams left him a walking corpse most days.
According to the advisors, Terin was, therefore, unfit to rule. A king needed to be at least alert to his surroundings.
Which left me as the only viable option.
While many thought I was too immature to rule, the gift granted to me by the blood that ran in my veins was at least advantageous for a ruler rather than a hindrance.
Thatwas the reason I was chosen to become heir.
Not because I was older.
Or because I was preferred by the people.
Or because I had proven myself more knowledgeable about the politics and the history of Vaneria’s seven kingdoms.
Not even because I could wield a sword better (I could, but that was beside the point).
At the end of the day, the reasoning for who was named heir was because of the gift I bore.
Perhaps my mother thought I was self-sabotaging; however, I couldn”t care less about being named heir or if the people thought me fit to rule. I would much rather be doing something worthwhile to help my kingdom. Sitting on a throne would do nothing to protect my people from another attack.
My mother shook her hand, mouth hanging open before quickly shutting it. ”Funny, Fynneares. You know your brother has issues sleeping. His gift is?—”
”Sensitive,” I finished for her, rolling my eyes. I pressed my hand against my head where the pressure was building—and not from the hangover. I sighed. ”I am well aware of the strain of Terin”s gift, but it doesn”t mean I do not speak the truth. Last night, he drank just as much as me. If you do not believe me, go find out for yourself.” I held out my hand and squeezed my eyes shut as I anticipated the world to fall away and spin around me as she searched my memories.
Her cold touch, however, never came.
Instead, my mother scoffed and picked up her tea. ”Do not try to distract me. This is not about Terin.” She took a sip of tea, her searing gaze accusatory. ”Now, about tonight.”
Rolling my eyes at my mother”s blatant disregard for the existence of a single flaw in Terin, I licked the bacon grease off the tips of my fingers. ”What about tonight?”
My mother pursed her lips with an absurd amount of discontent.
Huffing a laugh, I pushed myself upright on the couch, ignoring the spinning room. ”Stop worrying. I know what tonight is, Mother. My suit is already pressed and hanging up in my chambers. My shoes are already shined. I”m prepared to stand as pretty as the statues of the gods in the Whispering Springs in front of the entire kingdom while you place that golden crown on my head.” I flicked a dismissive hand in the air. ”Afterwards, I will eat my weight in little cakes and dance the night away like the good little prince you”ve raised me to be.”
My mother”s jaw flexed. But it wasn”t until her face softened that a chill crept up my neck. ”And you will find a wife.”
Hot tea spurted from my mouth as my throat seized up. ”Excuse me?” I asked, wiping the dribble from my mouth. ”What did you say?”
Unwavering, my mother raised a single brow. ”You can dance and eat all you want, but tonight, you are to find a wife.”
Through clenched teeth, I said, ”Mother, we talked about this.”
”We did.”
”We agreed,” I said, my hands curling around the edge of the cushion.
Peering over the cup, she said, ”No, we did not.”
”But you said?—”
She held up a hand, silencing me. ”Do not test my memory, Fynn. You know better than to do that. I said it was time you found a wife; you said you would think about it. Thinking time is over.”
”Mother, you are still young. There is no need to rush?—”
She lifted her chin. ”Today, you will be named heir to the Pontian throne. How will the kingdom know you are serious about your title if you do not take your own life seriously? How are they supposed to respect you if you do not even respect yourself?”
I shifted in my seat and glanced around the room.
Jorian stood near the window near my mother”s handmaiden, Elyza. Their faces were blank, but their minds were wide open. I latched onto the threads coming from their minds instinctively, following them as if they were a third hand, an extension of myself. I passed their flimsy mental walls with no more than a brush of a hand, and the floodgates to their minds opened.
He is a little. . .immature at times, Jorian thought.
Is something wrong with him?Elyza wondered. Is that why he is still unmarried? Then, after a momentary pause, she thought, My daughter would marry him in a heartbeat. Then again, he would have to be pretty desperate to marry her. She is rather unbecoming.
I scoffed. Desperate? I am not desperate.
Despite what my mother said, I didn”t need a wife. I was still young. Sure, when my mother was my age, she was already engaged to my father. My grandparents were even younger than my parents were when they married.
They all had it easy, though. They found the ones whom their souls sang for, the ones who enhanced not only their gifts but their lives as well.
They found their soul bonds.
I still had yet to find mine.
To be happy, I needed more than a marriage out of convenience and politics. I needed the connection. And with my ability, I didn”t see that happening any time soon.
My mother set her teacup down and stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. ”The advisors have agreed. Tonight, you find a wife. You are to wed by the end of the year.”
”By the end of the year? But what about?—”
My mother shook her head. ”It has been decreed. Either you will choose, or we will.” She waved a hand in the air, the movement delicate and light. ”Rosalina is a nice girl, and the two of you have been off and on for nearly half a decade now.”
I blinked. ”Rosalina and I are not soul bonds, Mother. You know that.”
My mother sighed. ”A soul bond can appear at any time. Perhaps it is already there. Maybe that is why you two keep ending up with each other.” She rounded the table and placed a hand on my shoulder. ”We all wish to find our soul bond, Fynneares, but some are not as lucky as others. View it as a blessing.”
My mother brushed her fingers across the worn, golden ring hanging from her necklace. With a sad smile, she tapped my shoulder again before taking her leave, her handmaiden following her.
The ring she wore was forged from a rare metal found beneath the sands of the Mist, a small island off the western coast of Pontia. According to the stories, the god Pontanius blessed the metal in the hopes of enhancing the connection between soul bonds.
However, my mother was right. Not everyone found their soul bond. Some never did, and they were said to live happy lives, nevertheless. Even those who did find their soul bond weren”t guaranteed an eternity of happiness.
Soul bonds were once-in-a-lifetime connections, but losing a soul bond was said to be as painful as shedding a piece of one’s heart.
Still, I wanted that connection, craved it.
When you are gifted with the curse of hearing everyone”s thoughts, it is too easy to discover your partner”s true motive. I didn”t wish to be with someone who wanted me for only my name or crown. I wanted a deeper connection, something unbreakable and overpowering. Something that proved that the relationship wasn”t some farce or display of power.
I swallowed. ”Jorian?”
My attendant stepped forward, hands folded behind his back. His hair had grayed over the years. He was nearing sixty years old but was as quick as ever and even more persistent than before. ”Yes, Your Highness?”
I twirled the remnants of the tea. ”Grab me some whiskey, will you?”
”But—”
”Jorian,” I said, cutting him off, ”I don”t need to hear it from you too.”
”Very well, Your Highness.”
Footsteps disappeared out of the room. I leaned against the couch and threw my arm over my eyes. There was already plenty of pressure on tonight, but now I needed to find a wife, too?
Fuck me.