Chapter 25 The King’s Betrayal #2
“Did you know? Before all of this, who I was to you?” I braved to ask.
“I had my suspicions,” he admitted before continuing to say, “I have never felt this way about a woman before. I spent my life looking up to my father. My parents’ marriage was strong, built on loyalty and love.
When my mother died, a part of him died too.
And when that happened, I think we all tried to move on, but we were only pretending. None of us ever really did.”
My heart broke for him as he started to bear his soul to me.
“My father, without his anchor, lived in constant fear that something would trigger the rage,” Atlas said quietly, his voice raw around the edges. He moved to retake his place next to me, his face one of deep thought, as if he could see his past playing on repeat.
“What happened to her?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his gaze falling to the firelight.
“I was away, leading my father’s armies on campaign.
By the time I returned, I’d already heard the news.
” His jaw tightened. “I threw myself into doing whatever was necessary to protect our people after that, pushed my men harder, because standing still meant thinking about what I’d lost. What he’d lost. I saw what it did to him, how he decayed without her, and I suppose that’s what made me afraid to even try to find my own anchor. ”
“Could there be others you could have chosen?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as the fear of his answer clung to me.
“No, there is only one. And the irony that I would have never found her if it hadn’t been for the Rift isn’t lost on me.”
I blushed before taking his hand and squeezing it.
“Then let us be thankful that something good came out of all the chaos and heartache.”
He nodded, a deep appreciation in his beautiful face.
“The most terrifying thing about love…” he said, meeting my eyes, “…Is the loss. That’s what my father told me after my mother died.
Nobody ever learned what truly happened to her.
But I watched him grow bitter, day after day, until the man he had been was gone.
Yet even through all that pain, through all the emotional ruin, he remained a good king. For his people, at least.”
I hesitated, my next words careful.
“I heard what the witch said.”
“Yes,” he murmured, his voice darkening. “That certainly didn’t help with the rage.”
“You have a brother,” I noted quietly.
He winced at the mention, his jaw flexing.
“Had a brother,” he corrected coldly. “A man who is now dead to me… and very soon will be dead in the physical sense as well.”
I released a weighted breath, unable to imagine what he must be going through.
“She might have been lying,” I offered gently, though the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.
“That’s the thing,” he replied, his tone low and certain. “I would have doubted her had she still been bound by flesh, capable of deceit. But wraiths cannot lie. Their souls are too corrupted to bear falsehood. It taints what remains of them.”
My stomach turned.
“That was her soul?”
He nodded slowly.
“What was left of it. A twisted version. I don’t know which God she sold it to, but it was already rotting from within. And what she said, Alexandra, unfortunately, was the truth.”
I swallowed hard.
“Did you ever suspect him? Did you have any idea that your brother could do something like this?”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes distant, lost somewhere far beyond the trees.
“We grew up together, Lazaros and I,” he said at last. “We were typical boys, fighting one moment and laughing the next. He was always less serious than I was. More reckless. More charming. He loved the attention of others, while I sought solitude. But despite our differences, I never imagined he could be capable of treachery.”
He paused, his voice growing quieter.
“Perhaps I should have seen it sooner. But I always thought that easy going persona was because he knew he would never bear the weight of the throne.”
“Did he ever give any sign that he wanted to become king? That he was jealous or bitter?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“No. That’s just it. There was nothing. No indication.
He hid it so well. He was never close with our father, though he adored our mother.
I always had the impression he blamed our father for her death.
He took it harder than anyone. After she was gone, Lazaros changed.
He became quiet, withdrawn. Meanwhile, I buried myself in duty.
The responsibility of the throne was always there, whispering in my ear, pushing me to do more.
” He sighed, his eyes distant in the firelight.
“In fact, I think our father was relieved when Lazaros told us he wanted to travel. Those last few years, I barely saw him. And now it all makes sense. Because…”
“Because what?” I pressed gently.
“Because he had only just returned from his travels,” Atlas said, his voice darkening.
“Now I know why he came back, and what he was doing while he was away. He must have been learning the dark arts. How else could he have infected our people, created the Rift, caused a diversion to get me out of the way?”
I felt the chill in his words settle into my bones.
“He knew he could not defeat me on the battlefield,” Atlas continued.
“So, he never had to step foot on it. He planned everything. He knew once I realized there was a threat to our people, I would pursue those responsible. He predicted my every move. And now he sits upon the throne that was never meant for him.”
I shifted so that I could hug him side on, wanting desperately to offer comfort.
“It will be okay,” I said softly.
“We’ll open the Rift, and…” My voice faltered, thick with emotion. “You’ll go home. You’ll retake your throne. You’ll stop your brother, and…” The rest of the sentence died in my throat. I didn’t know what came next, what would happen once he was gone, and by the look in his eyes, neither did he.
After a long, quiet moment, I said, “For now, that’s enough. We’ll figure out the rest when we have to.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze softening.
“For now,” he echoed, his thumb brushing the back of my hand as he looked me in the eyes. Then as his lips descended onto my own, he whispered…
“I’ll take that.”