The Heir Boxed Set

by Kyra Gregory

  Abandoning her husband’s shoulder, she was light on her feet as she approached them, hands reaching out to greet them all. She threw her arms around Riffin and Malia together, pressing a kiss to her son’s cheek, then to his wife’s. “I’m so glad you’re well,” she whispered to her.

  Her skin was cold against theirs. She very much could’ve been a ghost. The undead, if ever such a thing were possible. She’d aged. They supposed living in a prison, running for her life and doing her best to survive would do that to a person.

  But she was the same. She moved from each and every one of them, greeting them all, with the same affection she held for them before she left.

  Thane was next. She placed a hand on his shoulder, then to his cheek, as she looked him in the eye. “Are you well?” she asked. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nodded slowly. “And your father?” she asked, softer this time. Again, Thane nodded, though a chill ran down his spine at the thought of him, punctuating the end of that discussion.

  As she came to Neyva, she pulled her in for an embrace, holding her head to her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Neyva recoiled, withdrawing from her embrace, all the while sinking her fingers into her side, wishing nothing more than to cling to the woman she recognised as her mother. “Sorry for what?” she asked.

  A small smile tugged at the corners of the Queen’s lips. “Sorry that my love for you made you a target,” she replied.

  Doing her utmost to smile, she brought her fingers to her face, hiding the sob that tore its way through her. She shook her head, half-turning away until Thane brought her to rest against his side, acting as the silent comfort she required.

  Gyles was next. There was no denying the happiness in his eyes. They threw their arms around one another, holding each other close. There was no need for words. Their friendship had grown well beyond the need for them.

  Seeing as she was next, the moment the two locked eyes, Kara leapt towards the Queen and embraced her as tightly as she could manage. They clung to one another, laughing and crying in equal measure. It was an unlikely friendship, but it was one of the deepest sorts—the Queen and the pirate. Their friendship had run deep, and the Queen’s loss in Kara’s life ran even deeper. “It’s good to see you, old friend,” the Queen whispered.

  When Kara tore herself away, Jared’s embrace of her was far briefer, smiles exchanged that reminded the Queen that she was, indeed, home, and that her return had been welcomed.

  Having greeted all those of note, the Queen stepped back, marvelling at the palace she had called her home. She looked to it with much sentiment, her chest rising and falling quickly as her return home sank in and she wrangled with the emotion that came with it.

  But, before long, the Queen’s excitement dwindled and her tears came to a stop, her features turned dark and she turned her back on her home and faced her son. While she had been through a lot since they last saw her, about as much as they had, she was very, very much unchanged.

  “Show me the traitors,” she said.

  Chapter 43

  THE QUEEN SAT ON her throne as though she had never left it. It was her rightful place, after all, and it welcomed her just as her friends and family did.

  Comfortable and confident, she remained tall and regal, and nothing like what one would expect of a woman that came back from the dead.

  As time passed, with each subject that entered the room, her stone-cold expression seemed to brighten with a glimmer of amusement growing in her eyes.

  One by one, the men dropped to their knees and the women bowed their heads, their fear unmistakable as the room quietened and everyone stilled. The fear was clear on the face of each and every one of them—the guilty and the innocent alike.

  “Where is Lord Lessel?” she asked.

  Riffin’s nostrils flared. Stood beside his mother, equally imposing and frightful, he kept his movement to a minimum. He wouldn’t show fear, wouldn’t show regret, and certainly wouldn’t show uncertainty.

  “Dead,” he replied with ease. “Confirmed a traitor by the assassin and executed by my hand last night.”

  His mother shot a glance his way. A small, subtle shift of her eyes alone. “And Caterina?” she asked. “Has she come to share the same fate?”

  “She never attended our meeting,” he said. “She sent word with a messenger that poor health would keep her from joining us.”

  The Queen said nothing more to that response. She looked neither relieved that her old friend was alive, nor did she look at all troubled at the prospect of her friend being considered a person of interest.

  In moments of silence, the men looked to one another. Who would dare to speak first? Who would be the first to excuse themselves? Who would be the first to implicate another? Most of all, who would be the first to declare their respect and loyalty to the Queen—and who would be the first to lie about their involvement in their betrayal of her son’s rule.

  Manus Baran seemed to be nominated as such. The voice of the Alliance, however slight his hand might’ve been in its origin, he was the scapegoat. Realising he would take the fall for everything, he looked a great deal less smug than when he first entered the throne room, making demands of his King to maintain the Alliance between his kingdoms and Ludorum.

  The Queen lifted her hand swiftly before a word could escape his parted lips. “I don’t want to hear it,” she said, shifting her gaze from him to the rest of those in the room. “One day since my supposed death, and all those who once stood loyal to me turned on my dutiful son,” she declared. “Did you believe I did not prepare him appropriately?” she asked. The question was rhetorical, of course. Nobody would dare answer. Even if she wasn’t a tyrant, they knew better than that, especially when the insult was as grave as this. “Did you believe I would leave you with an inadequate heir to my throne? Did you believe he would lay to ruin all that I had created?” With each question, her voice grew more and more demanding. They became less rhetorical. She wanted answers.

  “It’s the circumstances, your Majesty!” one voice piped up amongst the crowd.

  “The circumstances?” she asked. She rose to her feet in the hopes of making out the face behind the voice, only to find they coward behind each other, never betraying the speaker. “The circumstances of my death?” She paused. The corners of her lips twitched into a smirk. “Did you believe that my son’s judgement would be clouded by vengeance?”

  Manus Baran dropped his gaze. “We feared it could be,” he said, summoning courage to play out his role as speaker.

  “Did you not trust that I taught him better than that?” she asked with an eery sense of sweetness. “Did you not trust that I did my duty to my kingdoms? To my people?”

  Nobody said a word.

  Queen Sybelle took two steps down from her elevated throne, her darkened gaze burning into Manus. “Speak,” she said. “You’ve done it all this time.”

  Manus dropped his gaze. All bravery he once had, burning frightfully bright, fuelled by the men that gave him power, extinguished by the Queen’s ice-cold stare. “There was fear,” he said. “There was fear you, too, had become weak. The moment you allowed the heir to your throne to marry outside of his station. The moment you allowed him to choose love over duty. There was fear for what else he might do.”

  At Riffin’s side, Malia shifted her weight, glaring from behind her lashes. Riffin didn’t care—he never cared. Perhaps, that was a part of his downfall.

  “Fear?” the Queen asked, raising her brow.

  Manus shook his head, unable to formulate his words. With no backing from the men that put him in this position in the first place, in a room full of people, the young man was left alone. “You burned Evrad to the ground at his age. Who was to say he wouldn’t do the same thing to Ludorum, and take with him the thousands of businesses that relied up on this alliance?”

  “You betrayed your King,” she declared.

  “We didn’t believe our King had our best interest at he
art,” he retorted. “When we couldn’t rely upon our King to look out for us, we had to look out for ourselves.”

  “You acted before you were ever given reason to do so! Your concerns were unfounded!” she said. The room fell silent once again. She was enraged, but the manner in which she went from lashing out to calm and collected was more frightening than anything else. “And are you satisfied with the result?” she countered, loud enough for all to hear. “Are you satisfied with what your efforts have led to?”

  The room went silent. How could they be happy? Not only had they failed to do what they had set out to, they were about to face the consequences for their failure.

  Queen Sybelle moved along the steps, basking in the fear and silence of the crowd in front of her. “The King of Ludorum has barricaded himself within Cowan Castle, under attack from his own nobles—nobles that you conspired with to overthrow my son in much the same way,” she declared.

  “Never, your Majesty,” Manus retorted promptly, eyes wide with horror.

  The Queen spun on her heel, turning to face him. “Never?” she asked. “This occurred the moment they couldn’t extort their demands from him. Why should I believe you would behave any different, given the same circumstances?”

  Manus said nothing. Saying so much as a word would likely allude to the lie he told. Her shoulders dropped, her blazing gaze running across each and every face within the crowd.

  “We will be aiding the King of Ludorum. We will be putting an end to the regicide and we will not be aiding the vicious nobles that have orchestrated this in the first place.”

  Wide-eyed, Riffin looked to his mother. His jaw tense, he bit back the argument that almost flew from his lips. He wouldn’t undermine his mother like that. He wouldn’t prove the nobles right.

  “Ludorum’s nobles will likely look to you for support. They will look to you for funds, and for men, and you will, without a doubt, refuse every single request that comes your way,” she said. The nobles bowed their heads. There was no doubting the threat in her voice but, seeing as they had defied her word before, she thought to make herself crystal clear. “Any man, woman, even child, seen to be aiding the treasonous in their endeavour, will be executed without trial, their lands and titles stripped from their heirs, and their families.” She glanced Riffin’s way, just for a second, “One of your own has already met his end for his involvement—spare yourselves, and your family, and do not endeavour to join him.”

  The words were simple. A threat in themselves and nothing more. The men and women in the room, undoubtedly, knew of the death Riffin had inflicted on one of their own—the man’s absence was enough and there was no need for questions. The man was dead. The threat was made. With or without the Queen there, their ruler proved to be superior to them in power, and fighting them would prove to be a great deal deadlier than they were willing to contend with.

  “Dismissed.”

  Everyone remained still. The fact they were leaving with their lives—that was incomprehensible to them. After being manipulated into a dangerous situation, the pretence for their presence concealed to them, they were certain another plot lay ahead of them.

  Nonetheless, no one was about to linger any longer. Nobody wanted to give the Queen, or their King, the opportunity to change their minds. Quick as a shot of an arrow, they rushed to the doors, squeezing through, elbowing one another out of the way in an attempt to get as far away from the Queen’s grasp as possible.

  As the last man and woman left, the doors closed, but the Queen’s features only marginally softened. “Did you have proof of Lord Lessel’s involvement?” she asked.

  Riffin nodded curtly. “His name was the first out the assassin’s mouth as he bargained to be spared the torture,” he said.

  “I require more than that,” his mother declared. “Nobody will dare question it for now but a greater answer will need to suffice in the future—look into everything.”

  Biting the inside of his cheek, Riffin shifted his weight, “On the subject of requiring an answer,” he said, “what’s this about aiding Niles?”

  His mother raised a brow in his direction. “Niles and Pietros are in danger,” she said. “We need to help them.”

  “They tried to have you killed!” Riffin growled.

  “They also spared me,” his mother retorted.

  “That isn’t a good enough excuse!”

  His mother’s shoulders dropped and the anger fell from her features. “No, it isn’t,” she agreed. Licking her lips, turned to face each and every one of them. As she and her family once stood atop the steps, looking down at all those they had put on trial, they now did the same to her. “When I had King Nero killed, when I had King Alessio and Queen Merra executed, I was defending my throne. I also started something that has endangered us all. I aided in the execution of Kings and Queens—I showed them what was possible. Now, our peoples are determined to do the same.”

  Riffin shook his head, rolling his eyes, “And we should let them,” he said. “They were going to have you executed!”

  “This is not up for discussion,” she said. She advanced towards him, meeting him on the steps, “Do not prove these people right,” she whispered. “Do not prove to them that you are ruled by vengeance.”

  Scoffing, Riffin leaned into her, “I never heard this lesson—I was never taught not to be ruled by vengeance,” he said.

  “I taught you to bide your time well,” she said, speaking through gritted teeth, “and this isn’t it.” She ascended the steps, meeting him in the middle, “I appreciate how well you have done in my absence but I’m back now, and we’ll do this my way.”

  And, just like that, what power Riffin had wielded disappeared. While he might’ve held the title of King, he had been usurped. Not by his people, not by his nobles, but by his mother. So long as she was alive, her power remained above his, and her command of the decisions they would have to make would prove it.

  Winded and unable to argue further, the discussion died there. Bit by bit, the exhaustion returned to his mother’s face. After days of travelling, a night spent awake listening to everything that had transpired in her absence, the rush of anger slowed.

  His mother and father were the first to leave, Gyles beside them as they discussed their next plan of action on their way to their chambers. Neyva left next, light on her feet, nonetheless exhausted.

  Resting her head against his shoulder, Malia pressed a kiss to his arm. She needn’t tell him that she’d been right all along—that she’d said this very thing would happen. As he pressed a kiss to her forehead, he dismissed her quietly. She dawdled at first but, seeing as he preferred to be alone, she allowed herself to return to her chambers, the weight of being Queen lifted from her shoulders if only for a little while longer.

  Having left not far behind Neyva, Thane now lingered at the entrance of the throne room, toeing the line between staying and leaving. Licking his lips, he shifted his weight, “Can we talk?” he asked.

  Riffin glanced his way, his heart leaping in his chest. He nodded, lowering himself onto the steps with no intention of running away from what was to come. “Always,” he said.

  Slow in his effort to close the space between them, the two fell into silence. Thane wrestled with his words, teetering along the lines of speaking to his King and speaking to his friend. All the while, Riffin watched him closely, the look in his eyes telling him he would hear him out either way.

  “I can’t say I know her well but I know her well-enough to know that beating changed her,” he said. The words were like a dagger to Riffin’s heart, even as the consideration in Thane’s voice attempted to soften the blow. “I can see it. I see it in the way she puts herself together in the morning. I can see it in the way...a fraction of fear fills her gaze when she speaks her mind. I can see it in the way she looks herself in the mirror when she unmakes herself at night.”

  “I made a mistake,” Riffin said, roughly. “I know that.”

  Thane shook his head,
getting closer, “I understand why you did it,” he said. “She’s stubborn—she wasn’t going to be talked out of that marriage.” He sat down beside him on the steps, perching his elbows on his knees as he gave his words more thought. “I thought I was doing my duty. I was doing what I needed to do to keep this family safe—to do what I’ve been raised to do my entire life.”

  “And you did it well,” Riffin said. “Better than I could.”

  Thane shook his head, heaving out a sigh, “I wish you’d spoken to me,” he confessed. “Doing what you did—that was my duty. If you’d spoken to me, if you’d—”

  “I was wrong,” Riffin said. His nostrils flared as he raked his fingers through his hair, “I became King and everybody doubted me—I needed to prove to myself that I was in control. I was trying to legitimise myself.”

  “You are our King and none of us ever disputed that,” Thane said. “You didn’t need to legitimise yourself with us. I was here to help you and all I needed you to do was speak to me.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, he eased his anger somewhat. “Why didn’t you tell me your plan?” he asked.

  Thane shrugged a shoulder, seemingly uncertain. “I wanted you to be able to deny your involvement,” he said. “You seemed to find doing as you were told to be the safest option. I didn’t want to steer you into an action you might regret if it were to fail.”

  Riffin shook his head, bowing it, “You’re my advisor,” he said. “Your duty is to advise, then allow me to make the decisions. If this failed, it would be on me. You can’t blame yourself if it all goes wrong.”

  “Neither can you,” Thane retorted.

  Adamant as he was to convince him, with three simple words and a glance of equal determination, Thane reminded him that he was right. Neither of them could take the entire blame for a single outcome, not when it came to war and not when they were trying their best.

  “I’m sorry,” Riffin whispered, shoulders dropping. “I made a mistake.”

  Thane nodded, not in agreement but in understanding. “I did too,” he said.