Raithe
Within a week, all of Gaianos learned of Rahzlyn’s success.
Whispers trickled into the palace of the realm’s reluctant merriment.
Some took Rahzlyn’s unprecedented Choosing as a good sign, whereas most believed it to be an omen of the curse’s continued peril.
Maryn remained unusually absent, tucked away in her own chambers leading up to Rahzlyn’s ceremonial trial set for tomorrow.
With the return of all the barons and the necessary preparations, her frenzied schedule scarcely allowed a moment for us to talk. It was for the best. My lips still burned with the memory of hers, craving more. A mere flash of her skin had my own tingling in the places I’d held her in the pool.
I’d denied myself many things over the years and been content to do so.
Until now. Until her.
I’d never kissed anyone—not really, and not like that. Taking cues from Rahzlyn’s body, my own seemed to know precisely what to do. I wasn’t sorry for any of it, only that it hadn’t been enough.
“What are you smiling about, boy?” Nio mused from his workstation.
“Excited to finally have the curse broken,” I said, wiping the smile from my mouth with my napkin. I pushed my plate aside. “Was that garum I tasted?”
“Imported from Cancer. A little preview of the menu I’m making for the coronation feasts to come. I couldn’t help but splurge for our princess. She deserves the best, don’t you think?”
“Indeed.” Full and satisfied, I returned to my chambers to freshen up for my impending post. I didn’t dare think that it could be my last post with Rahzlyn.
Felaf had been unusually quiet since the baron’s ball. As I approached the alcove outside Rahzlyn’s chamber, she wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I knew she resented me for the lies I’d forced her to keep, but this was different. And I feared why.
When she made to leave, I stepped in her path. “I told Rahzlyn the truth. She knows about her grandfather.”
It was an olive branch of sorts. It was also a test to confirm if my suspicions for her distance were true.
“I know.” Felaf halted, her gaze slicing into mine.
Fuck.
The thought had gnawed at me, but I’d stupidly hoped her silence these past few days meant she hadn’t heard us after all.
Contempt boiled in her eyes. “Put an end to it, Raithe. Or I will.”
I stiffened. Her respect for the law ran deep—as it should—but I’d never seen her so livid. She had every right to turn me in. I’d broken my vow of chastity.
Rahzlyn wouldn’t swear her oath until her coronation. But after that…
If we acted on our desires again, the courts would vote to have us both executed.
Dread coiled low in my stomach.
Not long after Felaf departed, hurried footsteps pattered up the staircase. Gertah, surprisingly.
“Just the guardian I was looking for,” the physician said breathlessly. She nearly keeled over by the time she reached me.
I steadied her. “You alright?”
Gertah smoothed her frizzy, gray hair. “I have something for you.”
She untucked a black leatherbound book from under her shoulder. Hesitating for only a moment, she extended it toward me. “I’ve been selfishly holding on to it for the past year. But after learning what was done to Hector’s books, I knew it was time to share what remained of him.”
I took the book and flipped through it, starting from the beginning. I froze immediately, recognizing the familiar, comforting scent.
Hector’s journal.
“How do you have this?” I asked carefully. “More importantly, why do you have this?”
Gertah patted my arm. “For all the grandeur of this palace, it is a lonely place to be. Especially for a guardian. Over the years, Hector and I grew fond of one another.” She laughed tenderly. “It took me nearly a decade to realize nearly all his visits to the infirmary were self-inflicted.”
I never thought their relationship was anything beyond platonic. No one had.
“We never acted on anything,” Gertah said quickly.
Too quickly. “But we found a comfort greater than friendship. He would confide in me about many things, including you.” She smiled.
“You held a special place in his heart. He never had any children before becoming Chosen, thankfully. You became the son he never had but secretly wished for.”
The simple act of breathing stung. Pushing through the discomfort, I resisted the urge to cut the conversation short. I wouldn’t do that to his memory or mine. Not this time.
Gertah’s face saddened. “He left this with me the night before he died. I could tell something wasn’t right with him.
He seemed troubled, pacing back and forth in the infirmary while I stocked up on my tonics.
I let him be, working through his thoughts.
Every now and then he’d scribble something down in here.
He didn’t even notice he’d left it behind after bidding me good night.
I took it up to my chamber, assuming I would return it to him the following night. ”
“But then he died.”
Gertah reached for my shoulder. “Keep it safe.” She turned and retreated, leaving me dumbfounded in the hall.
There were too many things running through my head. Too many emotions to process.
Mustering the courage, I flipped through the pages to the end.
I would take time to read this sacred book, but I needed to know what his last words had been.
I stopped once I found the last written page.
I ran my fingers over the grooves of the ink on the paper.
He was a fast writer, with his words often barely decipherable.
My gaze snagged on the last legible sentences beneath blots of smudges.
It’s not real. The curse is not what it seems.