Chapter 35 Rhea
Chapter Thirty-Five: Rhea
“You,” I gasp, forgetting everything in favor of the anger that simmers precariously beneath my skin.
At this moment, I don’t care about the trouble it might cause me, all I feel is the rush of that burning fury at the man who had tricked me.
Who had put me on a path to more pain and sadness.
And for what? What did he gain from doing so?
“Now, darling, be nice to our guest. We do owe our reunion to him, after all.”
I grip the armrests, my upper lip peeling away from my teeth.
“I thought you hated mages. I thought they were to be executed if they were ever found in your kingdom.” My uncle blames the mages for my parents’ deaths.
I know he hates the fact that Nox is one, that he had been bested by one snooping about his kingdom right under his nose.
That I had fallen in love with one. That I am one.
“You are correct,” he answers, holding out his hand for the servant to give him more wine.
The man grabs one of the pitchers containing crimson and rushes over to fill his cup.
“But when you fled your tower—when you left me—you made me very desperate.” Despite his drunken stupor, King Dolian’s posture is perfect, the hand not holding his wine slipping into his pocket.
“I would do anything to get you back, even listen to Simon when he suggests that working with a mage to infiltrate their kingdom might be our best bet.”
My attention goes to Simon and the smug arrogance surrounding him as he stands on the other side of Stephan. “The king is wise, and he knows when to keep his enemies close. As luck would have it, we had already captured Stephan entering our kingdom.”
“Lucky, indeed,” I hiss.
Simon’s eyes narrow, but it is King Dolian who continues. “Stephan is smart, in spite of where he was born. He accepted the deal we offered him. In exchange for his life—for his freedom—he would help us get you back home.”
Home. How I hate that word coming from him. As if he could ever know what it is. Turning to Stephan, I ask, “Why?”
He shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “The Daxel family line has wrongfully been on the throne for far too long. They lack leadership. They lack the gumption to put the people first.” His eyes take on a darker note, pulling from a memory locked somewhere deep within him.
“They act as if the Mage Kingdom is exempt from any consequences.”
“And which of their actions are so horrible you deem them worthy of stealing the prince’s betrothed?
” Careless. I know better than to thoughtlessly throw those words around, so I’m not surprised when the back of the king’s hand cracks across my face.
I lay my hand over my stinging cheek, my eyes bouncing to Xander’s for a moment.
Bright anger glows there, but I know he can’t act. Neither of us can.
“You were never his, Rhea.”
“You might not have realized it, trapped as you were within their very clutches,” Stephan says, not quite interrupting the king, but close enough to it that Simon sends him a disapproving look.
“But for those living outside of Galdr, life is quite different. Sure, King Sadryn doesn’t rule with cruelty.
But neither does he rule with a spine. I had already agreed to help King Dolian when I learned that the prince was going to defy the council and marry you—an outsider—anyway.
That his parents supported it.” He shakes his head.
“Returning you back to your own kingdom was the right thing to do.”
“I am mage!” I shout, slamming my hand onto the table. “That kingdom—”
“Your Majesty, we have an early morning tomorrow,” Xander interrupts, perhaps saving me from myself. From earning yet another slap. The king sighs as he brings his glass to his lips. His face contorts, gaze snapping from the chalice to the pitchers in the corner.
“This wine is…” He looks to the servant in the corner.
“Well, this has been a delight, but I’m exhausted from traveling, and I’d like to get some sleep before I do it all again.” No one says anything as Stephan leaves, but his exit draws the king’s unfocused attention from the servant as he looks instead to Xander.
“Send a note to Commander Valence tomorrow,” he says as he stumbles towards the archway that leads back to the hall, “I want the castle ready for our arrival and the guards on alert should anything happen before then. Simon, walk with me.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Xander answers, adding, “I’ll return Lady Rhea back to her room.”
I stand, and catch Simon’s gaze, letting the anger simmering within slip out. “Shouldn’t you be following your king?”
Simon merely smirks, darkness hidden within it. “Enjoy your evening, Lady Rhea. May your night be free of that which haunts you.” He doesn’t even look at Xander as he leaves.
“What the fuck was that supposed to mean?” Xander asks under his breath.
I shake my head, my thoughts tumbling relentlessly as we walk.
No part of me believes the things Stephan claimed because none of it makes any sense.
The Daxel family is beloved by the people, nothing in all the interactions I had seen proved anything different.
Nothing except for the council. But Stephan had also spoken of those who did not live in Galdr, and I had not traveled outside of the spaces that Nox took me to.
Gods, and I am supposed to be their queen?
I had not made any effort to get to know the people that I would be ruling over, either by blood or by marriage.
It is another crack in my armor exposed—one that the king, Simon, and Stephan had taken advantage of so easily.
“Rhea.” Xander’s fingers gently tug on my elbow, and I take in the hallway we are stopped in. When had we stopped walking? “Are you okay?”
“I—” My response gets swept away by the weight of everything that has been revealed.
By my own insecurities and the way I hate not knowing where Nox is or if he is okay.
By the crushing and relentless loneliness that somehow feels worse than when I existed in a tower with only Bella at my side.
To my absolute horror, a sob chokes it way up my throat.
I cover my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut as I turn away from Xander.
“Hey, uh, are you—” He stumbles over his words from behind me, his voice muffled from the ringing in my ears.
Stop crying. I repeat the command over and over, but I’m helpless to stop it.
I try to claw at any tether to reality that I can find, but I’m a stranger in this place.
To myself right now. There is nothing that I can anchor to because my anchor isn’t here.
He isn’t here. That leaves me bereft, smothered in the waters of my own grief and anxiety and anger.
And apparently, it is time for it all to come rushing out in front of a man I hardly know and barely trust.
My feet begin moving again, my body led by a firm but gentle hand on my shoulder. I expect to be taken to my bedroom, but as I blink away the tears that line my eyes, I’m met with the double doors that lead to the library. “What are we doing here?”
He opens one of the doors and ushers me in, pitch black greeting us until Xander pulls a small flame gem from his pocket.
“I thought you might want to be somewhere that is calm but not your room. A change of scenery, I guess.” There is a hesitancy to his answer, like he isn’t quite sure if he’s helping or hurting the situation.
“I can bring you to your room if you prefer—”
“No, a change in scenery is perfect.” He guides us to the back of the library, where we settle down between two bookcases.
Xander sits opposite me, lit by the flame gem laid by his feet.
Tilting my head back against one of the shelves, I close my eyes and force each of my breaths to be slower than the one that came before it.
The air is filled with the scent of worn leather and old paper, of ink and something earthier.
As if the dirt between the stones is somehow seeping through the cracks.
It is comforting and foreign all the same.
Xander sits with his legs extended in front of him, his ankles crossed and arms folded over his chest.
For a while—minutes or an hour, I’m unsure—we sit in the silence together.
When my heart no longer feels as if it’s trying to escape my body, I draw my knees into my chest and lay my cheek on top of them, ignoring how the movement pulls at the brand. “Thank you.”
Xander tucks his onyx hair behind his ear, shaking his head. “No need to thank me. I have experience with those kinds of… attacks.”
“Attacks?”
He blows out a breath, adjusting his position and making the armor he wears creak with the movement. “When it’s like your mind is trying to convince you to fight. That if you don’t, you’ll die. Go up in flames despite the fact that you’re sprinting from them.”
“Mine feels more like I’m drowning,” I tell him, staring off into the darkness that the flame gem doesn’t touch.
“It’s like I’m adrift in choppy waters, the current constantly trying to pull me under.
And I kick and kick, promising myself that relief is coming.
That I just need to hold on for a little while.
” The weight of Xander’s stare falls on me, but I avoid meeting it.
“But if I’m honest, I’ve been kicking for a very long time. ”
Though there is still a wild mix of emotions within me when it comes to this guard, I am grateful for the silence he offers in response to what I’ve said.
We sit for so long in the library that eventually my eyelids begin to droop and he suggests that we go.
“I will walk you to the foyer, but I should leave you there and let you make your way back alone. Just in case.”
“Right.” It would be one thing to explain that I simply couldn’t sleep and went for a walk around the residence.
It is another entirely to be caught with Xander in the middle of the night, no matter how innocuous our meeting is.
Quietly, we make our way from the library to the foyer and say goodbye.
My room is dark when I enter it, a chill in the air seeping in from the open window.
After closing it, I grab my nightgown from the armoire and head into the bathroom to wash and change, forced to look at the brand as I take off the bloodstained gauze covering it.
I pinch my lips together to ward off anymore tears as I stare at the ugly mark.
Ignoring the acknowledgment that I am forever changed by it.
Once changed, I crawl into bed and cover myself with the comforter.
Though sleep tries to draw in around the corners of my vision, I force my eyes to stay open for as long as I can.
Staring at nothing but letting my mind wander into a place that is neither here nor there but somewhere in between.
Like when I visit the Middle, except it’s my poor attempt at pretending that Nox is actually here with me.
Reality without him is almost too much to bear, but sometimes, my dreams are even worse.
At least when I am awake, I understand clearly that he isn’t here.
But in my dreams? There are moments when he is standing in front of me, those gray and silver-flecked eyes seeing me as wholly as they always have.
Where I can swear I smell autumn woods and his voice is a pleasurable thrum along my skin.
Then he’s ripped away again when my eyes open, and the surroundings of my room remind me where I am.
And yet when my eyes finally fall closed and I sink deeper into the bed, my mind goes right to him.
A beacon of my heart, his face is all I can see.
All I want to see. I tumble further, escaping to a world where it’s only him and I.
Together in a field, his lips on mine. Wrapped up in a bed, limbs tangled and breaths shared.
And, gods, I miss him so much that I don’t care that as soon as the sun hits my face through the window in the morning, the illusion will be shattered.
That the sharp pain of his loss will roll in anew, a wound healed and then cut over and over and over again.