The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  His mother had fought for that power though. At this point in her reign, she’d already involved herself in two wars and had succeeded at deposing two Kings and a Queen, seizing whole lands entirely for herself. There were few bold enough to try to take that on because they knew of her madness and knew of her capabilities—he had no such reputation of his own, none that he could wield to his advantage.

  Malia leaned against him as he sat at the marble-topped table in the throne room, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “They will get what they deserve,” she said.

  “We don’t even know who they are,” he whispered.

  “My father is certain they’ll make themselves known soon,” she said.

  “But for what purpose?” he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “They wouldn’t reveal themselves if they knew themselves to be at a disadvantage.”

  She perched her chin on his shoulder, resting her cheek against his own.

  The silence lingered, a cross between tense and peaceful as they were granted the luxury of time in their comforting embraces. Time. “Whatever our actions, they need be well-timed,” he whispered.

  She lifted her head from his shoulder, eyeing him with confusion as she beckoned him to elaborate.

  “We need to threaten them,” he said, “make them fear reprisal, but we cannot do it without know who they are, or else they’ll make a greater effort of hiding themselves.”

  Malia laughed softly, taking him by surprise, “And do you have such a thought of how to do so in mind?” she asked.

  Riffin cocked his head to one side, “Not yet,” he whispered. “But I will.”

  She pressed a kiss to his cheek, tightening her arms around his neck as she embraced him tighter. “I know you will,” she said.

  Riffin placed his arms over hers, brushing the tips of his fingers against the back of her hands. He turned in his seat slowly, scooping her into his arms and settling her in his lap. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  She laughed again, sweet and cheerful, “For what?” she asked.

  “For being the best possible wife I could ask for,” he replied. “For being the Queen this kingdom deserves.”

  She shook her head, laughing some more, “I’ve done nothing,” she said. “Certainly not nearly as much as I would’ve liked.”

  “You’ve provided me comfort,” he said, “and seen to it that I think clearly, that I consider my actions. Were it not for you, I would be ruled by impulse.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she countered, resting her head against his shoulder. “Your mother didn’t raise you to be ruled by impulse, nor did your father.”

  He pressed his lips into the side of her neck as he considered her words, “I wanted to please him,” he whispered. “I wanted to help and put his mind at rest. Were it not for you, for the children you brought into this world, I may have done every unspeakable thing to do it.” She pressed a feather-light kiss against his throat, gentle and chaste, meant only to fill the gap in their conversation and remind him she was listening. “I can only hope, for my sister and my best friend, that they can be even half as happy as I am with you,” he said.

  Malia smiled softly, a short laugh rumbling in her chest, “They will be fine,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll make the best of it.”

  ***

  Crouched on the ground, barely capable of keeping himself standing for much longer, Thane placed his clothing for the following day on the armchair in Neyva’s chambers. “This is ridiculous,” he mumbled to himself. Choosing his clothes for the following day, bringing them to Neyva’s room and making a place for himself in the corner of her living quarters, Thane quickly tired of it.

  “Do you much prefer your chambers?” Neyva asked.

  She remained at a distance from him, sat at her dressing table, combing the tangles from her long, dark hair. A quick flicker of her eyes in the mirror meant that she could see him, frustrating himself with the slightest of details. “I have no preference,” he said. “Only that this coming back and forth between chambers is a waste of time.”

  “Would you prefer it if we moved to your chambers?” she asked.

  Thane scoffed, only momentarily taken aback by the fact that she even considered moving out of her lavish chambers. “Mine are much smaller,” he said. “You wouldn’t be comfortable there.”

  She half-shrugged her shoulders, humming with a touch of indifference, “It must be considered if it matters to you,” she said.

  He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, rising to pour himself a drink at the bar. “It’s already bad enough Riffin has asked you not to return to Darner,” he said.

  “I can understand it though,” she said, heaving a sigh. Her eyes remained well-trained on her own reflection, leaving him to wonder if she could marvel at her beauty in the same way he did. “We’re to keep up appearances, to remain a married couple, and your duties here are a great deal more important than my own.”

  Downing a cup of wine, Thane paused, leaning against the door that separated her bedchambers from the living quarters. “Doesn’t that bother you?” he asked.

  “Does what bother me?” she asked, off-handedly.

  He shrugged, “As long as I’ve remembered, Darner has meant a great deal to you,” he said. “You had great ambitions of building it up, making it a hub of importance in Evrad. Does it not bother you to have to put that on hold?”

  She smiled, “What makes you think I’ve put it on hold?” she asked. She half-turned to him, though she kept her eyes on him through his reflection in the mirror. “I have established myself in Darner,” she said. “I’ve established myself to the point that I can conduct business from a great distance—letters will suffice for now and I’m willing to pay my messengers dearly for their brisk work.”

  Nodding, he put an end to their conversation there, walking away to top up the contents of his cup.

  “It’s my turn,” she said.

  Having come to his couch, dressed up with blankets and cushions, he paused. “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s my turn,” she said, “to ask questions.”

  He smirked, “I didn’t realise casual conversation between husband and wife was a trade deal in itself,” he murmured. She raised a brow in his direction, either having not heard him or finding his words curious. Either way, he waved her off, “Go on,” he said.

  “Have you ever… Have you ever been with another?” she asked.

  Thane glanced at her from beneath his lashes, relaying his confusion. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  She half-shrugged her shoulders, her fingers running through the motions as she braided her long dark hair over one shoulder. “I don’t mean the women in the brothels,” she said. “I mean… Someone you ever envisioned marrying.”

  He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, relaxing into his crouch. “You mean someone with whom the pleasure has been…more than just physical,“ he said.

  She half-shrugged again, “That’s one way to put it,” she said. She lowered her head, struggling to conceal the rosiness of her cheeks that reflected in the mirror.

  “I’ve had a few,” he replied, “though none in which marriage was considered. None have gone particularly well.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “We lose sight of each other relatively quickly,” he replied, too casually for her comfort.

  “Was it never love?”

  “I believe there are two types of love—to suppress the reality of our situations and to continue living in a dream of perfection, or to be ourselves and have our differences acknowledged,” he said, replying off-handedly. “I choose the latter. I don’t want to be thoroughly loved. I want to be myself, without needing to hide my failures, without needing to hide parts of my life.”

  He loved. He just wasn’t loved back in the way he needed. She placed a hand on his back, her touch radiating a warmth he hadn’t felt in some time. She saddened, visibly so, but did her best to keep it fr
om showing, holding her head up high with lips in a tight straight line. Meeting his gaze, she mustered a small smile, tender and innocent. Feeling his cheeks burning, he smiled back in response, lowering his head to hide it. Maybe he couldn’t be loved. Maybe there wasn’t any hope for that. But, maybe, being understood… Maybe that was possible.

  Chapter 28

  SLASHING THROUGH THE AIR, the axe came down hard on the tree stump as Deros wielded it with all his might, splitting chunks of wood in half as he prepared for the frightfully cold winter that was to come.

  Boardeck Castle, though strategic in its placement when built, was nothing but a fortified home. Having belonged to a young Prince in Sybelle’s family long ago, it fell into much disrepair upon his death. Although Deros hadn’t a single intention of returning to the palace permanently, he had even less of a desire to make Boardeck Castle his home. As far as he was concerned, it was just a place to keep him, a place to survive in until he could find it in himself to do more than just survive.

  Living again seemed like a distant prospect. It was unattainable, not only because he couldn’t physically face it but because, mentally, he didn’t want to either. He couldn’t imagine a life without Sybelle. It wasn’t that he couldn’t make something of himself, but that none of it would seem worth it if he couldn’t share it with the one who mattered most to him in the entire world.

  He’d lived without her before, long ago when he resided in Evrad, beneath his father’s rule and his brother’s savagery. Although one could say he’d had everything he ever could have wanted then, with the title of Count and Captain General of the Evradian Army, and a roof over his head, with opulent food and his choice of women to warm his bed, none of it appealed to him.

  Life with Sybelle was so much more than being the Queen’s lover. Although the position granted him luxuries few could ever hope for, it opened him up to criticism and spite that he wouldn’t have received if he’d been with anybody else. In Evrad, women would have thrown themselves at his feet to marry into such power, to live in the castle and be acquainted with the Prince and the King. In Lionessa, with Sybelle, he was nothing more than the Queen’s lover and, though she insisted he was so much more than that, he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  Life was much darker when he spent it alone in Evrad and nothing changed when he’d ventured into Ludorum, becoming acquainted with his family, away from Lionessa. Knowing her love—it became impossible to live without it.

  A dull carriage, painted a mottled brown, rattled against the stone-littered and dusty path towards Boardeck Castle. Although family from the Capital had made numerous visits, his most recent return to the palace made a familial visit less than likely. Coming to an abrupt stop, the carriage driver scrambled to open the door, lowering the steps for the woman who stepped out.

  The face was familiar, though he would hardly call her family. With gentle wrinkles in her face, she looked about as harmless as he’d always known her to be. It was only her allegiance to Ludorum that had him turning his attention away from her and returning to chopping wood.

  Letha, playing with her fingers as she approached, walked slowly towards him, taking her time to close the gap between them. She didn’t utter a word, even as she came to a stop. Her dress billowed against the breeze and she wrapped her arms around herself, tugging at her shawl in an effort to protect herself from the cooling temperatures.

  “What are you doing here, Letha?” he asked. If he’d ever had a doubt in mind as to whether he was being spied on, her arrival just about confirmed it. He’d never sent word to Ludorum, telling of his location and, yet, she seemed to have found him with relative ease.

  She pursed her lips together, twisted in thought as she took a step closer.

  He brought the axe down harder than ever, splinters of wood laying themselves at her feet and along the fringe of her lilac dress, serving as a warning.

  “I take it you haven’t fared well,” she remarked. She casted her gaze towards Boardeck Castle behind him, looming over them in all its horror, dark and grey against otherwise vibrant greenery.

  Deros glared at her from beneath his lashes, laying the next piece of wood on the tree stump. “What does King Niles want now, hm?” he asked.

  “King Niles didn’t send me,” she replied, softly.

  “Then who did?” he asked, unintrigued. “Pietros?” He chuckled at the thought. Good natured as Pietros was, he did nothing without his brother’s approval, always the more submissive of the two.

  Just the thought of the twins left a bitter taste in Deros’s mouth. He should never have given them power. He should have killed them the same way he did all the others. He despised himself for ever thinking it could be done another way, that they could have lived peacefully with an alliance between them.

  Knowing that Niles was the more vicious of the two, he wished he’d separated them early on. Had he been able to do so, he could’ve gotten rid of Niles quietly, amidst the chaos of the assault on Ludorum’s palace, and maybe then Pietros would’ve taken the throne instead of him. Pietros’s loyalty stood for something—he would’ve been far more malleable than his brother ever was.

  “I’ve come of my own accord,” she said, softly, as though she feared her secret being heard. In truth, if ever there was a secret to be heard, Boardeck was the place to do it. Short of Deros and two servants that tended to the freezing cold castle, nobody could be found for miles.

  “And why is that?” he asked, feigning intrigue. “Come to see what family has done to me?”

  Letha scoffed, no longer the quiet, soft spoken young woman he knew seventeen years ago. “Come off it,” she hissed, quietly. “You know they are just about as much family to me as they are to you—and you are the one that started this! Family killing family—you brought this on yourself!”

  Yes, he did, because the family he’d created with Sybelle, the unborn child she carried within her at the time, was worth far more to him that the family that shared the blood in his veins. “Yes,” he said, rolling his eyes, “you looked like you much preferred being married to a man who despised you.”

  Her nostrils flared and her fingers dug into her arms, her knuckles white from the strain and cold she was subjecting herself to by visiting him.

  “What do you want, Letha?” he asked, the axe dangling by his side. “Whatever it is, it must’ve been worth the journey.”

  She straightened, easing her posture somewhat as the animosity between them dissolved into stubborn courtesy. “Some weeks ago King Niles and Prince Pietros had a meeting with a well-renowned architect,” she said.

  Deros shrugged a shoulder at the sound of such an insignificant and trivial matter, “And?” he asked.

  “According to my girls, two of which joined him in the brothel, he drunkenly said he was being commissioned by the King to work on Calum Castle.”

  Deros rolled his eyes, “Again, I ask, and? What about it? He’s preparing for war—the same as everybody else.”

  She bit her bottom lip, taking a step towards him, “He said it sounds to him that they’re more preoccupied with keeping something in, than protecting it against the outside,” she said. “He said King Niles’s demands would not withstand a siege but makes Calum far better suited for a prison than anything else.”

  Deros recoiled, brows knitted together in confusion. “What are you saying?” he asked.

  “I’m saying that I think they intended for the Castle to hold someone of importance,” she said. Faced with his confusion, and undoubted interest, she shifted her weight and elaborated, “One week ago, the architect returned for another meeting with King Niles, leaving aggravated with only half the sum paid for works that were deemed to remain incomplete. Shortly before that, King Niles stopped looking like himself—he looked worn out, exhausted, on edge, fearing the sound of every rider to approach the castle, fearing each and every messenger.”

  Grinding his teeth together, Deros advanced towards her, standing tall, “What are you sayi
ng?”

  She licked her lips, shifting again. “I think he never executed the Queen,” she said. “I think he had every intention of keeping her prisoner until something went wrong, and his captive found a way to escape.”

  Unable to help himself, he grabbed the front of her dress, lifting her off the ground as he jolted her. “Don’t lie to me,” he said.

  “It’s not a lie,” she said, taking a deep breath. “It’s my own suspicion. I wondered if it were true, if the Queen had returned to Lionessa but, finding you here, I suppose she didn’t.”

  He seized her by the throat, thumb perfectly placed to apply pressure to her, cutting off her breath. “King Niles did send you,” he said. “He sent you to see if she’d returned home!”

  She shook her head, “Though he has kept me under his roof, a thing he needn’t have done, he and I have no love between us,” she said. “I wouldn’t do his bidding. On the contrary, I quite like seeing him so terrified of his own shadow.”

  Coming to terms with what he was doing, he let her go, though shoving her backwards in the process, “You’re lying to me,” he said. Grabbing the hilt of the axe, he brandished it over his shoulder, “I’d have killed you that night if I’d known you were capable of such a cruel joke.”

  She staggered backwards, wide-eyed, “Why would I do this to you?” she asked, anxiously. “Why would I do this to you when you spared me my life?”

  “Because I took your daughter’s, perhaps!” he supplemented for her, advancing on her once more. “Perhaps you have despised me for it all this time!”

  “Were I to despise everyone who ever wronged me, I’d have no room for anything else,” she retorted, taking another weary step backwards.