33. Ryker
Ryker
I’m headed to a meeting when one of the Regils yells breathlessly from behind me, “Prince Anders! Wait!”
I pause, turning to face him. His white uniform is disheveled, and he looks as if he hasn’t slept in a week.
He bends over, catching his breath before handing me the tablet. I look down at the scans of Khyreth and feel like I can’t breathe.
No! No, this can’t be right.
“War camps,” he pants. “I double, no, triple checked.” He points to a section of the scan that is clearer now, still dark, but at least there’s definition. “Tents. And these—” He points to the center of the ring. “It’s some sort of gathering spot.”
I swipe to the next scan. Similar patterns show large rings of encampments.
“These,” he says, finally breathing normally. “I think it’s a pen of sorts, though I can’t make out what kind of creatures they have.”
My jaw ticks as I stare at the herd of creatures. I exhale, shoving a hand through my hair. “I want a full team on this. More scans, and I want Protos stationed around the moon. I want new scans completed every half day. Notify me immediately if there are any developments.”
He nods, and when I hand him the tablet, I say, “Once you’ve relayed the order, get some sleep.”
He stutters out, “Yes, Your Majesty,” before disappearing down the hall from which he came. When I finally reach the war room, I relay the findings. The room erupts, but there’s nothing to be done. Not until we know more.
The inaction is a poison in my blood. My father spent years making me feel like every failure was a personal choice, and now, staring at those war camps, I can practically hear his voice telling me I’m not doing enough.
I want to burn the camps to ash, but instead, I have to stand here and play the role of the patient Prince while the system bleeds.
After the meeting is over, I’m called back to command for another mission. King Bastian pats me on the shoulder as we both enter. King Bastian, my mother, and I decided this morning we’d send another mission to Draerr. Despite King Alexi’s threat, our men are still there.
Just like we did with Khyreth, they’ll stay in the lower atmosphere, using the radars to try and gather information. We don’t want to lose another team. I drop into my seat, my hand rubbing nervously along my chin.
I still have so much to do before the Ceremony, before the wedding. My last fitting is in an hour, and there’s a press conference before dinner. Everyone is wondering why now? Why is Raea’s Ceremony here? So many questions to answer.
I haven’t seen her for but a short moment in passing when she was asking about going to work out . I had pinned her against the wall, needing a moment with her in my arms. This whole situation with my father has left my world feeling like it’s spinning off its axis.
I don’t understand why he’s here. Why now? He won’t give us any damn answers, and the only thing he’s clear on is that he’s against Raea and me being in any sort of relationship.
Too fucking bad.
Tomorrow is her ball, and the day after, I’m going to wed her and make her mine in front of the entire system. I’ve heard this is the most anticipated event in over a century. None of that matters to me, though.
Only her.
When the team moves into position, I signal for the all clear. I watch as the live-feed disappears into a thick cloud of onyx. When the systems glitch, the room holds its breath, then a moment later, the captain relays back that they’ve begun the scan.
Once the first image comes in, I ask them to send for me when they’re done. It will take hours to complete the rotations necessary for a clean scan.
When I step into my chambers, my mother is there, sitting on one of the sofas, her face flushed with tears. My fingers curl into a fist as I wait to see her dead eyes turn on me. Instead, when she looks my way, her face relaxes into a soft smile, and she pats her eyes dry.
“What a day.” She sighs.
I nod and cross the room, dropping into the spot beside her, wrapping her delicate hand in mine.
“I’ve spoken with your father,” she starts. There’s a tremor in her voice she attempts to hide, but I hear it. “I think with all the attention from the media, it’s best that he remains behind the wards until after the wedding. I don’t want your brother and sister finding out either.”
I offer her a reassuring tug on her shoulders as I place a quick kiss on the top of her golden hair. “Whatever you think is best.”
She sits straighter, exhales, and then pulls her face into a smile.
“You’re going to be married in two days.
” Her palm rests on my cheek. “I haven’t been a good mother these past years, but I wanted to tell you how extremely proud I am of you and how grateful I am.
You have every right to resent me, and yet, you’ve become this amazing man who is so compassionate and kind.
I see how you are with Clara. I saw it all, even if I couldn’t show it. ”
I look at her, and the 'mask' I’ve worn since the day my father disappeared feels like it’s finally cracking. “I did it for you, Mother,” I say, my voice thicker than I intended. “And for Clara. I didn’t want his shadow to be the only thing you had left.”
I swallow down the thick lump of emotions. My mother has told me she’s proud of me over the years, but not like this.
Her clear blue eyes search mine. “You’ll be an amazing husband to Raea.
I see how much you love her and how much she loves you.
All will be okay. Just remember, when life gets rough, choose each other.
Take the time to nurture your friendship, even when you’re tired and busy.
You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’ve drifted apart.
Right now, you’re each other’s best friend. Stay that way.”
She takes my hands in hers, squeezing tight. “I love you, Anders.”
I nod, inhaling deeply to keep the emotions at bay. “I love you too, mother.” I press a kiss to her cheek before she stands, taking her leave so I can do my final fitting.
She teases me when she gets to the door that she’s headed to Raea’s rooms to see her gowns.
I smile and respond, “I’d rather do that.”
When I follow her out, she laughs, throwing her head back. “Nice try.” She pats me on the chest before disappearing.
The flashes of the cameras are like silent explosions, momentary bursts of white that make the ‘Prince’ mask I’m wearing feel more brittle by the second.
“What is Okenen doing in response to the ongoing evacuations?” one reporter asks, their voice cutting through the localized hum of the room.
My grip on the podium tightens, knuckles turning white against the polished wood.
“We are working closely with Treon to ensure residents are evenly distributed across our systems and that every refugee is housed with full rations,” I reply, my voice steady despite the adrenaline-fueled roar of the Bond in my blood, especially since other men have begun filling our guest wing in preparation for tomorrow.
“Do you think a Ceremony is the right move given the state of the system?” another reporter shouts over the crowd.
I give a polite, practiced smile. “Princess Raea and I have a duty to our kingdoms. In times of war, the stability and strength that comes from a Royal Bond is more necessary than ever.” It’s a half-truth that tastes like copper.
We already have our magic, but the world doesn't need to know that yet.
“You sound confident the Bond will choose you, Prince Anders,” the reporter challenges.
I don’t look at the cameras. I look at Raea, and the smirk comes easily. “I am.”
The interrogation continues for what feels like hours.
They pepper us with questions about the defense of Ateria, the logistics of the fleet, and the unprecedented choice to host a Kyrr Ceremony here on Malayan soil.
I give them enough to satisfy their hunger without revealing the darkness rotting in the warded rooms of this palace.
Finally, the Regils move in, cutting off the onslaught. As we are ushered out of the room, the heavy doors muffling the desperate shouts behind us, I finally take a breath and look at the woman at my side.
She looks radiant—a vision of starlight and steel.
Her gown features a white bodice encrusted with intricate gold metalwork that reflects the torchlight like a sunburst. A sheer, shimmering cape falls from her shoulders, making her look every bit the celestial Queen the prophecy demands.
Her hair is pinned up in an incredible design of thick, pure white braids interwoven with delicate pearls and gold filigree, framing her face with a regality that makes my chest ache.
The moment we are out of earshot, her own mask she was wearing slips, replaced by a look of sharp concern.
“What happens with the coronation if your father is deemed stable?” she asks quietly.
I slip into an office that never gets used, pinning her to the door. “Don’t want to talk about my father,” I say, already lifting her into my arms as my nose drags along the column of her neck. “I just need to feel you.”
She giggles, wrapping her legs around me. “Our friends are waiting for us.”
Her voice hitches when I bite down on the space where her neck meets her shoulder. She tastes like fresh rain and home, and I can’t wait to get her naked beneath me again.
Every single time I’ve tried, we’re interrupted, or we’re both so tired, we fall asleep the moment we get into bed. My hands grip her ass, but there’s so much godsdamn material between us, I want to rip it off.
She rests her forehead against mine, her palms framing my face. Her skin is warm, and the scent of her skin is the only thing keeping the jagged edges of my temper from fraying completely.
“One more day, then I’m all yours,” she whispers, her eyes dancing with a playful grin.