Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Rylan
“The council has spoken,” my father declares, his voice cold and final. His eyes meet mine with that familiar, unforgiving glare, the one that says everything: You have no choice in this.
My jaw tightens. The rage that’s been simmering inside me all morning boils over, and I push my chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the stone floor. I don’t care about the heads that turn my way, the whispers that start as I rise. I’m done with this farce.
Without a word, I storm out of the chamber, my heart pounding with fury. As soon as I step into the corridor, I see Mathis leaning against the wall, waiting for me. He falls into step beside me without a word as I make a beeline for the combat room. My footsteps echo sharply off the stone walls, matching the rhythm of my anger. Mathis knows better than to ask questions yet—he can read the fury on my face. I’m glad for his presence, though. If there’s one thing Mathis understands, it’s how to help me burn off this kind of anger.
By the time we reach the combat room, I’m ready to explode. I throw open the doors, heading straight for the weapons rack. Mathis follows me, his expression serious now as he unsheathes his own sword.
We meet on the mat in the middle of the room.
“Let’s go,” I command.
The moment our swords meet, I channel all my frustration into each strike, each parry.
“You want to tell me what happened in there?” Mathis asks, his voice steady as we circle each other, our blades clashing.
“My father and the council have decided to send me to Larethia,” I bite out, bringing my sword down hard. “To renegotiate our trade alliance with Duke Newbury.”
Mathis dodges, his movements smooth. “Now? With everything going on?”
“Exactly!” I snap, thrusting forward. “Now is the worst possible time. Not just that the Keeper trials are weeks away from happening, the rebellion’s movements and”—I swallow—“my mother’s health is declining.”
Mathis parries my strike, his expression thoughtful. “That’s tough, man. But you know how your father is.”
“I do. He doesn’t care about what matters to me,” I spit, swinging harder.
Mathis steps back, giving me a moment to breathe. “And Eirabella? How does she fit into this?”
My sword falters slightly, the mention of her name throwing me off balance. “She... she needs more training,” I say, trying to focus. “Every day counts. We can’t afford for me to leave now.”
Mathis lowers his sword slightly, watching me closely. “But it’s more than just the trials, isn’t it?”
I narrow my eyes, defensive. “What are you getting at?”
“You don’t want to leave her,” Mathis says, his tone probing.
I feel the anger rising again, but this time it’s mixed with guilt, maybe, or fear. I try to shake it off. “I’m just worried about leaving her here alone. It’s nothing more than that.”
“Isn’t it?” Mathis presses, sidestepping another swing and countering with a quick jab. “Rylan, it’s obvious. You care about her.”
I stop mid-swing, glaring at him. “She’s my disciple. I didn’t bring her here to fail.”
Mathis doesn’t back down. “It’s more than that. You care more than just as her mentor.” I open my mouth to argue, but Mathis keeps going, his voice firm. “Come on, it’s me. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you acted when she got hurt during that session with Selene. You wouldn’t let anyone else near her until you were sure she was okay. And everyone is talking about what you did to Kaelen for his part in it.”
I swallow hard, my grip on the sword tightening as I struggle to find something to say, something to counter his words.
“I’d act that way about anyone who was under my charge,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean—”
“Don’t insult me, man,” Mathis cuts in, his eyes locking onto mine. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you care about her. Going on all those walks with her? Taking her on picnics? Moving her to your quarters? Pretty much biting off every man’s head who even goes near her? You care more than just as a mentor, more than your future Aquilith. You’re scared to admit it, but it’s the truth. Just admit she’s special to you. ”
I want to deny it, to push back, but he knows me too well for that. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve felt—it’s all been because of her. But caring about her means admitting a whole world of complications that I’m not ready to face.
“There’s no point in admitting to it. Because I could never choose to be with her,” I say, the words cutting through me even as I speak them.
“Why?”
I huff. “You know why. Her status, for one. She’s not from nobility, and you know how much that matters here. I’m the heir to the fucking throne, Rylan, That comes with…expectations. And then there’s the fact that... she’s reckless, too impulsive. She doesn’t think things through. And I’m bound by duty—my father, the kingdom—I can’t afford to have feelings for someone who might endanger everything.”
Mathis looks at me, pity in his eyes. “Rylan…” he starts, but there’s the sound of a door opening and closing, and he leans in, lowering his voice. “Sometimes you have to think about what matters to you too. She is special.”
I lower my sword, the anger slowly ebbing away, leaving only the truth I’ve been trying to avoid. “Fine! Yes. She’s special. Fuck that. She’s more than that... she’s godsdamned incredible, Mathis,” I admit quietly, the words feeling both like a relief and a burden. “She’s strong, intelligent, kind, determined, and... she makes me feel things I haven’t felt… fuck, I’ve never felt these things. Not even… just, not ever. Things I shouldn’t feel. And that’s why it can’t happen.”
I pause, taking a shaky breath as the weight of it all settles over me. “And then there’s the rebellion, Mathis. It’s gaining momentum. You saw what it was like the other day in the town square. Tensions are rising and it feels like we’re days away from an all-out war. If I… if I get too close to her, I’ll drag her into this mess. I can’t put her in that kind of danger. ”
Mathis’s eyes narrow, his voice sharp and unyielding. “You involved her when you brought her here.”
My jaw clenches, the guilt hitting me square in the chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t have,” I mutter, the words barely audible but heavy with regret.
Mathis studies me, his expression softening as he sees the turmoil in my eyes. The silence stretches between us, filled with the things neither of us can change. I glance away, staring at the floor. “She deserves someone who can give her everything. Not someone who’s bound by all these trappings, who can never truly be with her, make her their priority.” The words are bitter on my tongue, but they’re the truth. And they hurt more than any strike from Mathis’s sword ever could. “So, why start something I can’t finish?”
He doesn’t have an answer for that.
Despite my conversation with Mathis, I find myself standing outside Eirabella’s room before dinner. After two days of not spending our usual morning training together, I already feel like there’s something missing from my very being. I know I shouldn’t be here—I shouldn’t be doing this—but I can’t seem to stop myself. Before I can second-guess myself, I knock.
She opens the door almost immediately, dressed for dinner, her usual wide, warm smile on her face. “Hello! I wasn’t expecting yo—oh, it’s you .” She stops, her expression immediately changing, now guarded, distant. It’s not what I’m used to seeing from her, and it throws me off balance. Who the fuck did she think she was going to open the door to, and how come that person deserved a smile but not me ?
I try to mask the searing agitation that rises within me. “Good evening, I came to see if you would like to walk to dinner with me?” I say.
There’s a moment of hesitation before she nods. “If you wish.” Her tone is clipped, almost formal, and I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong.
We walk in silence, the tension between us making the air claggy and uncomfortable. I try to start a conversation, but her responses are curt, barely more than polite. Questions gnaw at me, but I can’t bring myself to ask her outright. Instead, I focus on trying to bridge the gap, but every attempt only seems to widen it further.
The grand dining hall is buzzing with the usual chatter when we take our seats, but I can’t focus on any of it. All I can think about is Eirabella, sitting literally one handspan away from me yet feeling miles apart. She’d only agreed to sit next to me after I’d loudly insisted and given her no chance to refuse. But she’s been avoiding looking at me since, and the cold she’s projecting toward me is like a knife twisting in my gut. She freely talks to Alina and Caelum, her voice as light, warm, and pleasant as she usually is, and it grates that she’s acting like that with them and not me. Laughing with them at inside jokes they’ve shared since gods only know when, and it’s as though she’s forgotten I’m even here. No, worse . It’s that she’s blatantly ignoring me.
“Eirabella, would you like some wine?” I gesture to the server with a tray standing between us, grateful for an excuse to speak to her.
“Water is fine,” she says to me shortly, but still manages to spare the server a thank you and polite smile.
Every attempt to engage with her is met with the same dismissive nod or a curt response. My frustration builds with every word she shares with the other people at the table, with every laugh she gives that isn’t directed at me. She’s punishing me, and I can’t figure out why. What did I do? What did I say? The questions swirl in my mind, each one sharper than the last, each one digging deeper into the pit of my stomach.
Fuck. Maybe she has remembered what I’d said the other day during our roof picnic after all. All the thoughts about the things I crave doing to her. None of it was a lie, I do constantly fantasise about kissing her, fucking her but I shouldn’t have told her, not when there’s not a godsdammned thing I can do about it. But I hadn’t been able to keep my fucking mouth shut, she’d just been so open, so playful, so…irresistible. But in the cold light of day, she’s probably just thinking about what a creep I am. And frankly, I can’t blame her.
I run my hand through my hair, stealing a glance at her, but she’s still deep in conversation with my sister, like she either doesn’t know or care about the turmoil running through me right now. It’s not her style to ignore me though; if she’d been offended by what I’d said, she’d have just confronted me, told me I was being inappropriate and that she wasn’t having it. This has to be about something else.
At one point, I notice Julietta leaning over the table to talk to Eira, her voice low but filled with that practised sickly sweetness that always sets me on edge. “You know, Eirabella, some of the other ladies have been wondering why you’re not married. You are of age, after all. Perhaps you’ve been holding out for someone special from your darling little village? Or is your eye on our dear Crown Prince here?”
I open my mouth to tell Julietta to mind her own bloody business, but I don’t get a chance.
Eira’s usual bright smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she lets out a light laugh and replies, “Oh, goodness, no. I’m not looking for a husband. Pesky things, really. Not to mention, I’m hardly Prince Rylan’s type. Bit too opinionated, apparently. But there are plenty of other prospects for the crown princess here, don’t you think? Like, well”—she makes a show of looking around, and then gesturing across the table”—you, Julietta. Do you think it’s you that our dear prince has his eye on?” She cocks her head as if deep in thought and then adds, “I mean, you’d make a lovely couple. He’s handsome, you’re beautiful. And quite the matching personalities, too.”
Alina’s eyes flare wide as she gasps, and Caelum just outright guffaws. Elara, at least, has the good sense to hide her amusement behind her hand.
I, on the other hand, find my blood boiling at Eirabella’s words. The thought of her suggesting Julietta—of all people—as a match for me stirs something fierce and possessive within me. Why the fuck is she acting like she wants me to be with someone else? If anyone dared suggest someone other than me for Eirabella, I’d rip the bloody, beating heart right out of them. Yet, she’s sitting right there, calm and cold as the ice she wields. Why is the very idea of her pushing me towards someone else, towards anyone but herself, and trying to distance herself from me is actually…hurting? And making me want to shake the everloving sense into her.
Before I can insert myself into the conversation, to tell Julietta exactly what I think about her comment to Eirabella, Eirabella turns her attention back to Alina, effectively cutting off that topic. She’s shutting me out completely, and it’s driving me damn near insane.
Caelum, ever the observant one, catches my dark mood and smirks. “Rough day, cousin? Something not going your way for once?” I shoot him a glare, the kind that would make anyone else back down. But Caelum just grins wider, enjoying my frustration.
Before I can regain my focus, I feel a dark presence at my side. My father leans over slightly, his voice low and pointed. “I trust you have now calmed down after your little tantrum during the council meeting?”
I stiffen, forcing myself to remain composed. “I had legitimate concerns, Father. The timing—”
“The timing is exactly what it needs to be,” the king cuts in, his tone brooking no argument. “You will go to Larethia, and you will do so with the dignity expected of your position.”
My jaw tightens, but I manage a stiff nod. “Yes, of course. I just think there are other priorities.”
He studies me for a moment, his gaze hard. “You’ll let me figure out what is best for my kingdom. Don’t make me rethink our deal, Rylan.”
With that, he turns his attention back to the dinner, leaving me seething. I turn back around, eager to talk to the person who’s been my sole source of comfort lately, only to feel a fresh wave of frustration wash over me.
Eirabella and Julietta have swapped seats.
Julietta is now sitting next to me, her eyelashes batting wildly as she focuses her calculating eyes on me. But I barely hear a thing she’s saying. My eyes are cast across the table on Eirabella, already deep in conversation with Caelum, who keeps touching her arm as he speaks. Her entire face is lit up as she looks genuinely engrossed in what he’s saying, and when he leans in, his lips almost brushing against her ear, she laughs.
She. Fucking. Laughs.
There’s no denying now that it’s pure, burning jealousy that fuels the roar of blood rushing past my ears.
As I stare at them, willing my cousin to keel over from a heart attack so I can take his seat, my mother leans over to Julietta, her voice polite as always. “Your dress is lovely, Julietta.”
Julietta beams, clearly pleased. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Eirabella suggested we swap seats so I could spend some time with Rylan since he’s been gone so much recently. And so she could get to know Caelum more.”
Her words send me over the godsdamned edge.
The thought that Eirabella orchestrated this, that she purposely moved away from me and moved Julietta here in her place, makes me lose whatever tenuous grip I still have on my sanity. Why in the world would she think I’d want to spend more time with Julietta? And how could she just push me away like I mean nothing to her? And for him?
I can barely manage to get through the rest of the dinner, my mind consumed with seething thoughts of Eirabella and this inexplicable distance she’s put between us. Nothing else matters, no one else in this room matters.
As soon as the king and queen rise to leave, signalling the end of dinner, I throw my napkin down and storm over to Eirabella, ignoring Julietta’s invitation to share a nightcap. From his seat next to her, Lord Barrow stops mid-sentence and looks up at me, startled, but I don’t care. I fix him with a withering glare that has him scrambling out of his seat, and I take it without hesitation.
“That was incredibly rude,” she hisses, the longest sentence she’s said to me all night.
“Do I look like I give a fuck what Lord Barrow thinks of me?”
She narrows her eyes at me and then starts to pivot in her chair to face Caelum.
Pulling on her chair, I yank her hard toward me. Her body slams against mine, but she quickly shuffles away from me.
My hand reaches out, grabbing her wrist, holding her in place. “We need to talk,” I say, my voice edged with the desperation I can’t fully contain.
Eira stares straight ahead, her expression unreadable. “No, thank you. ”
The tight thread holding what’s left of my civility together snaps. “I wasn’t asking. We’re talking. Now.” I fix a stare that I’m sure confesses everything inside me. But she keeps looking away like she hasn’t heard a word I’ve said. I squeeze my eyes shut once before adding, “Please, Eirabella. Talk to me.” If I sound like I’m begging, it’s because I am.
She must hear it in my voice, because she glances at me, eyes as cold as the ice shields she’s learned to conjure. “What about?”
“This!” I gesture between us, frustrated by the distance she’s put there. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”
An eyebrow raises, her cool demeanour only fueling my desperation. “Like what?”
“Like you’re avoiding me,” I say, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “You’ve been cold all evening. You barely said a fucking word all dinner.”
She shrugs, the movement infuriatingly nonchalant. “I’ve been talking to people.”
“Talking to everyone except me,” I snap, unable to hold back the bitterness. “And you swapped seats with Julietta. Why? For gods’ sake, why did you do that?”
Her gaze hardens, but not before I see the flicker of hurt dance across her irises. “I honestly didn’t think you’d mind,” she replies, revealing nothing of that hurt in her voice. “I just thought I’d move so you could be with someone you’d prefer. It’s not like I was the dinner companion you wanted.”
I flinch, the words like a spear to my heart. Can she really be that blind? “That’s not true, Eirabella,” I insist, leaning in, her scent engulfing me. “You know that’s not true.”
She spins in her seat to meet my eyes front on, challenging me. “Do I? Because you’ve been sending nothing but mixed signals ever since I met you, Rylan. What am I supposed to think? One minute you kidnap me from my home and won’t give me anything but one-word answers. Then you hold me in my sleep, supposedly to save me from a nightmare, and then yell at me when we wake up like it’s my fault. Then you bring me here and insist that I’m supposed to be the new Aquilith, then you leave me here for a week on my own without the magic I need to succeed. Then you invite me on a walk and it feels like we’re finally friends, that you’re starting to trust me; the next you’re brooding and ignoring me again. Then you’re organising a picnic for me. Then you won’t train with me for two days, not even bothering to tell me yourself this morning. What do you want from me? You can understand why I’m confused. Do you even know?”
The question catches me off guard, and for a moment, I’m at a loss for words. What do I want from her? The truth is, I don’t even know. I just know that I can’t stand the distance she’s put between us. I’ve missed her. In just the last hour, without her pretty smile, her warm laugh, her witty comments, and even though she’s been sitting right next to me, I’ve missed her. How fucking ridiculous is that? But it’s tearing me apart from the inside out, this gnawing, clawing need to be close to her, only to be rebuked at every turn.
“I just want you to talk to me,” I say finally, the words more vulnerable than I intended. “I want to know why you’re acting like this. Why you’re pushing me away.”
Her expression softens for a moment, and I think I see a glimpse of the warmth I’m used to. But then it’s gone, replaced by the same cold mask that could give mine a run for its money. “Why do you care?” she asks quietly, her voice cutting through me. “It’s not like I’m someone you’d ever choose, am I, Your Highness ?”
The words hit me like I’ve been rammed by a horse and carriage, and I’m winded .
She heard. Of course she heard. Because the gods fucking hate me. The realisation makes my desperation grow, a hollow ache spreading through my chest as I grapple with the words to explain. I open my mouth to respond, but she’s already standing, pushing to her feet.
I follow, grabbing her wrist again and dragging her to a quiet side of the dining room.
“Let go of me,” she hisses, but it just makes my hand tighten around her wrist.
“Eirabella,” I say, desperate for her to listen. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Please, believe me.” I say the words, knowing it doesn’t matter.
“But it is what you said though, isn’t it?” she asks plainly. “That you could never choose to be with me? Those were your exact words, or did I hear you wrong?”
I falter, the weight of my own words crashing down on me. I hurt her. I did the one thing I promised her I wouldn’t. “Yes. Yes, I said that. But… Fuck!” I run a hand through my hair. “But it’s not what you think. It’s not because of you. It’s not you. It’s... it’s everything else. The expectations, the rules, the fact that you deserve someone who can be with you fully, without all of this—”
She cuts me off, yanking her hand out of my hold, her voice so cold it chills the blood in my veins. “Just stop. Stop. You don’t have to explain anything, and you don’t owe me anything. I understand completely. That I’m reckless and impulsive and you wouldn’t want to risk your kingdom over being with me.” She rubs the red marks I’ve left on her skin, and it tears at me that I might’ve hurt her physically as well as emotionally. “And whether you meant for me to hear or not, I did . I saved you having to say it to my face. And, you know what? It actually all works out for the best, to be honest.” I hold my breath as she lifts her chin, eyes hard, focused on mine, unflinching. “Because I would never, ever choose you either.”
I reel back, stunned; the words hang in the air between us, sharp and final. Neither of us can take them back now.
Before I can stop her, she’s already halfway across the room, leaving me staring after her, stunned and reeling. I need to follow her, to say something—anything—to make her understand. But before I can move, a voice interrupts.
“Your Highness,” one of the king’s councilmen approaches, his tone respectful but firm. “The king has requested your presence in the assembly room.”
I clench my jaw, the familiar weight of duty settling over me like a shroud. There’s no escaping it, not even tonight. I stare in her direction for another second, even though she’s long gone. And maybe it’s all for the best.
She wants someone who could prioritise her. And I can’t.
She deserves someone who could chase after her. And I won’t.
But as I make my way to the meeting, my mind is consumed with thoughts only of Eirabella and the growing realisation that I may have already lost the best thing I never had.
“You’ll go on the road the day after tomorrow,” my father says, as the rest of the council leaves the room after the impromptu meeting. I simply nod. “I suggest you conjure up some more excitement by the time you get to Larethia, or else the negotiations will go nowhere.”
I grit my teeth. There’s no point in arguing, there’s no winning with him, ever. I turn to leave.
“Remember to organise for one of the other trainers to take over your disciple’s training while you’re gone,” he calls after me. “It’s not like she can afford to take any more days off.”
I swing around, temper snapped. “I can take care of Eirabella’s training without any input from you. You forcibly designated me her trainer after all, remember? Or would you prefer to take over for me? Please, be my guest. Take it off my roster of duties. I have enough as it is.”
He waits for a moment for the assembly room door to slam closed before he narrows his eyes at me. “You’ll watch your mouth when you’re speaking to your king. Or no begging by you, your mother, or even your little disciple will save you.”
“What are you talking about?”
That smug grin slides over his face. “Oh, you don’t know about that? The deal I made with your precious Eirabella that involves you? Well, well, well. Far be it from me to tell you. Just know that no amount of deals that these women you have wrapped around your finger is going to get you what you want. Only you can guarantee that. So, don’t forget what it is you’re wanting so badly.”
“I think we both know that what I want so badly is for us to never have to speak again,” I hiss, without hesitation.
He lets out a cold laugh that hurts my ears. “I could easily arrange that, son. Just step out of line again.”
And it’s only the image of my mother mourning me that stops me from opening my mouth one more time before I storm out of there.