Chapter 9
NINE
Rylan
I fucking hate it here.
Returning to the castle always feels like a bitter injection straight to the heart. The high marble walls are always the same, cold, imposing, filled with memories I’ve spent my life trying to forget. Yet there’s still always that strange pull, an inevitable draw that brings me back every time. Call it duty, obligation, or the endless cycle of proving myself to a man who will never see me as anything more than a tool in his bloody games.
So I keep coming back, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate every fucking second that I’m here.
But today, as I walk through the halls toward the throne room, something feels different. Something luring me, tugging me out of the pure, never-ending hatred I’ve always had for this building I’ve had to call home.
Thoughts of her .
I don’t expect to see her again very soon after we’ve said goodbye. Surprisingly, my thoughts haven’t wandered to her at all since I left her in the courtyard. Well, just briefly, once or twice. Maybe.
Who am I kidding?
I’ve spent every fucking minute since I made the catastrophically stupid mistake of touching her cheek outside the castle wishing I’d given in to every single depraved urge I’ve had regarding her over the last week. Wishing I’d succumbed to every burning need that had plagued me while I’d been pressed up against her delectable body, her scent tainting every breath, torturing me with unending thoughts of fucking her in every way known to man and godkind. Thoughts that haven’t let up. For. One. Single. Fucking. Moment.
How I didn’t strip her of that flimsy excuse for a nightshirt and ravage every inch of her body in that inn the morning I woke up with her in my arms will never cease to surprise nor torment me.
And now I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what she would’ve felt like, tasted like, on the tip of my tongue, and on the end of my cock.
I force the thoughts of her to the back of my mind, tugging on the collar of my Celestaris cloak erecting the extra barriers I need when in my father’s presence.
As soon as I flick my wrist and the throne doors fly open, the air feels different, and I’m drawn inside like I haven’t been in the thirty seasons I’ve lived here. That’s when I see her, and for the first time in my entire life, I almost stumble as I walk into the throne room that one day will be mine to reign over.
She’s like a warm breath in this cold, sterile mausoleum, a flicker of life where there has only existed stone and shadow for so long. I almost don’t recognise her at first. She’s been transformed, dressed in a royal blue dress that clings to her form in ways that should be criminal, making it downright impossible to look away. Her dark hair, with those striking streaks of blue, is like an ebony waterfall cascading down her back, one I want to bury my face in. But it’s her eyes that draw me in—they have from that first moment I spotted her from across that tiny town square. Those same teal eyes that have haunted my thoughts and sweetened my dreams in equal measure. Not to mention that mouth that looks like it was sculpted directly out of my deepest fantasies.
My mind flashes with memories of the way she’d handled being basically kidnapped by four strange men, for some unknown reason, and brought to the capital to, like she said, be delivered like a pig to slaughter. Taken it with courage, with fight, with enough questions to send any sane man to the crazy cells in my father’s dungeons, with unimaginable grace. She is, as I told her, a surprise at every turn.
My feet refuse to take another step forward as I stand level with her in front of the dais, my body cleaving to hers, aching to reach out to touch her, missing the feel of her after almost a week of being almost permanently bonded to her. What. The. Fuck. Is wrong with me? Get it together, Rylan. She’s just a woman. An insufferable, stubborn, chatty… sees right through you, drives you fucking mad, woman.
I force my eyes forward and away from her breasts, which are moulded by the corset of her dress, as I greet my parents.
“How kind of you to finally join us, Rylan. Narathia has missed its beloved Crown Prince and Celestaris,” my father says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Eirabella visibly stiffens next to me at the mention of my titles, and it’s everything I can do not to grab her hand and drag her out of here. She needs to stay, whether either of us want that or not. Especially after everything I did to bring her here.
Pushing down the irritation that rises within me at my father’s tone, I keep my expression carefully neutral as I address him. “Father,” I say, inclining my head slightly. There’s as much warmth in my voice as his. Like father, like son, so much of the court likes to espouse. Not sure which of us finds that more of an insult.
Before I can say more, my mother rises from her throne, her movements graceful despite the toll the years of illness have taken on her. She descends the steps with a soft rustle of silk, her eyes warm as they meet mine. Her hand cups my face gently in her hands, her touch as soft as I remember from childhood. My heart cracks open a little at her loving touch.
“My darling,” she murmurs, her voice full of the affection I so rarely receive from anyone else in this place. “It’s good to have you back.”
I manage a small smile, leaning into her touch. But the smile falters as I take in her appearance. She looks worse than the last time I saw her, just a few weeks ago. The lines on her face are deeper, her skin paler than the falling snow. There’s a frailty to her now that wasn’t there before, and it sends a spike of worry through me.
“Mother, I have missed you,” I say, the affection clear in my tone. “You look… tired.”
Her smile is sad, knowing. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t take care of now that you’re home,” she says, brushing it off as if it’s nothing. But it isn’t nothing, and we both know it. I make a mental note to speak to the healer about some remedies I heard of during my journey—anything that might ease her suffering, even if just a little. Maybe that will at least help the guilt I’m feeling ease.
The king gestures impatiently toward Eirabella, who stands awkwardly in the centre of the room as I help my mother back to her throne. “This is who you’ve chosen as Aquilith?” he asks, his voice laced with scepticism.
I allow myself a quick glance at Eirabella on my way back to the floor. She looks completely stunned, her eyes wide with shock. I suppress a sigh. She has no idea what she’s been thrust into. What I have brought her into. Her face still displays the stark shock from realising who I really am.
“Yes, Father,” I say, my voice firm, confident, devoid of emotion. “I believe that I have brought you your future Keeper of Water. I’ve seen her Strength with my own eyes.”
Father’s expression doesn’t change, but I can see the wheels turning in his mind. He’s always been quick to judge, slow to trust, if ever. “But her powers were stripped,” he says, his tone challenging. “How do you expect her to serve as a Keeper when she’s barely more than a novice?”
Eirabella bristles, her lips parting as if to argue. “I—” she starts.
But the king interrupts, his gaze snapping to her with cold finality. “You will speak only when spoken to,” he says, his tone sharp as a blade.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her, noting the familiar blast of anger in her eyes, the way her hands clench into fists at her sides. I can’t help feeling a flash of pride. Good. Let that fire burn, Eirabella. Hold onto it. You’re going to need it in this place.
“She will thrive with training,” I reply, keeping my tone even. “And with the right guidance, she’ll reach her full potential. I have already spoken to Master Tavyn to oversee her Keeper training. He’s the most experienced with cases like hers and believes she will be ready by the trials.”
He considers what I’ve said, his gaze shifting back to Eirabella. He studies her for a long moment before finally nodding. “Very well. We shall see. It will be interesting considering both Master Gavrik and Mistress Manoram have already begun training their own disciples. ”
There’s a tense silence, and then I speak again, my words deliberate, carefully chosen. “And so, I believe I have upheld my side of the deal. Now it’s your turn to uphold yours.”
The king’s expression instantly hardens, and then he lifts his hand. “Leave us.”
The throne room doors open, and immediately, everyone begins to file out, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension. As Mathis leaves, he gives Eira a look—not quite a smile, but a nod of support. Then he turns to me, his eyes holding mine, sending an unspoken message. But I don’t engage. Life is hard enough here without me taking my best friend down with me.
As the last of the nobles make their way out, Eirabella starts to move as well, clearly unsure of what to do. But the king’s voice cuts through the air again, cold and commanding. “Eirabella, you are to stay.”
She slowly faces the thrones again, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. Her eyes meet mine as she turns, and I’m taken aback by the level of betrayal I see there. Raw. Angry. Hurt.
I should’ve told her. I should’ve told her who I was and why I was bringing her here. I should have told her everything.
The doors close with a resounding thud as the last of the noblemen and women exit the throne room, leaving only the four of us in the room—my father, my mother, Eirabella, and me.
The king’s lips curl into a faint, almost mocking smile. “The deal, my son, was that you would successfully find your replacement for Emberon, which you have done, and also the currently unfilled Aquilith role, which was also your doing. Bringing the girl here does not fulfil that end of your bargain. Therefore I am not yet obligated to do anything.”
Anger flares in me, hot and immediate. “I found her,” I snap, my voice rising despite my best efforts to remain calm. “Based on your stipulations, fulfilling your criteria. Not to mention, she has unprecedented power. What more do you need from me?”
His eyes sparkle, and a chill runs through me. What fucked-up hoop has he designed for me to jump through now? “You are to personally train her. If you do not oversee her training directly, consider our little deal off. The next Keeper trials are in three months. I suggest you begin training your new disciple immediately if you are to help her to not only survive but prevail.”
Eirabella lets out a little squeal but quickly covers her mouth, her eyes searching mine, wide with fear.
My frustration boils over, and I can’t hold back any longer. “I’m not a trainer. It would be a disservice both to her and to the kingdom for me to train her. There are others far better suited—”
He interrupts, demanding, “Are you not the strongest of our Keepers? The most celebrated Celestaris in the history of Celador? The youngest to ever pass not only the Keeper trials but to win the Master Keeper quest? Are you telling me that you are not capable of teaching this… novice how to use her powers? You can’t truly expect me to believe that.”
I feel Eirabella’s eyes on me, but I ignore her, focusing on the man before me. The man who has dictated every move of my life, leaving me little control over my own destiny.
“This is not what we agreed on! Are you truly expecting this of me?” I insist, my voice tight with frustration.
He doesn’t flinch. “Yes. Because you are the only one capable. The only one strong enough. You will train her, and she will become what this realm needs, what I need, to secure our future.”
My hands clench into fists at my sides, every muscle in my body taut with barely contained rage. “And what of my future?”
His expression doesn’t waver, but I see the calculation in his eyes. “Your future is set. You are the Crown Prince. This is what that entails. Sacrifice.”
I feel the weight of it all crashing down on me—the expectations, the demands, the impossible burden of being everything this realm requires. I know I can’t do it all, not to the best of my abilities. Not if I want to retain any semblance of control over my own life. Not if I can fulfil the promises to myself and the people to whom I owe everything. It is why I made the deal in the first place.
“I can’t fulfil all the duties of the Crown, Celestaris, and train her at the same time.”
He scoffs. “You are my son. Trust me, I know more than anyone what your limitations are.” His words cut deeper than they should, a reminder that no matter how hard I try, I will always be seen through the lens of his impossible judgement.
“We had an agreement,” I grit out, the words like acid on my tongue.
“You’ll live.”
His dismissiveness grates like barbed wire against my brain. I need to go before I burn this whole castle to the ground. Without another word, I turn on my heel and storm out of the room, the rage driving each step. I don’t spare a glance at Eirabella, don’t want to see her disappointment, her hurt. I just leave, and with a flick of my hand, slam the door behind me with a force that echoes through the hall, as, not for the first time, I storm from the castle with anger in my heart and murder on my mind.