“Rhy,” Alucard said, clenching his fists, all playfulness gone. “I didn’t want to leave.”
“But you did.”
“If you would only listen—”
“No.” Rhy was fighting back another deep, internal tremor. The tension between love and loss, holding on and letting go. “I am not a toy anymore. I am not a foolish youth.” He forced the waver from his words. “I am the crown prince of Arnes. The future king of this empire. And if you want another audience with me, a chance to explain yourself, then you must earn it. Go. Bring me back this Inheritor. Help me save my city. Then, Master Emery, I will consider your request.”
Alucard blinked rapidly, obviously stricken. But after a long moment, he drew himself up to his full height. “Yes, Your Highness.” He turned and crossed the room with steady strides, his boots echoing Rhy’s heart as it pounded in his chest. For the second time, he watched someone precious walk away. For the second time, he held his ground. But he could not help the urge to soften the blow. For both of them.
“And, Alucard,” he called, when the captain had reached the door. Alucard glanced back, his features pale but set as Rhy said, “Do try not to kill my brother.”
A small, defiant smile flickered across the captain’s face. Laced with humor, with hope.
“I’ll do my best.”
I
No wonder Lila hated good-byes, thought Kell. It would have been so much easier to simply go. His brother’s heart still echoed in his chest as he descended the inner palace stairs, but the threads between them slackened a little with every step. What would it feel like when they were cities apart? When days and leagues stretched between them? Would he still know Rhy’s heart?
The air went suddenly cold around him, and Kell looked up to find Emira Maresh barring his path. Of course, it had been too simple. After all this, the king would grant him leave, but the queen would not.
“Your Majesty,” he said, expecting accusations, a rebuke. Instead, the queen’s gaze fell on him, not a glancing blow, but something soft, solid. They were a cyclone of green and gold, those eyes, like leaves caught in a fall breeze. Eyes that had not held his in weeks.
“You are leaving, then,” she said, the words caught between question and observation.
Kell held his ground. “I am, for now. The king has given me permission—”
Emira was already shaking her head, an inward gesture as if trying to clear her own mind. There was something in her hands, a piece of fabric twisted in her grip. “It is poor luck,” she said, holding out the cloth, “to leave without a piece of home.”
Kell stared at the offering. It was a square of crimson, the kind stitched to children’s tunics, embroidered with two letters: KM.
Kell Maresh.
He’d never seen it before, and he frowned, confused by that second initial. He’d never considered himself a Maresh. Rhy’s brother, yes, and once upon a time, their adopted son, but never this. Never family.
He wondered if it was some kind of peace offering, newly fashioned, but the fabric looked old, worn by someone else’s touch.
“I had it made,” said Emira, fumbling in a way she rarely did, “when you first came to the palace, but then I couldn’t … I didn’t think it was …” She trailed off, and tried again. “People break so easily, Kell,” she said. “A hundred different ways, and I was afraid … but you have to understand that you are … have always been …”
This time, when she trailed off, she didn’t have the strength to start again, only stood there, staring down at the swatch of cloth, thumb brushing back and forth across the letters, and he knew this was the moment to reach out, or walk away. It was his choice.
And it wasn’t fair—he shouldn’t have to choose—she should have come to him a dozen times, should have listened, should have, should have, but he was tired, and she was sorry, and in that moment, it was enough.
“Thank you,” said Kell, accepting the square of cloth, “my queen.”
And then, to his surprise, she reached out and placed her other hand against his face, the way she had so many times, when he’d returned from one of his trips, a silent question in her eyes. Are you all right?
But now, the question altered, Will we be all right?
He nodded once, leaning into her touch.
“Come home,” she said softly.
Kell found her gaze again. “I will.”
He was the first to pull away, the queen’s fingers slipping from his jaw to his shoulder to his sleeve as he left. I will come back, he thought, and for the first time in a long time, he knew it was the truth.
* * *
Kell knew what he had to do next.
And knew Lila wouldn’t be happy about it.
He headed toward the royal cells, and was nearly there when he felt the gentle smoothing of his pulse, the blanket of calm around his shoulders that came with the priest’s presence. Kell’s steps faltered but didn’t stop as Tieren fell in step beside him. The Aven Essen said nothing, and the silence dragged like water around Kell’s limbs.
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “I’m not running away.”
“I never said you were.”
“I’m not doing this because I want to go,” continued Kell. “I would never—” He stumbled over the words—there was a time when he would have, when he had. “If I thought the city would be safer with me in it—”