Chapter 21 Cethin #3
“All the more reason for pleasantries,” Tybalt said, lifting his glass of liquor in a cheers motion before taking a drink. Lowering the glass, his features morphed into something a little more serious. “Do you still plan on returning to Aimonway tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Cethin answered tightly, his grip on the ale bottle flexing.
“I’m sure you’re ready to leave,” Tybalt said too casually. “When was the last time you were here?”
Cethin dragged his eyes back to the male. “That’s not important.”
“I think it might be.”
Cethin’s gaze flicked to Razik again, and even if he wanted to have this conversation, which he didn’t, there was no way in fuck he was having it in front of that male.
“You don’t think being here has had any impact on your decisions these last few days?” Tybalt questioned, with a knowing look on his face and both hands wrapped around his liquor glass.
“No,” Cethin ground out. “I think being attacked numerous times in the last few months has impacted my decisions. I think being no closer to figuring out who or what is responsible for the Fae deaths these last decades has impacted my decisions.”
Tybalt nodded, and Cethin hated the look on his face.
The male was easier to deal with when he was the Commander and Cethin was the king.
The sympathy and understanding staring back at him now?
This was not that. This was a male who’d known him his entire life.
Who was family. Who had suffered as much as he had, just in different ways.
But all he was doing was dragging up the past. Things no one could change.
Things they needed to move on from, and the best way to move on was to accept change.
“I just think—”
“I just think you’re trying to fill a role that you’re not meant to,” Cethin interjected harshly.
“Watch it, Sutara,” Razik growled, smoke unfurling with his exhale and black sparks flickering at his fingertips.
Cethin sneered at the male. “Everyone at this table knows the reason you’re still a part of any of this is because of your relations. That does not extend to you getting to interfere in anything else.”
“Cethin,” Tybalt tried. “Razik understands there have been mistakes made—”
“Mistakes?” Cethin snarled.
“Mistakes that everyone is guilty of,” Tybalt continued. “The Cadre will be dealt with. I can assure you of that.”
“And Razik? Who is no longer part of the Cadre?” Cethin pushed, bringing his eyes back to the male.
Razik was tense, every muscle rigid. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he held his godsdamn tongue for once.
“Razik is still the best option for Kailia’s guard, especially considering the escalation of attacks,” Tybalt said. “If you set aside the grudges and think like the king you are, you’d agree.”
Cethin scoffed. “It’s because of the grudges and the animosity between us that I believe he’s not the best option,” he countered. “How can that not affect his job when it requires us to be around each other constantly?”
“I can’t do my job when you won’t let me,” Razik ground out. “How am I supposed to keep her protected when you keep her sequestered in your rooms at all times?”
“I’ve discussed the situation with him extensively,” Tybalt cut in again. “He understands that some…adjustments need to be made on his end. If Kailia’s safety is truly your primary concern, you’ll do the same.”
How was he supposed to argue that? When he was about to tell them she would be his wife tomorrow night? When his argument for that was all for her safety?
As much as he hated to admit it, and never would out loud, Tybalt was right.
Razik was the best choice. His skill and wit were leagues above the others because of his bloodline.
He put in just as much work as everyone else, trained just as hard, but his bloodline gave him an advantage.
That was something Cethin could relate to all too well.
“Fine,” Cethin conceded begrudgingly. “For Kailia.”
Tybalt nodded, visibly relaxing some and taking another drink of his liquor. “When will you return tomorrow?”
“Midday,” Cethin answered tightly, thinking he might grab another bottle of ale to take upstairs with him after this.
“And tomorrow night?” Tybalt pushed.
Cethin knew exactly what he was asking.
He met the male’s eyes. “Tomorrow night I gain a wife.” He slid his stare to Razik and added with a sardonic smirk. “Her choice.”
“You sure about that?” Razik asked, arching a brow.
“Razik,” Tybalt barked. Then he stood, bracing both his hands on the table and leaning in.
Gone were the compassion and understanding.
This was the Commander. This was the male that had been his mother’s guard and Hand of the Queen.
“This is the problem. It has nothing to do with training or responsibilities or being well-suited for a role. The problem is the two of you. Neither of you is going anywhere, so fix your godsdamn shit.”
He straightened, rounding the table and heading for the door, but he stopped near Cethin.
Holding his stare, he said, “You’re making a mistake with this, but I know you’re going to do it anyway.
Sacrifices follow mistakes. Mistakes are the reason you hold that throne right now and can’t stand to be in this house.
Be prepared to face those sacrifices when the time comes. ”
Cethin took two bottles of ale and the liquor bottle back upstairs with him that night.