Chapter 5 Aldric
Chapter five
Aldric
He burst out of the sitting room, ignoring the startled stares from his kirei’s Queensguard, and set off down the corridor. Leaving her there to stew in her own stupidity.
He didn’t know where he was going.
He had no destination in mind. No purpose.
What purpose did he serve here anyway?
None. None at all. He was but her pet bogeyman. A blade she wished to brandish at her enemies. A tool for her to use and toss aside once their transaction was concluded.
Ridiculous woman. Prideful woman.
If she wanted to die needlessly, he most certainly wasn’t about to stop her.
Calix materialized beside him in the next moment, easily keeping pace. Thankfully, the former bard held his tongue for once. His Son was smart enough to know he didn’t need conversation right now.
He needed to get away from her.
He needed to hit something. Hard.
“I’ll round up the boys for a spar,” Calix drawled, shattering the heavy silence between them. And that was that.
Aldric merely grunted in reply.
His mind whirled, replaying every detail from his moments with Seraphina.
The way she had rested her hand on him and stroked his sleeve while dealing with her peacock.
The scent of her latest perfume—plums this time rather than vanilla.
The sight of her already pale face blanching further when he showed her that pamphlet.
The cold dismissal in her tone when she ordered him to Arlund anyway, despite his misgivings. Despite his knowledge that her list of allies was growing thinner by the day.
“I need you,” she had claimed that day in the throne room.
Well, he certainly saw just how far that need went now.
Jaw clenched, he pressed onward and stepped out into the courtyard. Into that damp Elmorian chill. Why did he care? What difference did her chances of survival make to him?
But he already knew the answer to those questions.
And it had nothing at all to do with the fact that Seraphina de la Croix was soon to be his wife. Nor that she was the prettiest woman he had ever seen despite her utterly infuriating personality.
Like it or not, their fates were bound now. If she died in this war, so too would he. And he wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. Not until he had finally reclaimed the throne his father had denied him when old King Warwick struck him from the House Hargrave family tree.
And that was it. That was the only reason he cared about his kirei’s well-being.
Seraphina had ignited that long-dormant fire within his soul again the moment she had promised to support his claim, to back him in overthrowing his little brother, Edmund.
And it was a fire that refused to be quenched. Not now. Not until Edmund and his viperous mother, Charlotte, were driven from Drakmor once and for all.
Not until the throne of his forefathers was finally his.