Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Mourners had trickled out, and the remaining Corvines were more than ready to head back to their own home. Lia had managed to dump the lilies while no one was looking. She hadn’t blamed Adrian for their demise.
Down the hall from her brother’s room, Lia’s room was pristine.
It had been since the moving van left. Her endless book horde had found a home in a white wall of shelves.
She hadn’t decided whether to keep the spines arranged by color, a gentle rainbow gradient from row to row, or if her obsessive compulsiveness would kick in and demand to reorganize them by genre and author.
For the third time since her mom gave them the news.
When she shut her bedroom door after the funeral, Lia spent the first twenty minutes making sure the spines of her books were in precise alignment before changing.
Her black dress returned to its hanger in favor of cotton sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt, Lia scratched the ear of a purring Fiore.
The long-haired, black and white cat lounged on the journal Lia had left open on her bed.
The box of Norenthian treasures waited next to her.
“You, my dear, are not a bookmark,” she muttered, scooping up the cat. Lia kissed the black heart of her nose. The feline, likely sensing the emotional drainage of the day, hardly protested against settling in her lap.
Peering into the box, another drawing caught her eye.
What a miracle she had stayed inside the lines.
The continent floated in midair, the kingdom atop an enormous expanse of trees with limbs upraised.
A central mountain pierced the mist that forever clung just above the forest’s canopy, flanked on either side with smaller ridges capped in white.
Rivers flowed over the edges of the land, falling in blue lines down past the cragged earth at the base.
But her favorite part was the seas: bordered in wavy lines, the clouds were filled with all the blues the one-hundred-and-eighty-count crayon box had provided. Fish stickers dotted their surface.
Quite the artistry. She snorted, causing Fiore to leap down. Flipping the page over, Lia’s breath hitched at the familiar scrawl.
Honor, courage, truth, and justice. These were the virtues Lion Magnar and Lioness Silva—the king and queen of Norenth—strove to instill in their sons.
They impressed upon the four brothers that family was everything.
They molded their sons to be the pillars on which the kingdom would rest, for each of them played an important role in helping Norenth thrive.
Jace may be the next crowned Lion, but Kristof, Terranth, and Kacerion would help their brother rule.
She could still hear Papa asking endless questions about Kayce and his family. At the time, she’d found them annoying. She had wanted to play. Now, she would give anything for one of their world-building discussions.
Putting the drawing to the side, Lia riffled through the other pieces of Norenth snagged from the attic.
Such layers had developed when the young prince aligned with the Rangers, known for their scouting and emissary missions.
Yet the Weatherstone family was ever-present, trade equitable within Norenth’s guild economy.
Not to say underhanded dealings and mischief didn’t happen. Politics had evolved—grown up.
But Kayce was still finding his place. Still getting into trouble. Stuck. Like her.
Lia was lost to the scattered dreams encased in paper.
A strain soon pulled across her shoulder blades as she hunched over her various relics, a crick forming in her low back.
She couldn’t clear the lump that had grown to the size of a tennis ball wedged between her windpipe and esophagus.
Her headache surged, that persistent pain sharpening.
She needed more escape. And something more than smuggling heists.
Turning to her journal, she opened it and wrote.
Kayce, Aurelia knew, loathed the inauguration ball for the Lion’s Guild Council. Having reached what was considered adulthood, one would think he would have an actual say in the matter of his attendance.
Not likely. But at least he wouldn’t have to suffer alone.
“I would owe you for the rest of our lives, Aurelia,” the prince pleaded, having tracked Aurelia down at the Ranger’s Guild stables. “Just please don’t leave me alone to socialize with these people tomorrow night.”
There were eleven guilds across Norenth, each holding a seat on the Lion’s council.
Each guild’s respective members voted on who held those seats, the democratic process valued by all, especially the floating kingdom’s rulers.
A ball accompanied the ceremony, recognizing the new office holders charged with evaluating Norenth’s progress and any halts to it.
Naturally, Kayce had learned to do well in a crowd.
Aurelia rolled her eyes, brushing out Seagrove’s tangles from their last covert flight. Sea salt crusted her mane. Unfortunately, the same could be said about Aurelia’s curls. Of course, Kayce was perfectly dry. Even windswept, his hair was annoyingly perfect.
“I don’t do dances,” Aurelia retorted after letting him sweat for several quiet moments. “I don’t even know how, apart from the handful of lessons your mother wrangled us into.”
“I swear she likes you better than me. Though, you were far more successful at evasion tactics than I.” Kayce rubbed his chin before brightening. “I could teach you.”
“Like you taught me how to use a sword and ride? I didn’t know you could actually teach me something ladylike.”
His eyes narrowed. Words seemed to have left him, leaving Aurelia to wonder if the joke had been misplaced. Her stomach tightened under his assessment.
“You know, I think this whole unity thing, knowing what we know, is a farce, but…it’s important to my parents. And I want to show up for once.” He looked to the ground, raking a hand through his long, unbound hair. “Just not alone.”
Guess the family still berated him for the last two balls he had missed for some misadventure or another. Granted, she had been with him for both. But perhaps dresses and dancing instead of breeches and smuggling would be a good change.
Biting her lip, Aurelia caught his gaze and became rooted to the floor. How could she refuse? And it wasn’t like her life would be at stake this time. Just her reputation in court.
And perhaps her sanity.
Lia’s eyes burned. Her pen trembled, rereading the scene. But all she could think of was her papa. Of words he would never read, never critique. Not even saving Kayce from civilized society was enough to forget it.
That dream in the attic. She needed to see him. Like he was right in front of her.
Pain flared between her brows. It forced her to grit her teeth. The words blurred, pulsed with each beat of her heart. She screwed her eyes shut.
Breathe. Tread water.
Her head hurt.
Lia groaned, clutching her temples. Her fingers tangled in her hair.
She hated it. The move. The loss. The stupid flowers from her father. The way Marcus had looked at the door, hoping he would waltz back into their lives. The way Mom removed herself, leaving Lia to deal with everyone else while she—she was drowning.
The pain split her mind open. Shattered the mask she wore.
Lia’s face twisted into a snarl, the pain radiating down her temples, along her cheekbones. She had to get it out, but she couldn’t cry, no matter how much it hurt—
Turning, she punched the pillow. Over and over, she struck until her shoulder burned more than her dry eyes. Each punch helped with the pain. Gave it somewhere else to go. Gasping for breath, Lia slumped into the bed. An aching exhaustion dragged her to sleep.
Reaching for the other person she could never have.