Chapter 7
Emrys
After washing the road off my body and eating, I found Nisien in his apartments, legs kicked up on a bench, a goblet dangling from one hand, a letter dangling from the other. The hearthlight danced across his hair, painting the room in cozy, pleasant, uncomplicated light. Just the way he liked it.
The golden bastard looked like he hadn’t worried about anything in weeks.
“You raided the military coffers again,” I said without preamble, slamming the door behind me with a flick of magic.
He didn’t even look up, just smiled over the rim of his goblet. “Hello, Emrys. I missed you too. Though I shouldn’t be surprised this is how you start a conversation.”
“Nisien,” I warned.
He sighed and finally met my eyes. “I moved some funds.”
“Some?” I probably had a murderous look, but he ignored it.
“Enough,” he said calmly, simply. He set his wine down and gestured at the ledgers scattered across the table. “I moved the funds to where they were needed most.”
The pressure started behind my eyes, a slow, pulsing ache. My voice trembled with a coiled intensity. “You pulled crown taxes from our standing forces during a year when the northern border is a single spark away from war!”
Nisien’s face showed patient restraint, as if he were talking to a toddler. “There were other needs—”
“Nisien!”
He had the nerve to look exasperated. “You act as if we don’t have the levies,” he argued. “The peasant forces on our borders have been effective for years.”
My laughter was harsh, humorless, and far too loud.
I took a breath and allowed the air to escape between my teeth in a sibilant hiss.
“They are effective because we send them fresh arms and trained soldiers every winter to drill with them. That is how we ensure they don’t die screaming the first time they see a warhorse charging!
The levies don’t hold because you wish it so, you insufferable shit. They hold because we make them strong.”
The table next to Nisien groaned under my weight as I leaned on it, fists clenched, magic gathering beneath my skin. Not now.
Nisien’s gaze was steady, if a little wary. He felt it. “Do you doubt my desire to do what’s right for Darreth?”
“No.” I shook my head, jaw tight as I fought the urge to break something. “I think you’re afraid of being wrong.”
That got him. Nisien’s posture straightened just a little. A cautious look settled on his face, but he didn’t argue. “I’m listening to my advisors, Emrys.”
“You take too much advice,” I snapped. From everyone but me.
And there it was at the surface now—the flare of magic pulsing on my skin, a restless war drum demanding release. “Don’t forget you’re the one wearing the crown. You have a more comprehensive view of the kingdom than nearly anyone else.”
“Do you forget that you wear the other half of the crown, brother?”
“Never! And you know it.” He was trying to start a fight to avoid this difficult conversation. He knew I’d storm off to save him from the curse if sufficiently provoked.
The frustration, sharp and jagged like shards of glass, lodged in my throat before I swallowed it and softened my tone. “You must trust yourself to make your own decisions occasionally, Nisien.”
There was a single, barely perceptible twitch of his face. He hated it when I sounded like our father.
“I do trust myself,” he muttered. “Just less now that you’re back—a sentiment everyone seems to share.”
That hit me harder than I’d expected. Nisien didn’t intend to be cruel about my absence, yet his lack of malice somehow made the hurt even worse.
In uncertain times, being seen as the weaker ruler by the court wasn’t just inconvenient—it was dangerous. I’d changed the political landscape by returning home after being gone for so long. So now I had to be the knife in the dark for him. I had to continue being the monster for my kingdom.
He’d already made it clear that he couldn’t do this without better guidance.
But I also couldn’t lead without him. I was too volatile, too broken to shoulder the kingdom alone.
That was why our father had split the crown between us.
We’d remain princes until we agreed that one of us should be king alone.
Since our father’s death, the kingdom had balanced on a blade’s edge.
Our fields and waters were still prosperous, but raids on our northern borders were pushing our bannermen to the brink of their tolerance.
And the Assembly’s attempts to manipulate our court had only intensified with each passing month of turmoil.
The Assembly wanted Darreth to thrive, but only according to their whims. We were locked in a perpetual push and pull of influence and power that was felt in every whispered conversation and official decree. Now their once subtle maneuvers were becoming more blatant, hence my summons to Caervorn.
They’d promised a patrol of mages to assuage our two most powerful northern bannermen in exchange for one meeting with me—too great a prize to turn down. Now I wondered if I’d made a mistake in going.
I dropped heavily into the nearest chair and reached for his relinquished goblet. Empty, of course.
“Did you know,” I said, changing the subject, “that Maeron expects me to act as a prized stud? Constantly chasing mares in heat to fix our succession problems?”
Nisien didn’t even blink. “Yes.”
I rose from the chair, fists clenched, curse rising again in sudden anger. “And you said nothing?”
“Don’t shout.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I already have a headache, and you’ve only made it worse.”
“Drink less wine then!” I paced like a caged beast. “I just spent a week listening to that forked-tongued bureaucrat tell me I need to breed like I’m an animal. And you…you…knew?”
Nisien leaned back, hands in his lap, voice quieter now. “Have you never wondered why I have no bastards?”
I froze. The magic simmering under my skin cooled with my plummeting mood. Voice softer, I asked, “What?”
Nisien had had more lovers than sense. Cursed gods knew I’d envied him for that ease, for the way he moved through the world like he belonged in it.
“Do you really think I’m that careful?” he asked.
Nisien had charm, not caution. Naturally, the thought of him producing bastards had crossed my mind, but I’d never thought seriously of it. I thought he just didn’t want heirs he couldn’t raise openly as his own.
“Apparently, it happens sometimes with mages,” he said, eyes on the hearth now. “The Assembly knows, of course. They said the only solution is for me to bed another mage. I don’t know of any available mage princesses, do you? And if I’m forced into a political marriage…”
“Gods know you won’t complain about trying to make an heir anyway.” If I didn’t make a joke, something within me was going to break.
“True.” He grinned.
“Why did you say nothing to me, Nisien?”
“What would I have said? That I’m broken?” He laughed bitterly. “That the oh-so-amiable, golden-tongued prince can’t do the one thing everyone wants from him? I already have people questioning my strength, Emrys. I didn’t need to give them more reasons to string me up.”
Nisien was a world-class battle mage. He could best me in a fight if I didn’t have the curse granting me extra power. And his strategy, when he had the mind to trust himself, far outshone most experts. The fact that anyone thought him weak was absolutely absurd.
But the world only saw the twin who smiled at nobles and danced through diplomatic courts.
And I unwittingly played a part in that misperception.
I was the one they called upon when the need for anything grim arose.
I was the shadow behind the throne, the one who made our enemies pause before pushing Darreth into open war.
I knew that hurt him, even if he would never show it. Sometimes, I worried he resented me for it, for being the brother he had to manage on top of running our kingdom.
I looked beyond his playful facade and carefree air, past the beloved prince who put everyone at ease, to the man underneath—ashamed, afraid, but still trying.
The anger drained from me as if I were a broken cup. I leaned back in my seat, legs splayed, feeling like the weight of the realm had aged me a decade in a breath.
“You might be Darreth’s only hope for heirs,” Nisien said simply.
“Is this the real reason Father split the crown between us?”
“Partially.”
“I’m not going to steal your throne,” I said quietly.
“I know.” He hesitated then gave me a brilliant smile. “I’ve already come to terms with the fact that you’ll probably end up fucking my wife. So, please, try to leave me some dignity.”
“Gods.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re insufferable.”
“It’s not like other kingdoms haven’t done the same.” He laughed.
My brother—this maddeningly brave man. A man who still cared enough about me to defend my name to the world after everything I’d done.
I rubbed a hand through my hair. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” His voice softened. “Even when you yell.”
“Especially when I yell.”