Chapter 40
forty
. . .
ryker
“There you are,” Gunnar says. His eyes go wide as he takes in Raea and me in this intimate position.
Shit.
I’ve been meaning to catch up with him, and it slipped my mind that I agreed to meet before lunch to go over his training on how to carry a Hallo.
Raea’s cheeks flush as she climbs off my lap, adjusting her dress and clearing her throat. Her lips are swollen from our kiss, and her hair is a little wild from my hands. There’s something about the soft, white strands that drives me absolutely crazy.
“I think I should go,” Raea whispers.
She glances over at Gunnar, but I know she’s talking to me. I stand and pull her back in for another hug, placing a quick kiss on her hair. I don’t care if he sees. Besides, he and I have a lot to talk about.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” I promise, releasing her.
Even as she leaves, the raw essence of her lingers, every curve of her body etched into my vision, intensifying the relentless ache that has become my constant companion since she agreed to be mine. Gods, the need to claim her fully, to complete this Bond, is a torment.
Gunnar clears his throat in amusement. “So, Princess Raea, huh?”
He leans against the glass with his thumbs tucked into his pockets. He grins and wags his brows like he’s just walked in on something more than a heated kiss. “She’s a catch. I’m assuming you’re the reason she turned me down the other night?”
My eyes narrow at him as my jaw ticks. Is it acceptable to knock out a friend over your fated future wife?
That weird possessive side of me hovers like a beast waiting to pounce.
I inhale deeply, calming myself, and respond, “It’s a story I don’t have the time, nor energy, to hash out right now.
” I grab my bag and head over toward him. “We need to reschedule.”
“That’s actually what I was coming to talk to you about.” He stands, opening the door for us. “That guy…starts with a T… always with Raea.” He snaps his fingers as his eyes close.
“Tate?” I offer.
“That’s the one.” His eyes open as we turn to head for the dining hall. “Anyway, he said you might still be here. Off-topic, though, I actually need to head home for the week and check on my father. He got hurt after he hit his head on the boat. I guess he’s been having severe headaches.”
We both turn left, following the steps up to the bridge that takes us to the dining hall.
“Okay. I can speak with Chancellor Xara and inform her that you need a pass, and I’ll arrange for the transport. This works out perfectly,” I reply, the truth of Raea’s confession still humming in my veins. “I need to go home. There’s an urgency that demands I be there now.”
I need to speak with my mother about the veil reports, and I should probably tell her about Raea. It has to come from me. I just hate leaving her so soon.
Gunnar nods. He leaves my side and finds a seat with some of his friends as we enter the loud hall. I find my seat with Trysten as he slides a tray in front of me with a plate of meat and vegetables.
I down a glass of water before asking, “What’s with the smirk?”
“Nothing. Just happy for you. Not only do you know who you’re going to Bond with…” his voice drops as he leans closer, “you also get some action beforehand. Don’t think I didn’t notice her walking in, all flushed several minutes ago.”
“I’m not sleeping with Raea.”
He chuckles as if I’m being ridiculous. “Nobody said you were.”
The Royal Palace of Malaya, a breathtaking vision of white and gold stone, shimmers into view as our transport descends.
Its crystalline spires seem to pierce the pale blue sky, crowning a forested peninsula that is surrounded by a cerulean sea.
Nestled into the cliffside, the palace feels as if it has risen from the very waters it commands.
Below, the fading sunlight shimmers across the pearlescent glass domes of the lower palace.
Soaring white stone pillars rise from interconnected seawater pools that feed waterfalls, cascading endlessly into the ocean.
From the white sand beaches of the north to the sun-drenched southern lagoon, the entire structure is a breathtaking extension of the natural landscape, defined by its flowing waterways and endless ocean views.
When the transport lands, and the doors open, filling the transport with the scent of home: salt, brine, citrus, and sandalwood trees, with a hint of an afternoon storm in the air.
My footmen, Leif and Bo, and personal guard, Rune, meet me at the base of the ramp and bow before the former head into the transport to grab my bags, leaving Rune at my side. It’s always a shock coming home and resuming the formalities after being on my own for several months.
I’m happy to be home, even if just for the night, but how can I even begin to tell her? Not just that the prophecy has claimed me, but that my fated partner is the princess of Treon, a revelation that will shatter every carefully laid plan she’s made for my reign.
“Anders,” Clara squeals as she comes running into my arms.
I swing her around before bringing her to my chest, the scent of sugar and strawberries enveloping me. I set her down so she can run around while I hug my mother. She’s looking better than she did when I last saw her.
Her blonde hair is pulled up and braided into an elaborate style, and she’s dressed in a deep blue gown with the family crest displayed on a necklace. A spark of recognition jolts me.
The Sgya branch. The Butterfly Bindwood.
I’d researched alternative healing ideas for depression, finding an old text that mentioned Butterfly Bindwood as a cure for ailments of the heart and soul.
While on Sgya, I had seen those weird branches and their vibrant butterflies, wondering if that was it.
No amount of archive research had yielded definitive answers, yet seeing my mother now, a desperate hope ignites within me.
That is the missing piece. I need to bring it to her.
“Son.” She wraps me in an embrace, her coconut and jasmine scent wrapping around my senses. “I’m so glad you could come. What has brought you all the way home?”
“I think we should all go inside.” I turn her and walk toward the stone palace ahead. The salty ocean air calms all my senses, and the quiet rush of the waves acts like a balm for my worries. The only thing that could be better is having Raea here with me.
She acted like it wasn’t a big deal that I was leaving, except that I know her.
I could feel her worry before she sealed it up with a practiced smile and quick dismissal.
Though she tried to hide it, her breathing became shallower, her shoulders slumped for half a second, and her microexpressions weren’t as easily concealed.
The white stone walls tower over us as we walk toward the private entrance.
The guards pull open the ornate glass doors, and the aqua arches inside come into view.
The white columns, the turquoise arches with domes filling the room, and the murals of our kingdom’s past are painted on the walls.
White marble floors fill the space with soft light, the walls illuminated by a gentle glow.
Each dome is filled with murals and stars.
The columns are adorned with sea creatures that wrap around them.
All of it is grand and tastefully lavish, but to me, it just feels like home.
The sound of my mother’s heels clicks against the tile as we navigate toward the private living space at the back of the palace. Clara runs ahead of me and giggles as she twirls. Her honey-blonde locks fly out around her.
“Clara, dear, don’t make yourself dizzy,” my mother calls out. “She’s delighted you’re both home. It’s so quiet around here when you’re gone. Cole and Linnea stick to their wing. You hardly notice they’re around.”
My jaw ticks at the reminder of Cole and Linnea.
Cole claims a Bond forged between them during an intimate night when the intensity of their connection proved too much for her mental shield.
An unforeseen consequence, but a Bond nonetheless.
This is exactly the reason I won’t risk taking Raea to bed.
Very few women have the ability to keep their Bond behind their mental shield when in a fit of passion.
I spent hours in the gym that night with Trysten, taking out my anger and worry on him, all while feeling as if I had failed Cole. He was so reckless and irresponsible. The weight of my failure felt suffocating.
And it was all because my father had left, abandoning his responsibilities, and forcing me into this role.
Then those thoughts turned dark and ugly when I remembered that it was his responsibility, not mine, to care for us.
I never asked to be a parent to my siblings, yet I’ve been forced into it for five years.
I’ve been angry with my father for years, but now, if he ever returns, my forgiveness won’t be easily earned.
He failed us.
I don’t know much about Linnea aside from what I learned from Rune and at school. She’s from Thirik and has dark hair, dark-tanned skin, piercings on her nose and brow, and a few tattoos. Her fierce, independent aura seems so opposite of who I’d think he’d go for, but who am I to judge?
The doors ahead open, and the glass wall that overlooks the ocean is open, allowing a fresh breeze to flow through the room. My parents had made this room a place for the family to come together at the end of the day and read and talk.
As we enter, the doors close behind us, and I know we’re finally alone. My mother takes a seat on the white chair across the room. It’s where she always sits. Clara sits on the floor with her dolls, and Cole and Linnea take the oversized sofa across the room from my mother.
“So, ready to explain?” my mother asks as I drop into another stuffed chair.
When it’s long past the time when everyone has gone to bed, I shower and crawl into the dark sheets, feeling the breeze pass through the open doors on my terrace. Waves roll in slowly outside, sending a fresh breeze and the sound of a deep, bassy rumble through my chamber.
I pull up The Link for a distraction, needing something to put me in a different mental state. I decide to add Raea as a friend, figuring I’d better just own it, and she accepts my friend request immediately, which makes me chuckle. Looks like she’s up, too.
Ciara tagged her in a post from break. It’s a photo of her and Raea with Tate and Kellan behind them, hugging them both. They’re all laughing and smiling on the transport with the caption saying: EXCITED FOR THE brEAK! #FountainIsles #holydaysfordays
The soft blue gown she’s wearing brings out the hint of blue in her hair. It’s not always easy to see, but in certain situations, such as with her gown, her hair appears more blue than white. My once-simple attraction has grown into an uncontrollable need for her.
Mine.
It’s like some beast inside of me keeps chanting that ever since she agreed to be mine earlier.
I keep scrolling through Raea’s feed. She shares numerous book recommendations and photos of plants and tea.
She hardly shares pictures of herself unless she’s with someone else.
There are a lot of her and Kellan, which doesn’t sit well in my gut.
I find a few of her that she was tagged in from the media at balls and different events.
Gods, she’s gorgeous.
When she’s dressed in a royal gown with her crown, she looks like the most beautiful princess. There’s something ethereal about her and the way she smiles and holds herself. It’s so different from how she is at school.
I get a notification about her liking a photo of me. I click on the notification, and it’s a photo of me from an AerBall game last year. I’m celebrating with my team, and they have me on their shoulders.
I chuckle and shoot her a message:
Anders Rykerson: Stalking me, are you?
Raea Tierson: You wish. It popped up on my feed now that we’re acquaintances.
Anders Rykerson: Acquaintances? It’s a friend request, not an acquaintance request. You accepted to be my friend. In fact, I distinctly remember you agreeing to be more.
Raea Tierson: Whatever makes you sleep better, Prince. Why are you awake anyway?
Dammit, I love her sass.
Anders Rykerson: I could ask you the same thing.
Raea Tierson: Why do you answer my questions with questions?
I laugh out loud, filling the large room.
Anders Rykerson: Did you just respond with another question?
Raea Tierson: So did you. Gods, you’re annoying. I’m going to bed. Bye, not-just-my-friend.
Anders Rykerson: Friend? You’re right. That title doesn’t fit. But one title does…
Raea Tierson: Oh? And what title is that? Boyfriend?
Anders Rykerson: I’m not a boy.
Raea Tierson: You’re right. Let’s see…handsome Prince? No. Cocky, beautiful, annoyingly distracting man who consumes my thoughts?
I can’t help but smile.
Anders Rykerson: While I appreciate the honesty, how about an easier title: Yours.
It shows she read my message and started to respond, but then it disappears. I groan and roll over, dropping my Prism onto the bedside table. I wave a hand over the light panel just as my Prism dings with an alert.
Raea Tierson: Mine.
Raea Tierson: And I’m yours.
It takes me over an hour, but finally, I drift off.