Chapter 19 #4
He watched her go, wishing he could simply run her down, grab her in his arms, and kiss her until she forgave him.
If she were still spitting fire and acid his way, he might have.
But with this new quiet that had settled on her, he feared such a thing would make him irredeemable in her eyes.
The weight of bitter disappointment lingered in her gaze.
Now was not the time for passion, but caution. He could not afford to spook her.
“That was downright civil,” Polydorus said.
“Don’t joke,” Nireus groaned. “That was a bloody miracle.”
Given his spear bearer had joined him on the interrupted journey to Lord Vettias, he knew precisely how frosty things had gotten between Theron and his wife.
“Did you mean what you said? You don’t believe her mad anymore?” Polydorus asked.
“If you had seen what I had, you would have no doubts left. The spirits were especially angry in the last town we visited. She was under the stoa when the columns began cracking and the roof was caving in. She didn’t just halt the destruction, she reversed it.
By the time she was through, not only was the damage repaired, the structure looked freshly erected, paint and all.
News of it will spread like wildfire,” Theron replied.
And with it, any hope of keeping her magic a secret from Flora would go up in smoke.
“Then the vision she showed us in the throne room, of Drakon and the monstrosities?” Polydorus asked, clearly unsure what conclusion he was meant to draw.
“She travelled through time to warn us what it would become.”
His advisors paled.
“Merciful Triad…” Canthus said.
“That aspect stays between us. Triple her guard. Only your most trusted. Flora will want her back at any cost if she learns. She may even decide to kill her outright.”
“Why in the Loom would you imply she was sane then? At least before, no one thought her especially important. Now, people will begin to wonder—to suspect the truth!” Polydorus pinched his brow as he paced.
“Because I mean it when I said that she is still deciding whether or not to forgive me, and restoring her credibility is something I have to do to earn her back.”
“You are a king! It should be enough that you restore that credibility with your trusted inner circle,” Polydorus snapped.
Before, Theron would have thought the same.
“And yet it is not.”
“This is going to make things very complicated—and dangerous.” Nireus frowned.
“We’ll be lucky if we’re not inundated with spies and assassins crossing our borders to get to her, to say nothing of those currently in Aureum,” Canthus said.
“I am not unaware of that.” Theron pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do what you can. It is my duty to earn her forgiveness before she decides we’re not worth saving.” The grim looks of his advisors did nothing to instil confidence. “You think I can’t?”
“You’ve not been married long, Your Majesty. Perhaps it would be best to consult Myrina,” Canthus replied diplomatically, rubbing the back of his neck.
Heat scalded the tips of his ears as shame tore up his innards. It was one thing to know he’d fucked up, and another entirely for his advisors to confirm it. Yet as humiliating as it was, it was a bare fraction of what he’d forced Aurora to endure.
“Send word I would like to meet with her. Is there anything else I should know before I retire?” he asked Polydorus.
“Some whispers that the dualists are planning something big. The last time such whispers crossed my desk, they tried to attack the palace.”
“Nireus, you know what to do.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And Polydorus?”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Bring in the queen’s throne. I will leave it up to my wife if she wishes to use it.”
Polydorus nodded.
“We will need to prepare ourselves for Lady Ino to turn on you, Your Majesty.”
“It has been a long time coming,” Theron sighed.
He dismissed his advisors. Aurora didn’t join him for dinner but sent a note thanking him for the invitation.
He ate alone and let himself hope that this was a sign of progress, that in protecting Epicasta and restoring Aurora’s credibility, she might view him as slightly less of a villain.
As he slipped into bed, he wondered if she would sit atop the queen’s throne when he presented it to her before court.
Would that soften her further? Or had she simply decided that politeness was the best compromise she could make given he’d shattered both her heart and her trust over and over?
Perhaps Myrina would know.
Or perhaps he truly had ruined the gift the goddesses had bestowed on him with his cowardice and arrogance.
Perhaps this was his punishment.
He bolted upright.
That was it.
A punishment.
His advisors would age a decade overnight when he told them what he intended.
The Theron of a year ago would have him locked away for fear he’d lost his mind.
The good king in his head was railing against the very thought, screaming that he would endanger his crown and kingdom.
But his crown and kingdom were already in danger because of his actions.
The time for putting his crown before his heart was over.
It was time to become the good man his wife needed him to be.