Chapter 1 #2
Cursing under his breath, he changed direction and began to wander the upper floors.
The highest were delegated to the servants, but there was an entire royal wing filled with suites, a private reading chamber, his father’s study, parlors, a sparring chamber, and more.
His apartment was not located anywhere near the royal wing.
The king had wanted the distance between them to be obvious while he was growing up, so he’d had an apartment renovated in the guest wing to better suit a young prince.
As he got older, he began to appreciate the distance. He’d steered clear of the royal wing as much as possible, if only to avoid Maddox’s menacing presence. He hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near his father’s disdain.
His feet brought him to the royal apartment.
There were no longer guards stationed outside the door.
They’d been dismissed just before his father’s funeral.
He strode in and looked at the mess. The sight pleased him.
He’d ransacked the entire place already—twice—in search of the keys.
There’d been no sign of them. Where the fuck were they? !
What if he never found them? What if he never got her out of that damned cell?
An angry cry tore from his lips. He turned, reaching for the nearest breakable thing, a bust of one of Raeria’s long dead kings.
He wrenched it from its stand, smashing it against the wall.
The sculpture broke into large chunks with a loud thud, falling all over the rug.
He found a vase next, enjoying the sound of it shattering.
He reached for an entire bookcase on the far wall.
The loud crash and scatter of his father’s books did nothing to alleviate his fury, his despair.
Breathing hard, he sank to the floor.
He hated this room. Hated the bad memories here—all those times his father summoned him for one thing or another.
Why couldn’t his mother have survived all those years ago?
Why hadn’t she been stronger? Everything would be different, with her here.
Instead, he’d never had the chance to know her, only what others said of her.
He’d killed his mother in childbirth and his father had never forgiven him for it.
As a boy, he’d sneak into her chambers, usually after his father’s punishments.
King Maddox treated her rooms like a shrine, changing nothing.
Sometimes, when his punishments were particularly bad, he’d slip under his mother’s sheets and imagine he could still smell her, hints of floral and sweet vanilla.
This behavior had lasted until he was eight, when his father discovered him. The king had Leone’s rooms sealed up after that. He sneered and said it was childish for a boy his age to pine over a mother he never knew.
He pushed to his feet and went to the private corridor joining their rooms. There was no seal from this access point. Had it always been that way? Maddox was ever a hypocrite.
He tried the knob, holding his breath. It clicked and he pushed the door open.
It led into her sleeping chamber. He hesitated on the threshold before slipping inside.
A weight settled over his chest. It was exactly as he remembered it.
Warm cream tones with pink and gold accents.
He strode across the room, peeking out into the sitting area.
The door leading to the outer corridor was still barred.
The sight of that bar infuriated him. How dare his father take away the one comfort he had as a boy?
! How dare he treat his mother’s memory like a monopoly!
Like he was the only one allowed to mourn her, since her son had never known her.
A child had every right to mourn a mother they’d never known, and to say otherwise was cruel.
He clenched his jaw and turned away. Queen Leone’s sitting room was feminine, with soft accents like pillows, plush rugs, and thick draperies.
There was a large painting over the fireplace.
His mother was a young woman, newly married, standing in a garden of roses, a big smile on her face.
Her doe eyes were sparkling and full of life as she cupped a bud.
Something tightened in his chest. She wasn’t much older than Mina here.
And because of him, she’d been stolen from the world.
He tore his gaze away. Vases of wilting roses decorated multiple surfaces, the water only slightly cloudy.
He went to the nearest and ran his fingers over the buds.
They cracked and broke away, fluttering to the floor.
They were still alive enough to be recent.
His father must have continued replacing them over the years, up until his death.
He glanced around the sitting room and his heart kicked up a notch. Maddox had loved Leone, enough to resent his son for being born, enough to replace her flowers long after she was dead. Gods, he’d even kept her place setting at the banquet table empty. Maddox had never let her go.
His eyes fixed on his mother’s sleeping chamber and he hesitated, then strode into the room.
He started his search at the armoire before moving on to the nightstands, bedding, and cabinetry. Unlike his father’s chambers, he was careful to place everything back exactly as it was. His touch was reverent.
His gaze landed on Leone’s large vanity and he froze.
He was holding a decorative vase. He carefully set it back on its pedestal and strode forward.
His heart took off at a gallop, like it might jump from his chest. The bejeweled box was positioned just in front of the mirror.
It sparkled up at him. He’d loved it as a child.
He’d sit down and wind up the movement, then listen to the tinny music over and over again.
It had been a wedding gift from his father.
He’d read the engraving many times over the years.
For my darling love, Leone. My future is blessed, knowing you will be in it.
—With love, Maddox
He hesitated, his fingers caressing the box’s jeweled surface, then he lifted the lid.