Chapter Nine
CHARLIE
Weeks passed, and my head was still reeling from what Ava and I had done. It wasn’t supposed to happen… but it did. I was half convinced it’d been a dream, because there couldn’t be any world in which Ava and I connected physically after everything that happened.
Ava’s sheer avoidance of me over the following month solidified the reality, reminding me that the moment of passion we’d shared had in fact been real, and wasn’t some product of my delusional descent into madness. She wouldn’t be acting like I didn’t exist otherwise.
I didn’t understand. Ava gifted me that onesie she’d made, asked me to comfort her like that, and then we went right back to avoiding each other. It was like nothing had changed, but something was very different.
That onesie had meant so much to me. I was a foster kid all my life and didn’t have a family.
Ava and I had been a family, but she’d known I’d desired to be a father.
She had wanted to fulfill that desire, and give a child to me, but I’d messed any chance of that up.
I was the reason we weren’t going to have the children that I'd prayed for, and it was by far one of the worst consequences of my villainous actions.
I tried to convince myself it meant nothing, because it was dangerous to hope there was anything left between us.
She’d made this gift before we decided to separate, and it was merely a remnant of the love we once shared, not what remained.
It’d been a parting gift and nothing more.
I had to be grateful she left me with that much, because as much as it hurt to have a piece of her with me, it was the only thing that got me through these restless nights.
It was the end of January now. Ava and I hadn’t spoken in over a month. We hadn’t so much as been in the same room since we’d last had sex. I think we were both too scared to bring it up.
I didn’t know what we were doing. Were we divorcing, or not?
She didn’t seem sure, and neither did I, though our history demanded we sign those papers and be done with each other.
We couldn’t act like we didn’t care about each other during the day and be fuck buddies at night.
We’d ended up in bed because we were trying to forget how badly we were hurting, and that wasn’t going to lead anywhere.
Continuing to mess around would only drag this out.
A divorce seemed logical, even the right thing to do, in this situation.
But it wasn’t what I wanted. I desperately wanted her back— I wanted us back.
I missed our long, late-night conversations that went on for hours.
I missed playing music with her, and spending time together.
I missed the walks around the palace we took, driving in her car around the city, and the time we spent playing with Oberi.
And yes, I missed sharing my body with her.
That short tryst we’d had was only a taste of what we’d lost, and the memory of it was similar to drinking poison.
I missed how she felt, how she sounded, how she tasted.
It hurt more that it had happened at all, because it brought back everything I’d tried to move on from.
I couldn’t let her go when I remembered what it felt like to connect with her in that way.
I didn’t know how I could expect her to take me back. I wouldn’t, if I was in her position.
But that night we shared together… it was years of passion condensed into a single fragment of time that couldn’t be forgotten.
Ava had tried to cheat on me, and it had cut me to the bone when she’d admitted that.
It made me sick to consider the idea of her being in bed with another man, letting him touch her the way I did.
Yet she hadn’t been able to go through with it, and that meant something— I still meant something to her.
I’d hurt her so badly she’d considered doing the one thing that went against her identity.
It rattled me to know she’d been so desperate to find a way out of her pain, she was losing herself to do it.
She was still tangled up in me even though she was trying to break free.
The honest truth was she still meant the world to me.
Even if we signed those papers and she became my ex-wife, she’d forever be the greatest love of my life.
She could move on and find someone else, and it would be fine, because she wasn’t mine to cage, but I never would.
Any transgression or disloyalty she could deal me ultimately meant nothing, because there wasn’t a single betrayal she could commit against me that would stop me from loving her.
I wanted to say whatever happened between us was up to her, but that felt like a lie. This marriage wasn’t just her choice. There were two of us here, and though things needed to change, I wasn’t sure in what way. I was giving her space to make up her mind, but I needed to make a decision, too.
I just didn’t know what that decision was yet.
I busied myself with prince duties, which consisted mostly of royal lessons with Cameron, since he didn’t trust me with any real tasks.
He intended to take over Cassiel’s role as my mentor, to beat me into submission and shape me into the Emperor he wanted me to be.
A little too late on that front, but at this point, I didn’t care.
Cameron had spent weeks teaching me how to present myself to other royals.
It might’ve been relevant if we were in negotiations with other supernatural races, but we’d already formed our alliances, most of whom were already here in Ilamanthe.
Learning how to dance at royal functions and being educated on fine wines wasn’t going to win us any wars with the Warden, who was currently rampaging across the world and actively destroying cities in his wake.
But here I was, taking lessons on how to dress, what to say at events, and how to write a strongly worded letter.
That was going to be really useful once the Warden burst our doors down and killed us all. I was sure he’d appreciate my letter.
I didn’t give a fuck about my lessons with Cameron, but I attended these useless meetings to keep from making things worse between us. Cameron’s lessons were only getting stupider by the day.
I couldn’t take it any longer when he summoned me to the royal dining room and forced a fork into my hand. Oberi lay under the table at my feet, clearly annoyed that this was how he was spending his day, too.
“Today, you will learn how to properly hold a fork,” Cameron said.
I didn’t believe him. This had to be some sort of joke. “You can’t be serious.”
“You dare question the Emperor!?” Cameron bellowed. “It is time you are taught proper manners!”
I calmly set the instrument aside, though I wanted nothing more than to plunge it into my father’s eyeballs. “I know how to use a fork.”
Cameron scoffed. “You know nothing! You eat like you were raised on the streets.”
My inability to give a fuck had finally run out. “Maybe because I was.”
“And we must correct that,” Cameron stated arrogantly.
“Why?” I demanded. “So you can hide how shitty of a father you’ve been? Everyone already knows I was homeless, so why waste our time trying to convince them otherwise? There are people dying right now, and instead of helping them, you’d rather teach me how to hold a fucking fork!”
“This is what being Emperor is. You must command the respect of the people you are hosting. They’ll notice if you don’t have the proper table manners!” Cameron hissed.
Cameron no longer surprised me. The fact that he was more interested in impressing people than leading them into battle— or saving their lives— was right on brand.
It didn’t matter if I rocked the boat anymore, because this was a sinking ship. I said nothing as I rose from my seat and started for the door. Oberi followed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Cameron demanded.
“To find something useful to do. This shit is a waste of time.”
“This shit is how you become Emperor some day!” Cameron insisted.
I whirled back toward him. “Emperor of what? Our shield isn’t going to hold forever.
Once the Warden finds us interesting again, there won’t be anything to reign over.
You know that. It’s why you insist on filling your last days with this bullshit, so you don’t have to face the reality that you’ve already been beaten. ”
Cameron’s palm came out of nowhere. It cracked against the side of my face. I staggered backward, but it was only a step or two, because honestly, he hit like a little bitch.
Oberi lost his mind— he snarled at Cameron, lunging for my father’s face. I grabbed him by the collar that had been fastened to his neck and hauled him back.
Let me have him, Oberi growled, foaming at the mouth to rip out his throat.
It would’ve made things easier— for everyone, probably— but I still told him, No.
Oberi gave a few warning barks that sounded mean, and the fucker cowered away. My face stung, but I didn’t give Cameron the satisfaction of a reaction.
I wouldn’t hit him back. Somehow, my refusal to retaliate against Cameron had become some kind of agreement I’d made with myself.
I could easily put my father in his place.
I was bigger, stronger, and I was one hell of a better fighter.
Unlike him, I’d actually gotten into scraps my guards didn’t have to get me out of.
But that was the point. If I struck back, he won. And I’d burn in hell before I allowed my father to make me feel like I’d lost a singular battle against him, even if the whole kingdom ended up in our graves because of it.
Cameron gave a cruel laugh. “Fine. If you don’t want to participate in becoming a royal, and are adamant about sticking to your heathen ways, then there’s nothing more I can do for you. Feel free to galivant the palace, because I’m not teaching you anymore. You’re useless.”