Chapter 27
After I’ve discharged my duties for the day, aklos escort me away from the scholarly precinct, and it’s to my shame I don’t figure out where I’m headed until I’m entering the queen’s private chambers. The resplendent tea room. And, waiting before an elegantly laid table, Queen Veronica.
My old friend. Someone I played drakopagon with. Talked to about my frustrations with Father. Secretly practiced vitalian spells on . . .
Once such a pivotal part of my life. A thought of her would refill me with energy, would add a bounce to my step.
My feet drag as I cross the room.
Too much has happened, and I haven’t been a part of it. Too much has happened, and she hasn’t been a part of it.
Even in this royal city, even after the shock of seeing her the first time during the wyvern attack, she’s only been vaguely in my mind. An afterthought. Behind massive tomes of vitalian knowledge. Behind daydreams of a future life with Nicostratus. Behind Quin’s annoyed and annoying quirked brows.
What a friend I am.
She smiles, lips lifting, like she doesn’t share this guilt.
Tea streams neatly into a cup and she slides it to the space next to her. Even surrounded by regal splendour, her eyes sparkle. The warmth in her eyes has me swallowing.
“Forgive me,” I say, and embrace her. “It’s taken me too long.”
She laughs and hugs me back. “Sit, sit. Tell me everything. How you got here, how you came to be close to the prince. To my husband. How is your family doing? Oh, I have things to tell you, too. It’s all quite startling.
How have so many years passed so quickly?
” She sighs and urges me into the seat beside her.
“What’s wrong with your legs? The aklas are whispering. ”
“Whispering?”
“I’ve been beside myself with anticipation. Why haven’t you healed yourself?”
I stare at my knees. “To reflect on my actions.”
“Remember to forgive yourself, too,” she says, and I wonder if this is blanket forgiveness, like she’s discerned my guilt and wants me to lay it aside. What a friend she is. “This is your favourite, I had it brought from Hinsard. Drink up. Keep talking.”
Over the delicate tea, I find tendrils of our old ‘us’ and grab on to them. We share the highs and lows of the last years and drink tea in awkward spaces of silence.
He has a wife.
After another silence, aklos inform Veronica dinner will soon be arriving, and her son is brought to her.
A smartly dressed four-year-old enters, following an akla obediently. The fear the boy had during the wyvern attack is masked under polite smiles and good manners—I can’t help but see a young version of the king.
He has a son.
I abruptly stand, wish them a lovely family dinner, and despite stiff and aching legs charge into the courtyard. It’s quiet today. So quiet, memories fill the spaces between shivering plum leaves. Screeching wyverns, blood.
Two brothers fighting to protect their people. One another.
My legs give way and I plonk onto a bench under a tree. I close my eyes briefly on a shudder and reopen them, thankful for a squabbling rustle above. A flash of movement amidst foliage. A golden dove.
It flaps its wings frantically, squawking as it struggles to free itself.
I spring to my feet, swallowing a wince of pain, and climb the tree towards the molten gold plumage. Its wings are caught in a web of thin branches.
I slip, palms grazing the bark to find purchase.
I hiss at the pain and jerk my head around at a gentle tutting.
Prince Nicostratus, arms folded, looking up at me.
“I have to be the envy of all.” He leaps into the tree with easy, lazy grace, until his face is level with mine.
“I’ve won the biggest heart in the kingdom. ”
I stare. How sincere he is. How kind. How gentle.
There couldn’t be a single female or other-oriented soul in the land who would not see what a wonderful man this is.
He has to be the epitome of what one desires.
There’s no sharpness here, no cutting edge.
No gaze that dissects me, no words that leave me reeling.
Nicostratus is soft, and safe, and everything I deserve.
This is what true romance feels like. This is why I’ve held on so tightly to my heart—so I can give it away to whom I choose. A man who took in a struggling young vespertine; who stayed by his mother’s side in her last days. A man who has always smiled at me.
My limbs are trembling and I lean into a forked branch, extending a hand towards the stuck bird. “Free it for me?”
The dove flaps wildly as Nicostratus’s hands work to free it. For a moment, I envy its simplicity—it knows what it wants, fights against the branches holding it back. I force my hands to steady and grip the branch. I know what I want too. Don’t I?
The dove whooshes through the air, two of its loosened feathers fluttering to the courtyard.
Yes, this is it. This is love. This is as light as a heart can ever feel. Isn’t it? My stomach twists, but I shove the feeling aside. Love isn’t complicated—it’s safe, kind, steady. Nicostratus is all of these things. He’s everything I should want. Everything I do want.
Whenever Nicostratus takes a step in my direction, I’ll take a step in his.
He picks up one of the feathers and I pivot to the other side of the tree after the other. My hands shake as I pick it up.
Love.
Yes. I couldn’t be more sure.
The feather grazes my other hand, a teasing tickle that sends an unexpected shiver through me. Excitement, surely. Not anything else.
My hand shakes as I press the feather into the soil, grounding myself in this choice. My choice. I let my wish take shape for true love, for a future unclouded by piercing stares and impossible standards. A future with Nicostratus, with nothing else but his steady kindness.
Nicostratus peeks at me and I force myself to meet his eyes.
I smile. “What did you wish for?”
He laughs. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
A breeze bends our feathers as if to blow them into the queen’s residence. “Do you think they’ll come true if we steal these back? They’re so pretty—”
He gently smacks my outstretching hand and laughs. “Let’s not risk it.”
I gulp and pull him to the bench, where I carefully roll up his sleeves to bruised skin.
My stomach takes a dive. This is my fault.
I can’t look at his face, but I feel his gaze on mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“The risk you took was touching.”
“I should’ve been more careful. I hate that they did this to you.”
“Will it make you feel better if I tell you they got swift comeuppance?”
I jerk my head up.
“My brother swept in the next morning for a spot inspection. Interestingly, every redcloak that’s ever laid a hand on me was found guilty of breaking one rule or another. Fifty lashes each, in front of the men.”
My gaze finally darts towards the queen’s residence. “Quin did that?”
“There’s nothing he hasn’t done or won’t do for me.”
He pulls me half onto his lap and I fold against his firm muscles and breathe him in. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“Family dinner.”
At the mention, we hear the joyous cry of the little prince in the distance.
“I should let you get in there,” I say, shifting, and he tightens his hold.
“I could steal an hour before dinner a couple of times of a week . . .”
My heart thumps. “Really?” I squirm in his arms to look at his smiling face. “Would you teach me to make a shield? Could you take me and Florentius to the other island?”
“Only my brother or the duke can issue bead-passes for that.” Oh. “But I can help you to defend yourself.”
I find his armband, and kiss it. And kiss it again, because . . . love.
“Cael? Did you hear me?”
I shake off my contemplative frown and look over the garden table at Veronica, dressed in plum—to reference the plum trees surrounding us, swollen with ripening fruits. She is beautiful, with a fragrance to match. Fit for . . . the queen she is.
She picks up a teapot to pour. “Every time we have tea, you’re distracted.”
“Forgive me,” I say, turning all my attention to her forgiving smile. I hand her a spoon. “Whack me with this next time.”
She laughs, like the tinkling of fine crystal. “Is something the matter?”
I rub my temples. “Between health checks and studying,”—and revelling in these deep feelings for Nicostratus—“I barely get a moment to dwell on other thoughts.”
She smiles into a sip. “You’re at peace to think with me.”
“You’ve always offered calm and insight.”
“Flatterer.”
I smirk and say cheekily, “You think I’ll get in trouble with the king?”
“I think you are in trouble with the king.”
I jerk back in my seat. “What?”
“I’m not sure why, but when he watches you and Nicostratus practice—”
“He’s been watching us?”
“Whenever he comes to visit his son, he observes you both, frowns, and leaves abruptly. Something about you bothers him.”
I swallow. “He’s very protective of his brother. He wants to be sure I won’t get him in trouble.”
Veronica cocks her head and hums. As if she’s aware of my role in the last time Nicostratus got hurt. “I’m sure you won’t intend to.” Her gaze absorbs mine like she’s piecing me together, bit by bit, trying to get a clear picture of all the possible outcomes I might have now I’m back in her life.
My stomach tenses.
She smiles at me, too brightly. “Nicostratus speaks of you with a fondness I haven’t seen in him in years. Constantinos? Well, let’s say you bring out his sharper edges. He’s protective of his brother in ways most don’t understand, and you . . . you’ve added more concerns.”
I gulp down the last of my tea.
She looks up, a sparkle in her gaze. “They’re both good people. They mean well. They tell me everything about you.”
“Including clinging to the king’s leg at bath time?”
“Including that.”
I croak, adding a laugh that feels feigned. “I can never look you in the eye again.”