The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  “Then why?” he asked. “Why would you come here?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked. “Seeing you here, shattered by your own grief, why wouldn’t I come and tell you that I think your wife is alive?”

  Deros recoiled, lowering the axe, winded by the desperation in her eyes, the fearful need to portray her honesty. The wooden handle fell from his grip, the steel clinking against the ground before the hilt fell alongside it with a thud.

  She was alive.

  Chapter 29

  ROLLING OVER, RIFFIN TUCKED his arm beneath his head, staring at the painted ceiling above his bed.

  While he wanted nothing more than to bask in the peace and quiet, revel in the warmth of his wife lying at his side, Malia climbed out of bed with a spring in her step. Gathering her loose clothing from the floor as she re-dressed, there was no mistaking her restlessness.

  The table in their chambers was currently littered with pages and notebooks, causing Riffin to wonder if this was how his mother’s room looked when she was Queen.

  Dressed in nothing but her shift, Malia made her way towards it before settling back down with a gentle sigh as she drew her tousled hair over one shoulder. “I greatly admire you, you know that?” he said, suddenly.

  Brows twitching in confusion, a smile drawing at the corners of her lips, she looked his way, “What?”

  He shrugged a shoulder, “You can do it all,” he said. “You act as a wife, you raise our children, you serve as an adviser, and your skills... You never seem to tire of it.”

  She laughed, “I’ll allow myself to tire when I know we’re safe,” she said. “So long as the Alliance Council is united and controlling your actions, I cannot find it in me to relax.”

  He sighed, recalling his greatest of problems. The entanglement of their limbs between the sheets, the peace that came with lying in their bed, usually caused the thought of politics to fall away. As of late, that notion seemed impossible.

  “I cannot help but think your mother would’ve had this dealt with already,” Malia sighed. “The moment Manus Baran opened his mouth, she’d have known who was involved and she’d have known precisely how to deal with them.”

  Humming in agreement, Riffin then sighed. “I know what you mean,” he said. “What I’d give for another day with her.”

  A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Malia’s lips. “Were that possible, I hope, amidst the reminiscing, you would ask her what she’d know about a potential Alliance Council,” she said.

  Chuckling, he agreed.

  Taking a seat at their table, hands clasped in her lap, she became more serious. “As far as Gyles can tell,” she started, “no one in Azura truly depends on the alliance with Ludorum—should a war break out between us, Ludorum would be the first to lose all the weapons Azura supplies. Though Azura would lose a valuable market, their ability to thrive in a time of war means that what they wouldn’t sell to Ludorum they would certainly sell to Lionessa and Evrad.”

  “Azura is at too great of a distance,” he said. “Though it’s a day and a night’s journey, any meetings the Council have would need to be more...central.”

  “Should there be Azurians on the Council, it would’ve been easy to detect who they were,” she sighed. “One need only monitor the nobles which make the crossing for no discernible reason.”

  “And follow them,” he added, “and find out who they meet once they reach the mainland.”

  “With the Azurians unlikely, there’s the Lionessan and Evradian nobles to contend with,” she declared. “Although, who most benefits is a question which I have yet to successfully answer.”

  At the sound of the dejection in his voice, Riffin glanced over, “You’re doing the best you can,” he said. “We all are.”

  She propped her chin up in her hand, heaving a sigh.

  “There’s nothing and no one that cannot be defeated,” Riffin whispered.

  Malia stilled. “With that belief,” she started, her voice becoming softer, “our own failure is inevitable.”

  They locked gazes and their feelings met in the middle. Neither of them wanted to be negative. Neither of them wanted to believe that their end was coming. But they knew the possibilities. They knew defeat would always be a possibility—no matter what they learnt and no matter what they did.

  But neither of them wanted to wallow in the possibility of defeat. Instead, their gazes hardened, intensified, until they’d just about convinced each other that even defeat itself could be defeated.

  There was a heavy knock on the door, and a pause. Never taking their eyes off of each other, Riffin reached for his clothing, getting re-dressed as the knocks continued in the distance. He approached her, cupping the back of her head in his hand as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Finding comfort in his touch, she breathed a soft sigh of relief, tugging her robe closed as he went to the door.

  “Your Majesty,” the guard called, desperately, from the other side of the door.

  Raking his fingers through his hair, grimacing against the ache in his head, he dragged open the door swiftly. “What is it?” he asked.

  The guard on the other side licked his lips, his brows knitted together in confusion, “Your father has returned to the Capital,” he said.

  Riffin blinked, his turn to be confused, “I’m sorry?” he asked.

  The guard stepped aside, as though knowing what he would utter next would send Riffin into a sprint. He would be right. “He’s gone into the gardens—last seen walking in the direction of the Queen’s—“ That was about all he heard before he left, rushing down the corridors and out into the courtyard.

  Quick on his feet, he wasn’t about to linger in his chambers any longer. If something, or someone, had brought his father back, it must’ve been for a good reason.

  There was no time for relief, however, with the guard’s words ringing in his head as he made his way across the Capital’s courtyard at a brisk pace, losing himself in the intricate maze that was their gardens.

  Down the garden paths, his heart raced. What was he doing? Why was he back? Why didn’t he come to him? Why didn’t he send word?

  He approached to the sound of grunts, the sound of something smashing against stone, rubble falling to the cobble-stoned paths. Each heave of strength punctuated another crash, the cloud of dust in the air growing more blinding and suffocating. He rounded the corner, arriving at the ever-green grove to the sight of his father hacking his mother’s tomb with a mallet.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Every attempt to get closer was thwarted by the flying debris, his father’s black coat powdered with smashed marble.

  It could safely be said he’d never seen his father like this before in his life. Each action more savage than the last, his father was in a world of his own, the only one privy to his intentions. This was nothing like the grief he saw when he visited him in Boardeck Castle. That was, to some degree, understandable. This... This was something else. This was almost...insanity.

  His features were contorted with such a great mix of emotions. Between anger, and hurt, frustration and curiosity, Riffin couldn’t begin to decide what could possibly have brought on such a reaction.

  The last time he’d seen him he was, somewhat, at peace. He was still mourning a loss, yes, but the anger and hurt was more internal. He no longer looked at the world as though it were the darkest, most cruel of all existences. Instead, he looked at the world just as it was—filled with cruel, heartless people that would only move to serve their own intentions.

  Now—now he was something else entirely.

  When his father was feeling angered, Riffin knew he could inflict pain and suffering on all those he deemed worthy of it. When his father was feeling ambitious, the world around him was there for the taking, ready to be manipulated to suit his needs.

  This—Riffin couldn’t define this. There was no putting words to this...this complete and utter madness that had turned his father’s physical form into a be
ing he couldn’t recognise.

  “Stop!”

  Blow after blow, his father took the mallet to the tomb, smashing at the edges with considerable force.

  “Father,” he called, “please, stop!”

  Moments later, he did just that. The mallet fell to the ground with a heavy thud and, before Riffin could regain his breath, choking on the debris in the air, and ask what he was doing, his father shoved the lid of the tomb with all his might, pushing until it pivoted on the edge on the other side.

  One look inside and his father scoffed, rage and satisfaction on his face in equal measure, “It’s empty,” he said, matter-of-factly, knocking the mallet over.

  Unable to take a step closer, Riffin recoiled, “What?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

  He couldn’t even bring himself to move, not that it mattered when his father turned his back on his wife’s tomb and started to walk away. “It means your mother is alive!” he declared.

  Chapter 30

  SEATED IN THE THRONE room, the family gathered to hear what Deros had to say, falling into absolute silence.

  None of them could comprehend what they’d been told, though Deros’s certainty on the matter made it equally unsettling. How could he be so sure? How didn’t he think that, maybe, Ludorum was taunting them? False hope—that had as much power to kill a man as the blow itself. They would play into their hands, tearing themselves apart the same way Manus Bane and the Alliance Council hoped they would.

  Everyone took the news differently. Neyva and Thane were riddled with confusion, asking themselves why the Queen would be kept alive.

  “You really think she’s alive?” Malia asked, carefully.

  Riffin eyed him from beneath his lashes, watching for any doubt, a shred of uncertainty. To his surprise, there wasn’t any.

  His father shook his head, “I see no reason why her body wouldn’t be in that tomb if they executed her,” he said. “The only reason they would keep a body is to put it on display and, if that was their reason, then why haven’t they done so already? Before long, the body will decompose, it’ll be unrecognisable, and there’ll be nothing worth showing.”

  “They could’ve just buried her elsewhere,” Riffin said, slowly. “Maybe this is what they hoped for—false hope.”

  “And the fort?” he asked. “Why all the restorations?”

  “They’re preparing for a war,” Riffin retorted, treading lightly. “If not from us, then from their own people—rebels. They’re arming themselves, just as Evrad always did when they picked fights.”

  “Letha said the restorations seemed more focused on keeping something in, rather than letting something out,” he said.

  He wanted to believe he was right, he wanted to smile and laugh, to let the relief of no longer being King drop from his shoulders. But he couldn’t. They’d endured far too much until this point to believe in anything akin to hope. He couldn’t believe the enemy would spare anyone, not after he’d believed for so long that they’d executed his mother.

  The notion that they would spare her... It seemed impossible. No—it didn’t just seem it. It was impossible.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  Whatever hope he lacked, however impossible he believed it all to be, he’d made the mistake of discrediting his father’s feelings before. He’d refused to do it his father’s way in an attempt at keeping matters civil and to keep him alive, only for his father to turn on him out of sheer heartbreak. He couldn’t do that again—he couldn’t let himself be a part of the reason he was in pain.

  “Allow me some men,” he said. “If I know your mother, and I do know your mother, I can find her.”

  “If she’s out there,” Neyva said, softly. She didn’t mean to be negative, didn’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but she was always realistic—treading with caution on her father’s heart wouldn’t stop that. “She’s alone, without guards, without coin—there’s no way she can survive without telling someone who she is.”

  “And if there was anyone she would dare say that to, they’d have reported it to us by now,” Jared said, strengthening Neyva’s argument with a clear reluctance. “The Queen had a handful of allies, those she truly kept closest to her heart and trusted without a measure of a doubt,” he said. “Save for Gyles, all of those people are in this room and none of us have heard from her.”

  Deros shook his head, “If she knows we’re being watched closely by Ludroum’s spies then she wouldn’t dare make a move to reveal her whereabouts,” he said.

  Neyva licked her lips and shifted her weight, “Precisely why I think trying to find her will be impossible,” she said. “If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be—not even by us, not when we haven’t the slightest idea where she might be.”

  Seated on the steps of the thrones, Thane leaned forward, “I found you, didn’t I?” he asked, glancing up at her. Everyone turned their attentions to him, watching the exchange of gazes with interest, their unmistakable agreement hanging in the air as their shoulders dropped and they relinquished themselves to the possibilities. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” he said.

  Licking his lips, Riffin crossed his arms firmly against his chest, “You think it can be done?” he asked.

  Thane nodded slowly. “Even if not, we can spare enough men to warrant a search party,” he said. “I wouldn’t recommend taking them from the Capital, but we can find the men required to put one together.”

  Deros shook his head, “The men we bring together will need to be reliable,” he said. “We cannot bring just anyone.”

  Riffin clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, quick to say, “Take the King’s Guard then,” he said.

  The King’s Guard, a force of thirty men, always within the vicinity of the King, were sworn to secrecy, as well as the most well-trained of all the men in their armies. If they couldn’t be trusted with this, nobody could.

  “And leave you unprotected?” Thane asked, horrified. “Absolutely not. If this is a lie, if this is all just a ruse to divert our attentions elsewhere, I wouldn’t have you here unguarded.”

  “We can take half,” Deros said, stepping in. “We’ll split the King’s Guard and have half lead the search party.”

  Riffin turned his attention to Thane, searching for his approval. Reluctant as he was, he granted it with a short, curt nod.

  “I’ll go with the search party,” Kara said, once they agreed on their plan.

  “Mother,” Malia sighed, taking a step forward.

  Kara locked eyes on her daughter, then turned to everybody else, “If she’s out there, we need to find her before Niles’s men do,” she said.

  “You’ll only attract attention,” Deros said. “We cannot be seen to be going anywhere. If Ludorum’s spies see—“

  “That said,” Thane started, cutting him off with much less optimism, “what’s to stop the Queen from running the moment she hears a search party is out looking for her?” he asked. “If a familiar face isn’t amongst them, we may never find her.”

  “Which is why I’ll go,” Deros said, paying the decision little mind. “Were they to question you, you can say that I’ve rebelled—you can say that I’ve taken men loyal to the Queen to exact vengeance on those who executed her.”

  Riffin snorted and shook his head, “You’re asking me to put a target on your back,” he declared.

  “Yes,” Deros said, smirking, “I am.”

  Pleading with him out of the corner of his eye, he caved beneath his father’s hopeful stare. He needed this. His father needed this and he, as King, could give it to him. Having stood in the way of him once before, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it again. “Go,” he said, offering him a short smile. “Bring her home.”

  Chapter 31

  LYING IN BED, LATE that night, Riffin found himself unable to sleep for the first time in weeks. Wide awake, with not a flicker of slumber on the horizon, he stared at the painted ceilings of his chambe
rs. If what his father suspected was true, everything would change yet again.

  “Do you really think she’s alive?” Malia asked from beside him.

  He wasn’t startled by her. Though they hadn’t spoken to each other ever since they crawled beneath the sheets, he knew that sleep had evaded her as well.

  “I...don’t know what to think,” he confessed. “I can think of no reason why Niles would keep her alive, why he would go through the expense of keeping her alive, keeping her secret. There’s no reason for it.”

  Malia shook her head before rolling onto her side, turning to face him, “There must be a reason,” she whispered. “He had no quarrel with your mother before you disobeyed him,” she said. “They had an alliance spanning years together. Perhaps she was worth as much to him alive as she was dead to another.”

  Riffin propped his head onto the crook of his arm, rolling over, “You think someone else commanded her death?” he asked.

  She shrugged her shoulder a little, “I think someone must’ve benefited from having her gone,” he said, “and I think someone benefited a great deal more than King Niles ever could by executing her.”

  Licking his lips, Riffin’s vision blurred as he thought, following the path Malia’s words formed inside his mind.

  “Think about it,” she whispered, inching closer, as though divulging a great secret, “if King Niles had any sense, he’d think you’d exact revenge on him for your mother’s execution. Why would he want for that when he’s already in the midst of a war with his own people?”

  “So he’s a coward,” he whispered, shifting the world back into focus, “just as I always said.”

  Pursing her lips together, she let the two of them fall into silence, grappling with what the future might be if everything changed. “If she’s alive,” she whispered, “we’re not King and Queen anymore.”