Chapter 40 Prince At Sea
Chapter Forty
Prince At Sea
Tristan
The waves crashed against the bow of The Emerald of Rune, the green and gold of the sails, making the water spray appear discolored.
Tristan stood at the railing, his stance wide for balance, looking out over the endless expanse of water.
They had been sailing for seven days straight.
The Morrows lay ahead, just over the horizon somewhere, and they should make port in Gleann by morning.
Tristan hadn’t been too surprised when his mother had barely acknowledged his request to travel to the Morrows.
She didn’t care what he did, as long as he provided an heir, and that was something that had never interested him.
He knew any daughter he produced would be molded into her image, to rule as she saw fit.
He never could stomach the idea of that happening.
They had never been close, him and her, but she was still his mother.
His flesh and blood. Tristan had always been closer with his father; Gods rest his soul.
Fredrick Morris had been a kind man who always found the good in everything.
Tristan had inherited his green eyes, his build, and his softness, if his mother was to be believed.
Fredrick could make anyone feel at ease around him; his laughter infectious.
Tristan had never truly known what his father had seen in his mother; they were so ill suited for one another.
Her cruelty and hatred clashed against his kindness and optimism.
Tristan was young when his father passed on, and he was forbidden to speak of him again after his death. He had never been told how he died, though he had asked many times. It was as if he had never existed at all. Life had just gone on.
The twins were nothing like Fredrick, in appearance or demeanor.
Tristan often wondered if they were truly his to begin with.
No, they had taken after their mother, their cruelty almost surpassing hers at times.
Though they were several years younger than him, Tristan had never felt any brotherly love towards them, only obligation.
He had been cleaning up their messes since they learned to walk.
He still had not gathered any evidence to dispel Erik’s claims of killing Alexandria.
Tristan’s gut told him that Erik truly believed his claim.
Their mother had been indulgent with the twins since their return, allowing them to throw lavish soirees, entertaining every whim they fancied.
Meanwhile, she had Luther fueling the fire of their supposed attack in Varon, spreading rumors in just the right way, so that they weren’t traced directly back to her.
The growing unrest between the provinces was becoming dangerous, toeing the line of war.
Rivka and Ellis' sudden disappearance had created a huge rift.
She was so beloved that the provinces were all placing blame on one another, demanding that she be returned safely.
To make matters worse, with Alexandria no longer leading the Recovery Battalions, the attacks and plundering had increased tenfold.
Tristan had to find Rivka. And Ellis. He just hoped that he wasn’t too late, that he would get to be there when his child took their first breath. It was his own doing that put him in this spot. He had ensured the information on their whereabouts was withheld from him.
His thoughts drifted back to the last conversation he had with Ellis, in his sitting room, the morning after the Treaty Ball.
Ellis had been so angry with him, and he didn’t blame him one bit.
He was disgusted with himself. He should have known that his mother was scheming again.
However, he had never considered that she was capable of such vile and despicable deceit.
He recognized he was as much of a victim in this as Rivka, but he blamed himself, nonetheless.
The argument with his mother and Luther, where they had confessed to drugging them to force them into sex, had changed something in him.
He had been livid with her. The pulsing anger that had built inside him barrelled alongside his incessant self loathing, eroding the false security of the Rune name.
It had been his breaking point. His line in the sand.
He was done with Vivian, mother or not. He wanted nothing more to do with Rune, but he had to be smart, to play her game just right.
Tristan would not let her win this time.
He hadn’t quite figured out her long game yet, but he would, and when he did, he would do whatever it took to stop her.
Tristan would forever remember the look on Ellis’ face when he burst into his room that morning, ramming him into the wall.
Tristan had let him. Had wanted to feel the bite of pain from Ellis’ fist, slamming into his face.
He deserved no less for the harm his family had caused, the harm he had caused.
It devastated him to see such hatred shimmering in Ellis’ eyes, to know that it was him it was directed toward.
Tristan had held on to the hope that as they grew into adulthood, they might regain the friendship they had lost as teenagers, but it seemed as if fate had yet again intervened, destroying any chance of reconciliation.
Too much lay between them. Ellis was a good man.
Funny, yet level headed. It was why Rivka chose him as her king consort.
Hopefully, they will all be able to do this parenting thing together.
That is, if they allowed him to be a part of their lives at all. He couldn’t fathom that thought.
When he and Ellis had last spoken, they had come to a truce of sorts.
They had agreed to do what was best for Rivka and the babe, no matter the cost. Tristan had been uncertain to what extremes his mother would go to find the child and carry out her plans, so he had demanded to be left in the dark.
He didn’t want her to be able to use him to hurt Rivka ever again.
He had tried to stay away, to convince himself that he had made the right choice.
But he couldn’t, he was too selfish. The thought of his child coming into this world, without both of its parents there- he wasn’t strong enough to endure that.
The guilt ate at him. He needed to be a better man.
A present one. He would stand by them, even if they didn’t wish him to.
So, here he was, sailing to the Morrows, searching, praying that his instincts were correct, and he would find them.
They had to be there; he wouldn’t accept any other fate.