Chapter Twenty-Eight- Duty
My heart stops and I feel the color drain from my face. I don’t even get to ask why before citizens are rushing in demanding answers from the ‘Serpent King.’
Thorne’s panicked gaze meets mine. That’s why he didn’t want me to kill the King, to kill Aleksander.
I killed the only other Shadowfall that would fight more for the right to rule.
How could I have known the crown would fall to me?
The Shadowfalls were blessed to reign from the time that Avane set it into motion.
It appears that the truth to conquering Netherhelm was kept under wraps for centuries to ensure only those in the Shadowfall line remained in power.
I have conquered Netherhelm and taken a crown that has lived in the Shadowfall bloodline for centuries. And it wasn’t even my intention.
I look to Thorne because while his father is Frostguardian, Queen Ivy was still Shadowfall blood, as the cousin of the king.
Thorne could fight this. He should fight this.
As if he knows what I’m thinking, he gently shakes his head ‘no’.
As the last living male heir to Frostguard, that throne can claim him first.
“I will give King Zephyr his audience tomorrow,” Thorne announces.
He drags me to my feet and I’m forced to lean on him more than I’d like to.
Voices clammer around us, demanding answers for the damage to their homes, for the war with Frostguard, for the Black Lanterns amongst us. A million more answers are demanded of me but I don’t have them.
“The Black Lanterns will finish securing the kingdom. Any nobility or servants found loyal to King Dreven are to be taken to the dungeons. I will address the Kingdom tomorrow,” I try to square my shoulders, to exude confidence.
Reese nods at me.
“Where’s Blaine?” He asks of Elm.
“He tried to kill Thorne, by order of the King,” I shake my head.
There was a moment when I thought Elm was on our side. But it’s clear to me the King influenced him otherwise.
“He’s dead,” Thorne adds.
Reese nods in understanding but his grief is there.
“I knew this would come with lives lost,” Reese looks around. He sees the carnage and the fallen soldiers, knights that would not bow to the Black Lanterns by his decree. This loss is one that will be felt for centuries, their names recorded in the annals of history.
“I’ll see to securing the Kingdom tonight. Focus on healing. Both of you,” Reese claps my back.
There’s a sense of understanding between us for the first time, a bond deeper than ever before. I see in him that he is ready to serve Netherhelm and help me usher in this new age.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
Thorne leads me to his bed chambers. His hand rests in mine and we earn looks from nobility and common folk that we pass. But I don’t care. I need him close to me, I need to hear his voice, and kiss his lips. I need the sweet serenity of him to heal me as we prepare for whatever tomorrow brings.
As soon as we enter his bed chambers, Thorne grips my arm tightly and whispers in my ear, “I cannot leave you.”
I turn to him and hold his face in my hands. I try to remember the cupid’s bow of his lips, how it feels to kiss him. I take in his light blue eyes, that one freckle near his right ear, and his pale skin. I relish the feel of his warmth beneath my palms more than any kill.
“I want to keep you here forever, Princeling,” I say, letting him fall into my arms as if his body is tired of being upright.
Of being brave. I hold his head to my chest and entangle my fingers in his hair while I listen to his breathing.
“I want to be selfish, I want to bury you away in my heart and keep you safe. I cannot. This has to be your choice. If you want to fight this war, we will.”
This boy has never belonged, never been cherished or loved, never had much to lose. His voice cracks as he whispers, “No kingdom or crown is worth losing you.”
He winds his hands in my blood soaked tunic.
“We don’t have to decide now. We need rest,” I kiss his forehead.
Bathing is sluggish, a thing of necessity so that we may focus on healing. Still, we ensure that we are clean. I scrub him gently as we sit in the bath. He returns the favor and I relish the feeling of sharing the hot water with him, knowing that every bath after this will pale in comparison.
We lay in bed together and Thorne rests his head on my chest, my fingers splayed against his skin. The cool air from the open window blows over us and I watch the goosebumps form on his body.
“Have you heard of the legend of Phoenix and Rigel?” Thorne asks softly. His fingers trace circles on my hip bone.
“King Phoenix?"
“Yes, King Dreven’s great grandfather,” he answers.
“I know he was one of the more peace-oriented Shadowfall Kings.”
“Yes but that’s because of Rigel Lomatré, the man he loved and the man he killed,” Thorne sighs and turns over onto his back.
He stares up at the ceiling where the room is growing darker due to the setting sun. I take in his eyes that are heavy with exhaustion, his damp hair, and soft breathing. His wounds are still stitching themselves together like mine.
“Why did he kill him?” I stretch out my tired limbs, sending them much needed blood flow.
“They were found out. Phoenix’s right to the crown was threatened,” Thorne shakes his head. “He signed Rigel’s death warrant the next day.”
“He what?” I sit up. This earns a small grin from Thorne who tugs me back down beside him. It’s my turn to lay on his chest, to listen to his heart.
“This forced Rigel underground. He later headed an army of rebels against the kingdom. The two met on the battlefield.” Thorne’s fingers find my earlobe. It sends chills through me but I relish the small comforting gesture and focus on his voice.
“Their rage was said to be unrivaled. They cut down anybody who stood in their way, just to get to one another…” Thorne continues. I grip his hip as his long fingers move to caress my neck, the action maddening.
“And Phoenix really did it? He killed him?” I tried to imagine killing Thorne now that I loved him and found that I simply couldn’t. I knew what it was like to kill him already; I had suffered that loss long before my mind allowed me to accept that I loved him.
“Yes and no. He cast a spell. He turned his lover to stone,” Thorne sighs and turns into me.
We’re face to face and we entangle our legs gently.
His bare chest is so pale compared to mine, the color of porcelain.
His scars are healing, but they only add to his beauty.
The siphons on his hands glow when he touches my chest.
“To stone?” I inhale a sharp breath.
“And he kept him,” Thorne whispers. His hand slides down my chest to my abdomen, teasingly. “But he couldn’t live with himself. He tried to undo it,” he frowns.
I grip his wrist as his hand wanders lower, calling my cock to attention. I want to hear how the story ends, how he perceives it, why he wanted to tell it.
“He failed?” I ask.
“He did. So, Phoenix immortalized him. He named Rigel a demigod of Xeusis and built palaces in his name. He had art made, statues carved, an entire palace constructed in his honor. Legends say he went mad, others say his love and loss made him docile.”
“What do you think?” I ask, enjoying the stillness of this moment. I run my thumb down his cheek and he kisses the pad of it.
“I’ve heard him called a monster for what he did to Rigel. But I’ve always wondered… What if he just couldn’t bear the idea of a world without him in it? Of killing him? What if keeping him in stone was better than losing him entirely?”
He pauses thoughtfully and I release his wrist. He pulls my hips forward, moving me closer to him.
“I don’t think it was right. I’m just saying I understand what he felt. I know the kind of love that drives you mad.” Thorne stiffens at his bold admission.
Then he kisses me, taking all the air from my lungs.
“Would you turn me to stone, Prince?” I smile and push him onto his back so I can straddle him.
His blue eyes shine up at me and I am so far gone. I’d die a thousand deaths to have him looking at me this way, full of love and desire. Kissing him is like giving in to the worst addiction without fear of withdrawal. It is the end of all things and the world made anew.
“I would not turn you to stone as I do not wish to go mad like Phoenix,” he breathes and kisses me again.
“I have already gone mad,” I confess. I try not to think of anything outside of this moment, anything besides his hands on my skin.
But I know tomorrow will come and either I will lose him or a war will commence.
I push those thoughts down, down, down. Our bodies connect in a symphony of pleasure and heat. I melt into him and the night seems to sigh around us.
I am greedy for him and he doesn’t hold back.
He wants this to distract him from his loss.
He screams out his anguish as I bury myself in him.
He’s showing off with the way he’s arching his back and pushing against me.
He lets out the most delicious sounds as if he knows how to drive me to the edge.
He is purposefully making this memorable, ensuring that this cannot be forgotten.
So that this night, this love is not buried, come what may.
I mark him with my teeth, my nails. He returns in kind until we collapse in a mess of sweat, blood, and heaving breaths.
And fuck, is he beautiful like this. His irises blown wide, his hair messy, his lips swollen.
I want to take him over and over again. I want to capture him this way and keep it always.
“I love you,” he buries his face in the crook of my neck. He trembles with the weight of the truth. Of course I knew, he’s practically said it already. But those three words are so beautiful from his lips and to feel them against my neck is the most precious thing I’ve ever known.
“I love you, too,” is all I can say because nothing else seems worthy.