32. Chapter Thirty-Two Xander
Chapter Thirty-Two: Xander
Siyala’s words chase me all the way back to the barracks. The feel of her in my hands and against my mouth haunts me the entire length of my shower, the water hot enough that I hope it might burn the sensations from my body. Did you even care?
Turning the water off, I yank my towel from its hook on the wall and wrap it around my waist. Of course, I fucking cared.
I hadn’t been lying when I told her about how I needed to compartmentalize.
How I was forced to play god with the choices I had been given because I was working for a life better than the one I received.
One better for every person in the kingdom tired of the oppression that was part of their story for entirely too long.
My godsdamn father is the king, and still, it is me who sacrifices pieces of my soul in order to bring him down.
It is his blood and his vow that flows through my veins, and still, I must give more of myself because if I don’t, no one else can.
I have been given the unique ability to actually make a difference, yet in my hunt for creating this better world, all it seems I am capable of doing is causing pain. Death and destruction.
My mother’s screams press against my mind, her pleas for the king to leave me alone as he ordered his guard to slice into me over and over again a persistent echo.
Stumbling towards the sink, I brace my hands against the counter.
Then there was Cade, a good and honest man, my best friend, yet I still was compelled to obey the king and hurt him in a way that there was no coming back from. And Marigold…
My chin drops to my chest as my fingers curl towards my palms.
Siyala. Gods, the name is as beautiful as she is, but it stings me to even think it.
She had used me to try to gain her freedom, and I’d lied to her to try to gain her trust. Maybe it was a foolish endeavor from the start.
The king won’t kill her yet, but it’s only a matter of time before he gets tired of not receiving answers and sends Simon in to do the job that I can’t. Won’t.
Layered beneath the bitter truth of her betrayal lies something softer, something sweet.
I shut my eyes against the memories that assault me.
Her looking up at me through full lashes.
The way she gasped the first time our lips met, and then her hunger when she came back for more.
Her moans, gods above, her moans. It felt intoxicating, like I could get drunk off of the sound alone.
My arousal becomes evident, and I palm myself through the towel, remembering the way her hips rolled and her body responded to the way I touched her.
In my head, I see her want for me. I believe that when she kissed me it was because she simply wanted to and not because she was trying to distract me. Not because she was using me.
My eyes fly open, and I grit my teeth, my desire wiped away like the stain it is on my being.
Never let anyone get close. That is my third rule and the second I have broken in Siyala’s name.
She isn’t Marigold, some pathetic inner voice chastises.
This isn’t the same thing. But it is. Marigold may have been crueler in her deception, but what was the difference between a knife and axe when both could still cut deeply?
Pulling myself away from the mirror, I head to the closet and dress.
The king had wanted my presence after I visited Bella—Siyala.
Panic begins to weave its way into my veins.
I’d hoped that, just by conversation, I might be able to piece together something to give him, but that is impossible now.
“Fuck,” I mumble to myself, buckling my armor together.
I pat my hands down my body once I’m done, counting the weapons strapped to me when a different thought occurs. The king hasn’t set a new date for the next trial of the Trusted. Alden’s presence has been scarce around the castle, but that isn’t exactly surprising. I had told him to leave me alone.
I make a mental note to check in with Grayson about him—and to see what I can glean from the king about the next trial—as I stride for the door, my three rules at the forefront of my mind.
I find King Dolian in the throne room, Jerrick and Simon his only company. Well, and the tall magical mirror that stands proudly in the center. He paces in front of it, murmuring beneath his breath as he walks.
“They need to answer. Why aren’t they answering?
” he shouts, his face turning red beneath his cropped beard.
He turns to look at Simon, his normally regal facade cracked.
Dark circles cling under his bloodshot eyes, his expression unnerving.
“We must have men who can spy—ones who can get more information!”
“We do, Sire, but they need more time to gather it.”
King Dolian growls and stands in front of the Mirror once more, the hand that was slipped in his pocket coming out. “You promised it would only take a few weeks!” Bringing his hand up to his nose, he closes his eyes as he drags in a deeper breath.
Simon clears his throat, my attention diverting to him. Though he stands tall, he fidgets nervously. I’d mock him for it if it wasn’t the first time I had seen him as anything other than calm and collected. “The Mage Kingdom is a big place, and she could be hiding anywhere within it.”
“With him,” the king growls, the possession in his voice making me nauseous. “King Sadryn Daxel of the Mage Kingdom!” Shoving his hand back in his pocket, the king stares ahead at the Mirror as it ripples with the command of his words, turning smoky across the reflective glass.
My eyes widen, having never seen its magic work in person before. When I glance at Simon and Jerrick, I find their attention wholly on the Mirror, the latter leaning forward to try and gain a better look from where we stand off to the side.
Abruptly, the image clears, revealing a head of wavy black hair and a set of dark gray eyes.
The man whom I presume to be the king startles back a step, cursing his surprise at seeing King Dolian.
Looking past the king’s shoulders, I bite down on my tongue to hide my own surprise at who else joins the mage king.
Princess Rhea is right there, and standing next to her is Flynn. What are they doing with the king?
“King Sadryn, I’m glad to see you’ve finally answered my call.” King Dolian’s voice slips just a little when he notices them. He pulls his hand from his pocket, fists forming at his sides as he stares at Flynn. “You.”
“Well you have my attention now, King Dolian,” King Sadryn says, trying to step more into frame as if he can block the princess and Flynn. “What can I do for you?”
I examine the mage king, something about him familiar. But I’ve never interacted with a mage before. Well, I guess except for— My gaze darts to Flynn, and I nearly choke out a disbelieving sound.
“You sent your son to infiltrate my kingdom?” King Dolian snarls as he comes to the same realization. Jerrick curses under his breath, prompting a withering look from Simon, but even the king’s advisor appears out of sorts, his own garish face devoid of color.
Flynn is the mage prince? Why was he pretending to be a mortal guard? I look to Princess Rhea again, her normally bright green gaze dulled as she stands utterly frozen, her eyes locked on King Dolian.
And he notices that too. “Hello, my darling Rhea.” The cadence of his voice makes me feel ill, his hand traveling into his pocket again.
What the fuck does he have in there?
“Are you having fun on your little adventure away from home?”
A growl rumbles from somewhere on that side of the Mirror, but Princess Rhea lifts her chin defiantly. “The Mortal Kingdom is not my home.”
King Dolian laughs, the sound broken. As if he’s trying to piece together enough notes to mimic one. “Don’t you remember what I told you? You can run and hide, but I will always find you.” He leans closer, his voice dropping. “You belong to me. You always have, and you always will.”
With each word spoken, the small amount of confidence the princess managed to muster disappears. Flynn—or fuck, what was the mage prince’s name again?—presses closer to her, something stirring in the shadows behind him.
“Enough,” King Sadryn commands, his dark brows lowering over his eyes. “Lady Rhea is not a thing to possess. She is a person who has chosen to stay in my kingdom. She is protected here, King Dolian, and there is nothing you can do to force her to go back.”
“She was stolen from me!” Chest heaving, King Dolian takes up all the available space in front of the Mirror.
Close enough that if it weren’t for the magic blocking him, he might actually be able to seize her.
“Rhea, I want you to listen very carefully. You are mine, and I will stop at nothing to bring you back to where you belong. If that means showing you the depths of what I’m willing to do, then so be it.
But it will be your hands dirtied with the blood of the sacrifices you’re willing to make so that you can play pretend with that lying prince! ”
The shadows behind the prince move, wafting up and over his shoulders until they cascade down his arms and around Princess Rhea, a cloak of horrifying, writhing black that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Incredible,” Simon whispers. Not the word I would use for whatever disturbing magic that is.
“I am going to kill you,” the mage prince vows.
“When she is back at my side and I have her in every way you cannot, it will be you who dies a slow and painful death.” King Dolian cocks his head, his voice deepening.
“Enjoy the safety of your people while you have it, King Sadryn. One can never be too sure when such a thing might be ripped away.” The magic of the Mirror swirls when he marches away, clouding the image of Princess Rhea until she’s gone, and the room is reflecting back at us.