Chapter 34
Black Roses
“Only a bastard would not want any for himself.”
— Lord Draven Wrenavia, as heard in the House of Sterling
My head pounded by the time afternoon tea was over. Recalling the past three years, pushing myself to open up—it was more difficult than I’d expected.
Lady Jocelynn wanted every unpleasant detail she could squeeze out of me. The more disturbing, the more interested she was. She promised it was important for the people to know.
When our tea session finished, Lady Jocelynn dismissed her crows and excused herself. She had much to do before the show.
With a weight on my mind heavier than any sword, I left the terrace and made my way back. I could have requested an escort, but in truth, I wanted nothing more than to be alone.
From the high perch of the Silver Circle, the city below bustled with life. There were still hours before sunset, but music played, orbs of light bounced around in the streets, and people crowded through lantern-lit walkways. Smoke escaped chimneys as family dinners were being prepared.
My shoulders sagged. I wanted to scream. “Enjoy it, it might not last forever!”
I scaled the charcoal steps to Xavian’s—our home. The word home was not yet a comfortable one. It never had been. How could home be so many places and yet none at all?
The foyer was empty. Streaks of light peeked through the dark curtains and onto the hardwood floors. Thick blankets were strewn about the long, grey couch, evidence that Xavian had been there at some point today. He often lounged with paperwork while snacking on platters of meat and cheese.
He was not here now, though, unless he had retired to his bedroom early. He may still have been at the House of Sterling, or had plans down in the capital.
Exhausted and hollow, up the steps I went, down the hall and into my bedroom. I undressed and threw on a loose, white nightgown, and for the first time in a very long time, I took a nap before nightfall.
I dreamt of bladebreathers. A real dream, with my own voice. Singer in my hand, Amzee and I soared over the coast of Lyonscliff, fit to wage war on Queen Delaina.
“Ready to win this thing?” Amzee called from Zephy’s back.
Win.
We could win.
My eyes flew open. It was so obvious what could aid us in the battles to come.
Bladebreathers.
Amzee had said it herself. Why wasn’t the council more worried about recruiting riders instead of endless days of practicing swordcraft?
I slid to the edge of the bed, rubbing my eyes and glancing out of the large arched window. Light twinkled throughout the capital and into Bastard’s Bay. The moon sat high above, peeking through long, wispy clouds.
I must have slept for a while. It was late enough that Xavian would surely be home. Without the pressure of the rest of the council, maybe we could figure out a plan to recruit more riders.
I threw on a pair of soft black pants and a violet sweater, and hurried down the stairs.
A candle burned on the dining room table, flickering shadows and warm glows against the charcoal walls. Two dirty dinner plates were abandoned in the kitchen sink.
He had eaten and was not alone. The fireplace in the living room still burned, and several whiskey glasses were left on the coffee table, ice nearly melted.
Muffled voices echoed off the walls, but it was difficult to identify where they were coming from. I followed the sounds all the way to an open window behind the couch.
Just above the living room, Xavian was in a heated debate with a woman. They must have been on his bedroom balcony.
“You cannot do this!” The woman angrily sobbed.
Xavian sighed. “Fiera, I have told you before. This is my duty. It’s a sacrifice I am making for you and everyone else in Castivian.”
“I do not care about duty or sacrifice! I’d sooner pray for Delaina’s good health before I would want you to marry some Lestivian whore on the grounds of politics. After three winters, I should be the one you’re marrying. Not her!”
Oh.
It was about the marriage thing.
I had been avoiding thinking about my own arranged marriage. I certainly hadn’t considered Xavian’s.
“It’s not about what you want,” Xavian interrupted another sob. “I love my people, and I will not let my own desires keep me from winning this war.”
“Then what about me?” she screeched. The pain in her voice was the kind only love could cause.
“What do you mean?”
I wanted to smack my brother in the back of the head for asking such a stupid question in response to a simple one.
“What happens to me? What happens to us after they ship your bride here? You say you love your people, but what about me?”
I held my breath as a heated silence filled the air.
“You will be my past, Fiera. I will be a married man and a busy king with a war to win.”
I pressed my palm over my mouth and took a step back from the window. I could not bear listening any longer. Instead, I went to the kitchen and cleaned their dinner plates, then the whiskey glasses. And when that was done, I scrubbed the counters—anything to distract myself.
Anything to drown out the unbearable cries of heartbreak.
Xavian was sacrificing his relationship with Lady Fiera for his arranged marriage, while I paid mine no regard, wanting Riven.
Saying it, even to myself, felt dirty. The man who had been intimate with my best friend, the knight loyal to my brother, a knight under my employ that would soon have to serve my own husband. I felt sick.
A knock at the door rang out against the wreckage in my mind. I set down the cleaning rag and hurried to answer it.
“Riven?”
He stood with black roses in hand.
“I know you had a hard time today, and you’ll probably think I’ve gone mad, but I thought you might like these. You cannot kill them with your Nature. They’re special, like y-”
“You have to leave.”
I never thought I’d be interrupting him saying exactly what I wanted to hear. Just an hour earlier, I would have been blushing and sneaking him upstairs.
“What?” Riven’s gaze softened before becoming cold, like a protective shield.
The guilt ate at me from the inside out.
War is no place for pretty things, Prince Payn had said all that time ago.
The bouquet of roses was the most beautiful I had ever seen, and the only flowers that had ever been given to me.
But I couldn’t take them.
I forced my face into a cold, bored frown.
“You’re… dismissed.” The words, the order, felt wrong coming out my mouth.
Riven shook his head. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong now? You don’t like flowers?”
My chest tightened. I wanted to run away and never show my face again, but there was no running from this. “I don’t want your flowers. I’m betrothed. I said you’re dismissed.”
He took a step back as if I’d hit him. “Tell me what I did.”
He was hurt, and it was my fault. “You are wrong for me.”
He had protected me, fought for my life on multiple occasions, tied my hair up when I was hurt, warmed me back to health, and so much more. It was like stabbing myself in the chest.
“Whatever it is I did, I’m sorry. I wanted to be good enough.”
With that, he dropped the flowers and turned away, trailing out of the Silver Circle. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly to keep from crying.
I needed a drink.
Dragging myself back inside, I frowned at the distant arguing of Xavian and Fiera raging on. Everything was a mess.
I laid my elbows on the kitchen counter, rubbing my temples. At least the view of the city was pretty.
Twinkling lights, a peaceful harbor, and… a bladebreather.
Red mist trailed behind Zephy and Amzee as they soared over the capital. They dropped low, landing on a tall building.