24. Riggs
RIGGS
Dizziness rushed through his head as he swayed into his father’s brightly lit shop. The forge and work benches swirled in his vision, morphing into abstract shapes. Riggs blinked, attempting to clear his sight as he reached for his gloves, and slid them on.
Fuck.
If Riggs would’ve known they were leaving so early in the morning, he wouldn’t have drunk at all. His stomach churned, swirling viciously. Riggs groaned, glancing at Killian who was pounding full force on the anvil. It seemed today, Killian was the only one moving at a steady pace.
Sobriety pays off.
A few years ago, it was Killian who was puking his guts, unable to forge at all.
Guess it could be worse.
He inhaled acrid smoke, grabbing for his hammer and began working.
After an hour, Riggs' clothes clung to his skin. His mind cleared, and the nausea soon faded. Physical exercise was good for a hangover. He hammered the hot, burning iron on the anvil over and over again. It was no easy feat crafting a sword; it took patience and practice, and muscle—a lot of it.
Skills he learned at the age of thirteen.
Riggs wiped the sweat off his forehead, glancing down at the shape. Almost perfect.
But not quite.
With full force, Riggs slammed the hammer down, the face clanking loudly against the steel. He rolled his neck, catching the movement of Zander’s mouth, but heard nothing. Not with the ringing in his ears. He ignored him, continuing his work.
Riggs hardly said three words to Zander after last night. And he wasn’t going to. It was typical for Zander to speak about women in that way. Hell, he’d spent most of his life egging him on. Until Esemeray.
Another slam on the sword, this one harder than the last.
Zander and Riggs had shared women before, on multiple occasions. He probably had thought it was just another fuck at the brothel.
This morning, when Riggs slipped out of the guest bedroom, he found Zander leaning on the pillar, waiting.
Waiting for his turn?—
After a few minutes, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Riggs bit his lip; setting his tools down on the anvil, he pulled his glove off with his teeth, turning around to see who had the audacity to stop him from finishing his piece.
Zander.
“You picked the wrong time.” Riggs curled his lip back and growled, “What do you want?”
Zander scratched the side of his face. “Did I do something wrong?”
Riggs scoffed. “Clearly not in your mind.” Not caring to say another word, he slid his glove back on and reached for his hammer. Idiot.
“Is this about Emmy?” Zander said carefully.
Riggs slammed his eyes closed, his blood boiling.
“It’s…you’ve never cared before…about anyone… I thought it’d be like before.” Zander paused. “You know at Titay’s Brothel…it was your birthday, so I figured…”
Riggs looked at him with burning ire. “If you can’t tell a lady from a whore, perhaps I’ll mistake your face for an anvil.”
“Fuck, man.” Zander exhaled, his breath reeking of stale rum. “I had no idea.”
“You never fucking do.” Riggs' hands bunched. “Read the room, and get the hell away from me.”
“What’s going on?” Killian butt in, dusting his palms.
“I said something about Emmy,” Zander explained with a sigh. “I’m trying to apologize.”
Killian glared at Riggs, shaking his head, and continued working.
“I said—” Riggs gripped the hammer, and took a step closer. “Get the fuck away from me.”
Zander took one step back, glancing at the tool in Riggs' hand. “I’m sorry, cousin.”
Riggs seethed, throwing the hammer on the anvil, steel clanking through the space.
“Why do you have to be such a brute? Why can’t you have an ounce of respect for a lady?
An ounce Zander…one fucking ounce.” Riggs pushed at his chest. “Gods, the reason why I fucked—” Riggs paused, lowering his voice.
“You introduced me to sin on a silver platter, and turned me into the worst version of myself.” He pointed in his face. “And I should hate you for it.”
Truthfully, he couldn’t blame Zander.
For it was his own actions. Some nights he went alone.
Zander’s cheeks turned crimson. “I thought you liked it. The women… I saw the way you were with them…never mind.” Zander cleared his throat.
“I misjudged you.” Zander’s cheeks slackened.
“I see that you care for her. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.
If I get the chance, I will apologize to her.
” His eyes were lined with tears. “All I have is you, Killian, and Uncle Rhidian.” A pause.
“We’re family…and I love you… I’m sorry. ”
Riggs' breathing calmed, his fists uncurling. Sometimes he’d forgotten Zander’s mother died when he was only five—that he was left with a dead beat alcoholic for a father.
Plus, it was the only time Riggs had heard his cousin speak with any maturity.
He met Zander’s stare, clearing his throat, and admitted, “She’s…
special to me.” The confession struck a chord deep within him.
A sad smile bloomed on Zander’s face. “She’s lucky, you know. You are the smartest person I know.”
Riggs cracked a smile. “Eh, I just read a lot.”
Zander chuckled. “You know I cannot read.” He wiped at his straight nose, leaving a layer of grime behind. “So, there you have it.” He playfully threw a punch at Riggs' shoulder. “Are we okay?”
Riggs nodded. “Yeah, yeah we’re okay, Z.”
“You have to admit, we did have some fun times at Titay’s.”
Riggs brushed him off with a laugh. “I got some good sketches in.” His stomach sank, cheeks heating.
Zander patted him on the shoulder. “Think of it as an art project.”
Riggs faked a laugh. “Guess you’re right.”
Still, what he had done, how he had treated those women. Drawings or not, Riggs didn’t have good intentions when he had instructed them to pose. When he had told them exactly where, and how he had wanted them to touch themselves.
What he made them do?—
“Boys, we need to talk,” Rhidian boomed, leaning on a wooden beam in the shop. He met Zander’s gaze and shook his head. “Not you, Zander. Just my boys.”
Riggs' stomach plummeted. The last time he heard his father use that voice was years ago, when Killian had taken the man’s life in that barfight—the same night Killian almost lost his own.
Killian wiped his hands on his apron, giving Riggs a look.
He knew that look.
We’re fucked.
“Zander, go finish the forge,” Rhidian said, crossing his arms and jerking his head toward the back. Riggs handed Zander the tongs without meeting his stare, following Killian and his father to the back of the shop where all their meetings were held.
Leaning against the far wall, his father’s face turned weary. When he finally uncrossed his arms, Riggs spotted a letter in his hand.
Riggs' heart thundered. Who visited us all the way out here?
His father asked, staring only at Riggs, “Would you care to explain who Emmy is?”
Riggs' chest tightened. He puffed his cheeks, his heart nestling among his toes. “My friend?—”
“I am not in the mood for your bullshit. Don’t assume I’m dense enough to lie to me.” His features hardened, holding up the letter. “Dagon guards just visited. And guess who they’re looking for?”
Riggs shrugged, his heart hammering. “Elora?”
Rhidian swore low. “Don’t play me for an idiot.” He waved the letter. “The girl you danced with, she’s missing.”
Riggs opened his mouth to speak. “I?—”
“I am not done yet.” His father’s stare turned lethal. “I have a good feeling the girl staying at our house is somehow connected to this. Tell me, am I wrong?”
Riggs gulped, his tongue unable to work.
Killian said, “You are not wrong.”
“Godsdammit!” His father banged his fist against the wall, staining the stone red. “Read the fucking letter, Riggs!” He shoved the letter hard against Riggs' chest.
It had been a long while since his father had been angry with him. As he unfolded the letter, a wave of nausea slammed into his gut.
On behalf of King Gabriel and Queen Loreli, an urgent search is being conducted for Princess Esemeray. We implore all citizens to remain vigilant. A substantial reward awaits those who aid in her safe return. The very fate of our kingdom rests on her return.
Riggs swallowed hard, meeting his father’s stare. “I can explain.”
His father breathed heavily, raking his hands through his hair.
“She found us. And for the record, I had nothing to do with her escape?—”
“She, as in Emmy, as in, Princess Esemeray?”
Riggs nodded, his shoulders slumped. “Yes.”
“Whose brilliant idea was it to bring her to our home?” Rhidian questioned, wiping his busted knuckles on a rag.
Killian jerked his chin toward Riggs. “I was as pissed as you are.”
“And yet you still lied, Killian. This isn’t like you.” His father gripped his forehead, meeting Riggs' gaze. “What were you thinking?”
His mind surged with panic, and suddenly he had no words. Was he selfish for wanting her to stay with him? Was he wrong for feeling the need to protect her? Comfort her?
He’d tell his father the truth. He deserves it.
Riggs explained calmly, “She’s not safe, that’s why she left. The queen…she abuses her.” In the corner of his eye, Riggs could have sworn Killian clenched his jaw, his fists too.
“It is not your job to protect her!” His father took one step closer.
“But it is my job to protect you.” He bared his teeth.
“She needs to leave our home immediately. If that girl has one ounce of care in the world for you, she will not hesitate to return from whence she came.” He pointed a finger in Riggs' face. “Do I make myself clear?”
Riggs' breathing faltered, his world tilting into despair. “Yes, sir.”