The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  Chapter 39

  OUT OF THE CORNER of his eye, Riffin recognised Thane’s return to the room. As he held the door open for Neyva, the forlorn look on both of their faces couldn’t be denied. What might’ve started as an act between the two of them, an attempt to look weakened in the eyes of the treacherous nobles whose intent was to divide and concur, had developed into something else.

  The grief in his sister’s eyes, her arms crossed against her chest, couldn’t be stifled despite her obvious attempts as she glanced around the room at those guests that enjoyed themselves naively.

  Rigid as he always was, Thane’s regimental stance appeared more forced than usual, his features stone-cold as he observed the guests, his gaze softening when he would glance at Neyva out of the corner of his eye. His weakness for her was unmistakable—Riffin could see that—but, true to form, he wouldn’t allow himself to cave to his desires.

  The ballroom doors flew open, creaking noisily. The bang of the heavy wood into the walls cut through the festivities and the music came to an abrupt stop, turning their guests attention towards the intruder.

  Malia too long strides into the ballroom, tall, graceful and commanding attention. Her proud smile tugged at her lips, a devious smirk that robbed those around them of breath and sent chills running down their spines. When they could tear their eyes away from it, what they cast their gaze upon next was no less frightening.

  Swinging at her side, clutched by strands of dark hair, was a head—the head of a guest. Women yelped out strangled screams, men gasped and backed up as much as they could, colliding with one another as well as Riffin’s advancing guards.

  “Your Majesty,” Manus hissed through gritted teeth.

  Malia came to a stop beside them, placing the head on the table with a heavy thud.

  Manus sucked in a deep breath, placing the back of his fingers to his nose as the smell of a copper filled the air.

  “What’s this?”

  “This,” Malia started, speaking with a voice full of unmistakable satisfaction, gesturing to the head. “This is the man you sent to kill me and my children,” she declared.

  Hands clenching into fists at his sides, Manus’s eyes widened with horror. “I did no such thing,”he declared to the King in a single breath.

  “Are you calling my wife a liar?” Riffin asked.

  “No,” he said. “She is mistaken.”

  “I’m not,” she said. “As this man confessed moments before his death—along with a number of other traitors.”

  The fear in the room seemed to thicken, palpable around them in the same way the stench of blood seemed to thicken the air they breathed. The nobles held their breath—the guilty and the innocent alike. They quaked with fear, seizing one another for comfort behind one another.

  Malia turned her attention to the crowd of nobles that gawked in her direction. Those that had deemed her unfit and swore that she would be the downfall of the kingdom never imagined she would be their ruin.

  As she stood, comfortable within the power he knew he had elevated her to, Riffin couldn’t help but drink that image of her with pride and lust. “I’m sure my wife’s statement is...well-researched,” he said.

  “That it is,” Malia agreed with satisfaction. “I have been told there are at least twenty-four nobles upon the Alliance Council,” she said, glancing around the room at the forty-something nobles. “Unfortunately, the man...expired, before he could give me all the names.”

  Soft gasps escaped the fear-stricken and the disgusted, the sharpest one escaping Manus as the assassin’s head rolled along the table and tipped in his direction. “He knew no such thing,” he said. “The Council—”

  “The Council cannot remain such a well-kept secret,” she retorted. “And a seasoned assassin would be smart enough to carry with him knowledge he might use to buy his freedom should he get caught.”

  Riffin chuckled, “Unfortunately for him, it would appear my wife was not feeling merciful.”

  Malia smiled at the terror in Manus’s eyes, satisfied at the prospect of inflicting the same fear he had inflicted upon her after months of being uncertain where the next blow might come from. “Not merciful in the slightest,” she said.

  “That man...”

  “That man tried to kill me and my children upon your orders,” she hissed. “So I’ve returned the favour.”

  Manus’s mouth fell open with a rebuttal of some sort, only for Riffin to lift his hand, silencing before he could dare utter another word. “My father will be returning tomorrow with further news of the traitors,” Riffin declared. “You will all stay here, ready for the meeting.”

  “You cannot imprison us!” a Lord declared, horrified by the prospect.

  Riffin smiled, “You won’t be imprisoned,” he declared. “You’ll be guests of the palace! You will be given chambers, you will dine and you will sleep,” he said, “and, when the moment comes to expose the traitors, you will all be here.”

  Malia licked her lips, unable to deny the look of malice twinkling in her eye, “And, if anyone is seen leaving, it will be assumed that you are amongst the traitors, and your lands, and all its occupants, will be seized from you before you even have time to return home.”

  Once a woman who earned the ire of the nobles, those that deemed her unworthy, now coward, wide-eyed in the face of the Queen she had become. As Malia paced behind her husband, coming up beside him once again, she continued, “As you have sat here tonight, our guards have entered each and every one of your homes... Seeing to it that your…heirs are kept safe,” she declared.

  The men and women amongst the crowd gasped, whispered shrieks and cries at the thought of the children left at home.

  “Your children are fine,” Malia declared, loud enough to cut through the sobs, “and, so long as you remain here, they will remain as such.”

  Thane summoned the guards in at Riffin’s request and, before long, they’d rounded up all the grieving couples to escort them down the corridors.

  The only one left behind was Manus, his wife lingering not too far away, elbowing herself out of a guard’s hold in an attempt to stand beside her treacherous husband.

  “You have to know you’re mad,” Manus declared, throwing himself forward in his seat.

  Slumped back, relaxed, Riffin shrugged a shoulder. “My mother was deemed to be mad at a point,” he said. He shot a glare in his direction, out of the corner of his eye, “I suppose that is why nobody dared make such a move against her.”

  Manus shook his head, “This is unwise,” he said. “What traitors you find... You have no guarantee of their involvement, you have no word... Whomever you execute, right or wrong, will only serve as a martyr for the others to stand against you.”

  “Or, perhaps, they will know better than to dare it,” Malia said, “lest they get caught up in this mess.”

  “Tell me, Manus,” Riffin started with a sigh, slumping further back into his seat, “what was the plan?” he asked. “Execute my wife, my children, and hope I could be pushed into a political marriage?”

  Manus said nothing, glaring at the King from beneath his lashes. He kept silent. Whatever he said, none of it would stand in his favour anymore.

  “You’ll be in for a long night if you refuse to speak,” Riffin declared, reaching for his cup of wine.

  The others closed in around them. With his wife now sat beside him, domineering as she was, his sister’s imposing figure loomed nearby. Jared and Kara did the same, their black clothing stained with the blood of the man whose head remained on the table.

  “You’re only making matters worse for yourself,” Manus whispered. “The Council question your ability to rule—“

  “I imagine they would,” he said, “considering they have done everything within their power to rule me instead.”

  “You will merely fuel their hatred towards you,” he said, shaking his head. “If you allow the alliance with Ludorum to sever, you will plunge the entirety of your kingdoms in darknes
s. You will gain nothing but their hatred.”

  Riffin smirked. “Acts of treason must be punished,” he said. “Thus far, you have made it so that no one has suffered for their crimes.”

  Manus glanced at him from beneath his lashes, his eyes narrowing into a vengeful squint, “Did you not punish Lord Girgani?” he asked. “Was the man not found dead shortly after the dissolution of his marriage to your sister?”

  A chuckle rumbling in the back of his throat, Riffin scoffed, “I had no hand in that,” he said. “And, of all the offences thus far, that is amongst the least of it.”

  “But it was the only action you were capable of,” Manus said. “It was the only time the Alliance Council didn’t stand between you and vengeance!”

  Riffin shook his head, rising from his seat.

  “Admit it!” Manus said. “You are your mother’s son and you are ruled by the desire for the blood of all those who have wronged you!”

  Riffin turned his back on Manus. He knew he was right. To some extent, he was certainly right. But what could be said of one who didn’t pursue vengeance when a loved one had been wronged? That they were weak? That they never loved them in the first place?

  “The Alliance Council has done nothing but stand between you and the bloodbath you would create in Ludorum,” he said. “Nothing more.”

  “The Alliance Council has manipulated everything,” Riffin retorted. Having regained control, he remained calm, no longer fuelled to lash out against his enemies. “They have manipulated one another into power—power above a King.”

  “A King has no power without their nobles!” he growled. “Without us, your kingdoms would seize to function.”

  Riffin turned back to him, laying his hands down heavily onto the table in front of him, “Not if you’re all dead,” he whispered, the threat evident in his tone. “Not if people loyal to me are placed in your stead.”

  Manus shook his head, “You will never have everyone’s loyalty,” he whispered. “There will always be someone—someone like us—who will stand and command that the crown do better!”

  “They might command all they like,” Riffin said, “but I have learnt that a mountain will bow to no wind, no matter the manner in which it howls! I learnt that the day I begged to have my mother’s life spared!”

  “And that will be your undoing,” Manus said.

  “As it will be yours,” Riffin said, withdrawing. A quick glance in Jared’s direction, and the former pirate stepped in, seizing Manus by the arm and bringing him to his feet. With the couple escorted from the room, Riffin lowered himself back into his seat, raking his fingers through his hair as his anger burned, emitting heat from every pore.

  Malia extended her hand to him, wrapping her delicate fingers around his clenched fist. “He’s wrong,” she whispered. “He’s trying to make you out to be a tyrant, hoping you’ll spare the traitors.”

  Riffin lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing an absent-minded kiss to the back of her fingers. To some extent, she knew he was right, but it didn’t make his actions any easier.

  His mother played the part of the tyrant well—so well that nobody ever dared manipulate her in the same way. He needed to show force, or they’d continue their attempt to rule him.

  “This needed to be done,” Gyles said, chiming in from a distance.

  Riffin glanced in his direction. Although some would say Gyles’s time of advising Kings and Queens was over, Riffin had the utmost respect for the man he grew up to call his uncle. “Your mother didn’t find it easy to act this way,” he said, stepping closer. “She played her part to the public well, but it was never easy.”

  Riffin sighed, cocking his head back when he leaned into his seat, as all confidence, all spite and anger, dissipated and left him weighted by his actions. “How did she deal with it?” he asked. “This feeling of... This feeling of being the villain in your own story.”

  Gyles smiled softly, “She didn’t,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t think she ever truly did.”

  The young King shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. Try as he might to play the part his mother did, he didn’t think he was capable of it.

  “Your mother survived... She survived by surrounding herself with people who made her more than a villain. Her husband reminded her that she was a wife, her son reminded her that she was a mother, I reminded her that she was a friend.”

  “You have us,” Malia whispered, leaning forward in her seat. “You have the children—children that need us to do this, or they might have assassin’s entering their chambers every night for the rest of their lives.”

  Riffin licked his lips, nodding slowly. “I know you’re right,” he said. He glanced around the room, taking in each of the faces of those around him. “You’re right.”

  Chapter 40

  SAT IN HIS CHAMBERS, head cocked back against the couch, Thane stared at the ceiling, lifting his head long enough only to take a drag of the cigarette he allowed himself. The night was unspeakably long, coercing the disgruntled nobles into chambers on the other side of the palace, posting just about every guard they had on each and every corner, all the while keeping the Capital and the palace impenetrable.

  His muscles ached, the pain in his back rushing through his arm, nestling in the base of his neck. The opiates did little to dull the ache, their dose too minuscule to have as much of an effect as he’d have liked. He had a good tolerance—years of swallowing poisons and developing an iron stomach helped him with that. Nonetheless, he controlled himself, unable to let himself be swayed by any substance.

  Afforded little time alone and in peace, the door to his chambers flew open and Neyva entered like a whirlwind. Blinking the mist of exhaustion that had descended before his eyes, he glanced in her direction, never lifting his head from the couch, putting out his cigarette.

  “Did you—“ A breath caught in the back of her throat, her hand moving to her chest as she struggled to contain herself. Her chest was rising and falling at an alarming pace, leaving one to imagine that she had been more likely to indulge in the opiates than he had. “Did you have a hand in this?” she asked.

  “A hand in what?” he asked, brows furrowing together.

  She paced rapidly, unable to bring herself to utter the words as her mind scrambled with her thoughts. “You said you would... You said you would protect me. You said you were a Master of Poisons and—“

  “Out with it,” he hissed. He lifted his hand to his head, grimacing as he bit back the burning sensation that ran its way down his arm. “I have a splitting headache,” he whispered.

  “Did you poison Lord Girgani?” she asked, turning to face him.

  Thane sighed, glancing in her direction through half-lidded eyes.

  Her eyes widened, her mouth agape. She sucked in a deep breath, “You did, didn’t you?”

  Thane scoffed, “Of course I did,” he replied through gritted teeth.

  Winded, but unable to keep still, she began to pace again.

  “Don’t act so surprised,” he said. “He was a traitor—Ludorum’s traitor but a traitor nonetheless—conspiring with our nobles.”

  “Does my brother know about this?” she asked. Before he could answer, her eyes widened further, “Did my brother command this?”

  He shook his head, “I imagine he might’ve suspected something but that was long after it was decided,” he said.

  “Decided?” she asked. “By who? You?”

  Thane shot to his feet, gritting his teeth together against the agony. “The second that man laid his hands on you, he needed to die,” he said. “Your mother would never have allowed that man to live and—”

  Her mouth fell open with growing realisation. “And my father couldn’t allow it either,” she said, matter-of-factly. “It’s the reason he returned to the Capital, isn’t it? It’s the reason—He misses both my marriages but decides to return at the thought that I’ve been struck?”

  “Of course!” he growled. “Because what
self-respecting man would not seek vengeance for such an offence?” he asked. He advanced towards her, towering over her, “Little did your father know the poison was well on its way to being delivered by the time he arrived to see me,” he said.

  Neyva’s shoulders dropped, her brows knitted together, meeting in the middle and wrinkling with confusion, “What?”

  Thane swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to bite back anything he would regret, only to find it was all coming out in the open now and that hiding it any longer wouldn’t matter. “I couldn’t guarantee I’d find you,” he said. “What I could guarantee, however, was finding him. So I had the poison delivered as I went in search for you. I’d hoped that... If he perished before I could find you, you wouldn’t run any longer and you’d come home by yourself.”

  Taking in each and every one of his words, she pieced it all together, leaving them to bask in the silence.

  “I told you I would keep you safe,” he said. “I told you he would never hurt you again and I swore you would never go back to him—I kept that promise.”

  She turned away and his heart sank, ripped open, left exposed for her to do with as she pleased. “And my brother knew none of this?” she asked.

  A feeble smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his mouth falling open, nearly incapable of forcing the words out because doing so would confirm him to be a traitor to his King. “I...couldn’t guarantee what he would do,” he said. “I couldn’t bring you back here in good conscience, knowing that he might be forced to return you to him.”

  “You did this without my brother’s approval?” she asked. Lowering her voice, though too enraged and hurt to contain herself any longer, she shoved him in the chest, forcing him to step back. “What are you doing?” she asked. “That’s treason! Why would you do such a thing?!”

  Pushed too far, aggravated beyond belief, and weak to his own exhaustion, he snapped. “Because I love you,” he declared, taking her tear-filled face in his hands. Swallowing a lump in his throat, the fear of having declared what he’d longed to keep secret, he recoiled, “I hoped the love your brother and I shared, all we’d been through, would be enough if he ever found out,” he said. He let her go, bringing his hands to fall back by his sides, “I just couldn’t let him send you back to him,” he said.