3. Chapter 3 #2
He turned then, cloak sweeping, and strode back into the castle without another word. If Anwen decided I was a good fit, I might never return to the Tir. Would it have been too much to expect an embrace? Or did he simply expect me to fail again?
A heavy silence fell as the men averted their gazes and fidgeted in the tension left in their monarch’s wake.
The troops respected Berian, but they didn’t love him, and no one moved until I did.
Not the captains, not the sergeants. Every man in the yard waited, as they always had, for my word to continue preparations instead of the king’s.
Cam’s whispered hiss sliced through the quiet left behind. “He still treats you like a pawn. Acts like you didn’t deliver Darreth’s alliance to him on bended knee! And you bow as though you deserve every unkind word.”
I kept my hands busy with the nearest strap, tightening it too much as I fought against the urge to snap at him.
“It is my duty,” I said eventually. “Peace is worth more than pride.”
I had lived by that truth for so long that it felt etched into my bones.
“He wouldn’t have a kingdom without you!
” Cam spat. “He sends you out to do the bleeding and smiles while he does it. And you—” His voice lowered further, harsh.
“—you don’t see what’s right in front of your eyes.
These men would follow you into the Wythian Sea.
But you stand here, letting him insult you in front of them! You haven’t failed him once.”
My body swiveled with a sudden jerk to face my best friend.
Suddenly, the air between us hummed with magic from both sides.
Cam’s eyes focused on the betraying darkness eclipsing my vision.
When pushed, the entirety of my eyes would blacken, making me look exactly like the demon so many thought me to be.
“I’ve only done what Larethia needs, and I will continue doing so, Camrick,” I gritted out under my breath.
“That’s the problem, Owain,” Cam said quietly, looking more downcast than combative. “That’s all you fucking do.”
The shadows in my blood strained against their leash, hungry to draw screams and pain whenever my temper flared.
My anger wasn’t directed at him, but at myself.
In my mind, the shadows whispered that Cam was right: Berian wasn’t worth protecting anymore.There was no need to bow.
Chains could be broken, consequences be damned.
Rein it in, Wain. Unacceptable.
As long as the balance between Berian and me remained as it was, the military’s loyalty to me wouldn’t become a problem. All that seemed to matter to him was that he could tell me no and give me any order he wanted. All I cared about was keeping everyone safe.
Teeth grinding, I forced it down, willing the chaotic magic to fade as I swallowed the taste of my own blood from where I’d bitten my tongue.
I’d vowed long ago that no one under my command would ever fear me, especially not the man who’d gotten me through too many dark periods with his unwavering support.
Cam opened his mouth as if to argue then shut it again, the motion tight with his own restraint. His shoulders slowly sagged as he studied me, the tension draining out of him with every breath.
His reaction was rooted in hurt for me, not anger.
“It’s not his fault,” I said weakly. I still couldn’t bring myself to blame Berian. Experience had taught him to see me as a threat. My magic had manifested early—too early for a boy born with lethal powers that were amplified by emotion.
I’d acted out after my parents died, when Berian was still new to the crown, and he still saw me as that young man, even after all these years. Too much shadow in my blood, too little light.
The last trace of Cam’s grin vanished. “Your brother is intimidated by you because he knows you’re better than he is.
He’s paranoid they’ll try to give you the throne.
He criticizes you because it makes him feel bigger.
” He shook his head, disappointed in me—a feeling I was all too familiar with.
Cam walked away before I could respond, muttering curses under his breath.
I thought of stopping him to talk it out, but we had days of riding ahead of us to do that.
Half a breath later, my aunt Reina appeared, materializing from the shadows of the castle’s eaves as if by magic—and maybe she had—just in time to avoid Berian.
Their history spanned my entire lifetime, and it wasn’t a comfortable one.
Reina had come to live with my mother at the castle as a teenager.
Berian, nearly of an age with her, had developed an obsession he’d never quite managed to cure himself of—even decades later.
Reina, for her part, had made her feelings on the matter perfectly and repeatedly clear.
Today her long brown hair was styled into an intricate headpiece, adorned with tiny beads. She’d abandoned her usual understated way of dressing for the occasion. The dress she wore was elaborate; yards of damask fabric draped to keep her warm outdoors.
It was pretty, but I knew this was more about conveying a message. The only question was what.
“Nephew,” she said warmly. “Come, give your old aunt a hug.”
I scoffed. “Please stop pretending you’re decrepit. You haven’t even seen fifty winters yet.”
Several of my newer soldiers had watched her pass far too intently.
Like all part-Fae, she looked younger than her actual age.
But they would quickly come to understand that she wasn’t a woman to be complimented or charmed.
She was the true political powerhouse in Larethia—even if she mainly worked behind the scenes.
With a dramatic snap of her gloved fingers, loving the performance, she cast a ward of silence around us.
“Owain, do not listen to that buck-toothed,” she made an incoherent sound that was a growl and a retch all in one, “prig. You have not failed this kingdom by any measure.”
So, she’d been listening to my conversation with Berian.
The words left my mouth without emotion, a memorized script. “Yes, Auntie Reina.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she scoffed, but the smile she wore told me she wasn’t truly upset. “I’ve come to say goodbye… Well, at least until I know whether you’re staying in Tir Gelida.”
I lifted one eyebrow in question.
“What?” she asked. “You don’t truly expect me to stay here if you’re to marry, do you?”
“The Tir needs you,” I argued. She did even more political maneuvering than Berian to keep things running in our city, really in the whole damn kingdom.
“Fuck the Tir,” she spat.
And people wonder where I learned to curse.
“Crowns come and go,” she added flatly. “Men like you do not.”
Reina had filled the void left by my parents’ untimely deaths. Her steady presence always soothed the anxious writhing in my chest—even if she did act like a feral mother bear most of the time.
I threw my hands in the air. “Easy to casually spout treason when you know no one can hear you.”
Her smile only grew, showing all her teeth. “The dress is to show that I plan on fitting in with Gelida’s customs if your marriage forces me to leave Larethia.”
Gelidians did enjoy showcasing the beauty of their women. Still, my heart clenched at her words. “You truly mean to join me there?”
A shadow of sadness crossed her face, replacing her smile. “I cannot fathom why you would ever doubt it.”
“The people… I just…” I said weakly, allowing my vulnerability to show only to her.
“You don’t trust Berian not to make a mess of things without us. You’re just too damned loyal to admit it,” she snapped.
She was right.
“Owain, your men are waiting for you, so I won’t hold you any longer.” Reina grabbed my hands and gripped them with surprising strength for one so small. “This isn’t goodbye. This is see you soon. If you find the right woman out there, don’t push her away. Promise me.”
I swallowed through a suddenly constricted throat. “I promise,” I said, and meant it more than she knew. If I was surrendering this much of myself, I could at least try not to waste it.
She squeezed my hands one more time then launched herself at me for a hug. “You may be a foot taller than me, but you’ll always be my little Wain.”
I would miss her. It was incredibly selfish of me to be relieved that she wanted to leave her home to be with me, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to regret it.
She disappeared amongst the crowd of chain mail, likely headed to someone’s office to demand something ludicrous that she would get anyway.
The men continued their work, but I could feel the weight of their gazes as they glanced at me from the corners of their eyes. Looking to see how I would react. Looking to see who I would visit next.
They looked to me before they looked to their king. Even without the Mage Assembly fomenting unrest in Gelida, without Vaustin Maeron smiling at me over a scaffold, without Darreth’s warnings folded in my saddlebag, their loyalty could be the most destabilizing part of this.
The men responsible for defending Larethia looked to me before their king. What would happen after I left?
Camrick would fill my shoes easily but I didn’t trust Berian not to push him out. If they wouldn’t follow Berian, the military would fall apart from the inside out, playing right into the Assembly’s hands. They would find a way to turn my own men into the torch that burned Larethia down.
They had already tried to kill me at least once. If they understood what this alliance could cost them, they would try again before I ever reached Tir Gelida. I swung into the saddle and forced my hands to loosen on the reins.
Across the yard, Cam swung up onto his own horse, and for half a heartbeat our eyes met. The argument still sat unfinished between us, but his look said one thing clearly: watch your back, Wain.
What would come, would come. I just wanted to survive long enough to spare my people from suffering.