by Kyra Gregory
Thane’s hand went up to his head, another grimace crossing his features, “Let me do it,” he said. “I can take the blame.”
“You’ll take nothing else,” Riffin murmured, beginning to burn with anger. “If you want to help, stay here.” He swallowed the lump forming in the back of his throat, sighing. Although Thane didn’t deserve his anger, it seemed to be the only way to get him to do as he asked, to do what was good for him.
“Your Royal Highness,” Riffin jumped at the sound of him being addressed as he stepped out into the corridor. He looked over, finding Ellyn standing there, bowing her head, “Your mother wishes to speak with you,” she said.
“Can it wait?” he asked, biting the inside of his cheek when he caught himself too late.
“The King of Ludorum will be arriving soon,” she said, “and she would like to speak with you before then.”
His nostrils flared, frustration growing as he cast a glance down the two opposing corridors; one to Malia’s room and, the other, to his mother’s throne room. His father was right. Duty and love would often be in conflict with one another.
Chapter 12
MALIA BREATHED IN A deep breath as she made her way through the gardens of the Lionessan Capital. She was prompted to get some air, and sun, after hours in her chambers with Aylee. Between deciding on what jewellery she would wear on her wedding day, as well as how she would like her shared chambers to be decorated, she'd found herself seated inside for much longer than she would’ve liked.
With her bow in hand and her quiver swung over her shoulder, she allowed herself to marvel at the crystal clear skies above. There was not a cloud in the sky and, were Aylee not walking unnecessarily close, there wouldn't be a single shadow across the path in front of her.
As she came to the clearing where targets had been erected for sport, Aylee took a seat on the nearest bench. Malia despised having her every move overlooked but she couldn't hold it against her when she was only performing her duties.
"I don’t think archery is very becoming of a Lady," a voice piped up.
Malia glanced over her shoulder, squinting in the sunlight. The King of Ludorum wasn't a large man, standing only a head above herself, but there was something about him that remained unpleasant. His appearance wasn’t one that invited conversation—she supposed that was the reason he made it such a point to speak so much louder and so much more clearly than the rest. That’s what it was, she realised—he was demanding of attention.
“Not of a Lady and not of a future Queen,” he reiterated.
Malia lowered her bow and sucked in her cheeks for a second, contemplating her words. Thinking she was upset, Aylee leapt to her feet. One look into her eyes and Malia recognised her fear; she wasn’t a noble and, yet, she was ready to stand in Malia’s defence. Malia extended her finger to her, commanding her to stand down with one quick and simple gesture.
Glancing between the girl she served and the King of Ludorum, Aylee retreated from the conversation, taking cautious steps backwards before returning to her seat.
“How else do you suppose I spend my time?” she asked, feigning genuine interest.
King Niles gave a short shrug of his shoulders, his lips turned down at the corners as he approached, “Do you enjoy it?” he asked.
Were she not used to the roundabout manner in which nobles argued, Malia would’ve recoiled in surprise. But she was used to this, however uncertain she was of where this was going. “Very much so,” she said, studying him from beneath her lashes.
He paced, circling her like a shark with its prey, nodding and humming in agreement. “Then you should continue to pursue it,” he said. “However, you should do so after you find yourself another suitor.”
Malia resisted a scoff, raising a delicate brow in his direction as she continued to track his movements.
“What you most enjoy doesn’t suit that of a wife of a King,” he said. “Advocating for that which you most enjoy, you are best suited as the wife of anybody else.”
There was a flicker of hurt inside of her at the sound of his words but, knowing it was exactly what he hoped for, she found herself facing it with a smirk. “How bold you are,” she said, “to say such things the eve of my marriage.”
“I would hold no interest in your marriage, were you not about to marry above your station,” he said, punctuating his words by coming to an abrupt stop. “The truth of the matter is, you aren’t suited for the role.”
“Queen Sybelle doesn’t seem to agree with you,” she retorted. Watching as a flash of something crossed his features, she became intrigued. “Or is that why this upsets you so?” she asked, taking a short, advancing step. “Are you upset that she hasn’t taken your thoughts into consideration?”
“We are allies,” he growled through gritted teeth.
Out of the corner of her eye, Malia watched Aylee tense, her fingers clenching into fists in the skirts of her dress. Frightened as she was, Malia wasn’t nearly as fazed.
“Why him?” King Niles asked. “Your father and mother have elevated themselves enough—a suitor of another sort is within their means.”
“And what sort is that?” she asked, looking him up and down. She was used to being mocked for being the daughter of pirates but this… These insults amounted to something else. “Not a Prince? Or not an Heir?”
King Niles recoiled ever so slightly, nostrils flaring. “If it’s a Prince you want, I will give you my brother,” he said.
Malia scoffed, “For some reason unbeknownst, your brother has refused to marry for years,” she said. “And, hard as it may be to believe, love is the reason I choose to marry Riffin tomorrow—no other.”
“Love,” King Niles scoffed.
Malia resisted rolling her eyes, “Didn’t you believe in it once too?” she asked.
“Bad things happen when duty is forsaken for love,” he retorted, speaking quietly and through gritted teeth. “I learnt that from experience and he will too. You can spare yourself all of this by putting an end to it before it starts.”
“And what do you suppose I will be sparing myself?” she asked. “Being pushed aside?”
King Niles plucked an arrow from her quiver, then the bow from her hand, “Spare yourself the heartache,” he said. He positioned his arrow on the bow, pulling the string taut. “Spare yourself the realisation that you aren’t good enough to stand beside him.”
Try as she might to contain her frustration, Malia glared at him out of the corner of her eye as he took aim. When the arrow flew, she couldn’t care less for where it landed. “How are you so certain?” she asked.
“What about?” he asked.
“That I’m so incapable of being his wife,” she said.
Returning to pacing, he continued to circle her, “You weren’t raised for this,” he replied. “You don’t understand what it entails.”
Unable to bite back her smirk, Malia lowered her head in a bid to hide it. “Thank you, King Niles, for all your advice,” she said. “I shall not take it, of course,” she went on, before he could say a word, “but I suppose, with it, I will better enjoy proving you wrong.” She took her bow from his hand, snatching an arrow from her quiver with equal briskness, before turning on her heel and firing the arrow without much thought for aim.
King Niles stiffened in his effort to keep himself rooted to where he stood, keeping himself from recoiling in surprise as her arrow struck the centre of the target, sitting snugly beside his own.
“Perhaps then you will learn that there is advantage to be found in the way I have been raised. Perhaps you will see that it has made me better suited to stand against a rebellion—unlike your predecessors.”
King Niles finally tore his gaze from the target, meeting hers. He looked down his nose at her, scrutinising everything about her, only to be met with her determination. He gave a slow, long nod. Licking his lips, he shifted his weight, “Perhaps,” he agreed. He walked past her and she half-turned to watch him leave. He paused at the entrance to the cleari
ng, paying a short glance over his shoulder in her direction, “Enjoy your last night as a free woman,” he said. “I’m sure you will come to miss it one day.”
***
“You wished to see me,” Riffin started, entering the throne room.
His mother raised her brows at him, a look of no amusement on her face as her eyes remained dark and stern, “Would you like to try that again—perhaps with a little less apprehension this time?” she asked.
Riffin itched his brow, eyelids falling shut as a sigh escaped his lips, resetting his attitude. “You wished to see me,” he said, calmer now, absent at least some of the bitterness his tone had held the first time.
His mother’s features relaxed somewhat, though she didn’t look to be as satisfied with his response as he had hoped. “You will be visiting Darner on your travels,” she said. “Neyva has extended the invite, of course, on behalf of her people and we feel it is important to make the excursion.” Riffin gritted his teeth together, wedging his tongue between his molars to keep himself from biting back in anger. “I know you are upset about the remark she made earlier,” she went on.
“Aren’t you?” he countered. He couldn’t help himself—the anger he thought he’d ridded himself returned. “With poisons becoming more complex over time, Thane has taken to studying them for our own good and to insinuate that—”
His father rose from his seat, “I have already warned her,” he said. “I have told her that Thane will be joining you and that she must take a different attitude towards him. She is to keep her bitter remarks to herself and he is to be treated as her guest.”
Riffin scoffed and a smirk played at his lips, “I have seen the way this family treats guests,” he said. “None are exempt from insult or…” He stopped himself short and turned on his heel, giving his family his side until he could temper his anger. One breath, then a second, then a third—they weren’t nearly as helpful as he’d hoped. He shook his head, grinding his teeth together. “Can I not refuse?” he asked. “You don’t grant nobles your company if they have slighted you. Why should I?”
“Because she is your sister,” his father replied.
Riffin opened his mouth but his mother cut in, “Because if you want to have any hope of maintaining support for this marriage you will take it from wherever it comes,” she said. “You haven’t yet earned yourself the luxury of slighting those that have slighted you.”
“What are you saying?” he asked, softer this time.
There was a heavy knock, that of a guard’s staff against the door. It creaked open ever so slightly before opening fully. “Prince Pietros of Ludorum, your Majesty,” the guard announced.
Riffin pulled himself aside and his shoulders tensed. Looking as the doors shut, confusion hit him as Prince Pietros entered the room alone.
“I don’t recall asking for you, Prince Pietros,” the Queen said, rising from her seat.
“The King is otherwise engaged,” Prince Pietros replied, bowing his head.
“So engaged that he wouldn’t meet with his equal?” she asked.
Prince Pietros cleared his throat, shifting his weight beneath the dark stares of the Queen and her husband. As Riffin read the room, he moved to stand beside his father, taking on the same rigid stance that he had.
“He trusts that I will be sufficient at providing whatever it is you require,” he said.
The Queen bit the inside of her cheek, suppressing a sharp smirk. “Then provide me with this, Prince Pietros,” she started. She snatched a piece of stiff parchment from beneath her books and handed it to him. “Tell me how this invitation landed in the hands of a man who had every intention of sabotaging my son’s marriage.”
Prince Pietros’ brows furrowed together. While it wasn’t unusual for a noble, a royal family member, to play coy and dumb when faced with one of their plots, Prince Pietros was either very good at it or genuinely confused, something visible in his eyes that Riffin reckoned couldn’t be faked. He took the invitation from her, scanning its details. “It appears to be authentic,” he said.
“And it is,” she retorted. “Curious, how an allied kingdom is granted a handful of invites to dispense to these festivities and one of them happens to land in the hands of a mad man.”
“A mad man?” Prince Pietros asked. He shook his head at a frenzied pace and dropped the invitation to his side, “What is this about?” he asked.
“Do you truly claim not to know?” she asked. “Did the King not trust you to hand out the invitations yourself?”
Prince Pietros shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, “I was consulted when it came to some names,” he said, “but I didn’t have the complete list—nor would I be consulted for such a thing.”
The Queen clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shaking her head, “If this is your brother’s way of seeing to it that this marriage does not go through,” she started, “then I hope he hasn’t made alternative plans.” Prince Pietros shifted his weight. “This marriage will go ahead, regardless of the King’s feelings on the matter,” she declared.
Prince Pietros bowed his head, “I never expected it not to, your Majesty,” he said.
Queen Sybelle pulled back, nostrils still flaring as she seated herself in a chair, “Tell the King,” she said. “Tell the King that I know of what he tried and tell him that he failed.”
Prince Pietros shifted his weight, “Your Majesty, how can you be certain—”
The Queen scoffed, shaking her head, “I know what the man is capable of, Pietros,” she said. “I knew the man before he was a King. As did you.”
Prince Pietros recoiled. His jaw tensed and he swallowed his words. “I will let the King know of what he has been accused,” he said. “Regardless, the King has every intention of making it to the marriage celebrations tomorrow.”
Queen Sybelle waved her hand dismissively, glancing elsewhere. Prince Pietros bowed his head again, respectful as always, and then turned on his heel and left.
When the doors were slammed shut, the footsteps getting fainter and fainter, Riffin turned to his mother. “You think the King knew about—”
“I wouldn’t rule it out,” she said, her fingers wiping at the corners of her lips, as though trying to wipe away her anger. “If their spy networks are nearly as good as ours, I cannot see how he couldn’t know.”
“Word of the pirate alliance reached Evrad years ago,” his father started. “‘Jared Bricken’ was a popular name in port towns and it was common knowledge that he had escaped with a woman. It didn’t take long for rumour to spread and some people to make the connection.”
“Knowledge that may have been meaningless years ago,” his mother started.
“But which proved useful when they held such contempt to my choice of bride,” Riffin remarked aloud. He pursed his lips together, his hands balling into fists at his sides, “I don’t understand,” he murmured. His mother and father looked at him with furrowed brows. “They claim that we are allies—and that we should be looking out for one another—but they make moves against us this way? The King claims it’s in his interest that we remain strong but if this alliance falls apart from his interferences, being stronger than we are now is to his disadvantage.”
“The King is troubled by something but, by what, I don’t know,” he said.
His mother shook her head and reclined in her seat, “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “If he has concerns, then he requires this alliance and he will not act to jeopardise it further.”
“We cannot know that,” Riffin said. He shook his head. There were greater concerns. “What if we require this alliance? What if this alliance falls apart because of my marriage?”
His mother raised a delicate brow at him, curious as to his concerns. She shook her head slowly, lowering her gaze, “Don’t dwell on that,” she said. “Our kingdoms and this alliance are mine to think about. I wouldn’t have agreed to this marriage if I thought it such a risk. I did agree and, tomorrow, it
will go ahead as planned.”
Riffin blinked the troubles from his gaze, swallowing his words. “That is, if she still wants to marry me,” he said.
Without giving his parents a chance to ask, he turned on his heel and left the room. When asked, Kara told him that Malia was in the gardens, practicing her archery once again.
He came to her in silence, doing his utmost to keep all that had been revealed to him from his features. She lowered her bow at the sight of him. The delight on her face vanished in a heartbeat at the look on his face. He extended his hand to her and she took it, allowing herself to be led to a stone bench.
He told her everything. He told her about his night out in a brothel. He told her about Thane. He told her about his desire to have explained everything sooner and told her of what revelations had stood in the way of him doing so.
All the while, Malia listened with a patient ear, her gaze rarely ever leaving his, doing so only in favour of short glances towards the birds that pecked at the ground along the path.
“I’m sorry,” he said, finally.
Malia’s lips twitched into a short smile, “Don’t be sorry,” she said, sighing. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, taking a moment to formulate her thoughts. “I cannot say I haven’t heard men do worse.”
Riffin emitted a short laugh, though he felt it was nothing worth laughing about. They weren’t even married yet and he was already making mistakes. “That doesn’t make it right,” he said.
She shook her head, smiling shortly again. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. She looked up to meet his gaze once more, leaning in further, “And your mother isn’t troubled by the Ludorum King and his hand in all this?” she asked.
Riffin swallowed the lump in his throat, shaking his head, “It’s angered her, of course,” he said, “but she isn’t going to allow him to stand in our way.”
Malia smiled and her shoulder’s slackened, “All this time, my heart in my throat every single time she comes to me, or you do, fearing she will go back on her word, change her mind and refuse the marriage,” she said. “It would seem she’s more determined than ever to make it happen.”