by H Q Kingsley
"So what happens now?" he asked.
"Now, I'm going to change my clothes. Maybe take a shower. And then we're going to sleep. In the morning, you'll be horrified to find your father's dead body in your bedroom, and we'll see what happens to Ezra."
"You can't kill him," he reminded me, and I rolled my eyes.
I still didn't agree with that. A neat job would be all of them dead and no one there to oppose Zyke's reign. But it was the only thing he'd been firm about during the whole mess, so I didn't want to go back on my word that I wouldn't kill him.
"Fine," I said.
Sleep didn't come easily that night. Zyke was awake, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head while he thought through things.
There was a lot on his plate now that he was going to be the one in charge. In just a short time, he'd gone from being the black sheep of the family, the one who was easily ignored and kicked around, to being the heir apparent for all of Eastola.
It was a lot to deal with, not to mention the revelation that he wasn’t even actually the blood heir to the throne.
I held him, stroking his back, gently kissing every part of him that I could.
At some point in the night, he cried, and I held him a little tighter, letting him cry it out, feeling his pain and wishing I could take it on myself.
In the morning, it went down like I'd said it would.
Zyke screamed convincingly and brought Ezra and the servants running to see the king's body in his room. I'd disposed of the knife and left one of the windows open. Anyone could have climbed in and killed the king.
It helped that there had been that attempt on Zyke's life before, the one that had started everything, because the notion that someone wanted to hurt the royal family was easy to believe, and no one would ever suspect Zyke had anything to do with it.
The servants took the body away, and Ezra sat down hard on the bed, not caring about the bloodstains.
I shut the door and turned on him. "You have to leave here," I said, my voice firm.
"W-what?"
"You heard me. You leave Eastola. Change your name. Find something else to do with your life."
"I can't...I have to be...I have to be king."
His face was pale as he said it. Nobody wanted him on the throne, not even him.
"Zyke will be king," I said. "He has better ideas and plans for this kingdom than any of you ever did. He will lead them well, and you'll disappear if you don't want to end up like your family. Got it?"
I waited for him to connect the dots. To accuse me of being behind their deaths and call for the guards. But it never came. He just nodded wearily. "You'll look after Zyke? He can't do it alone."
"He'll always have me."
"You should have let me kill him," I said as Zyke saw Ezra off. He’d stayed just long enough to pay his respects to his father’s body, but after that, I’d made sure he left.
"No," Zyke insisted. "It's right that he got to leave. There's already so much death and sadness here. Ezra deserves a chance.”
"Hey," I said, pulling him closer. "None of this is on you, okay? I did it. I was the one who took them out."
"For me. You did it so I could be king."
"For the people," I corrected. "Because they deserve a king like you. It's not so different from what happened in Belaria, if you think about it. Only a lot less innocent people had to die to get here."
He sighed, but I knew he knew I was right. We'd agreed it was what had to be done.
There was so much ahead of us. A baby, a kingdom, dealing with the messes King Heydar had left behind. It was going to be daunting to say the least.
I had absolute faith Zyke could handle it. I had seen firsthand how he could shine when there weren't people kicking him down, trying to make him feel like he wasn't worthy of respect. He was brilliant and kind and compassionate, and that was what the people needed after years of being held down by a tyrant and his family.
22
Zyke
On my first official day as king, I gathered all the servants in the war room.
Well. The meeting room. We weren't in the business of war anymore, so it was going to need a new name.
Most of them stood there awkwardly, shifting from side-to-side or fidgeting with their clothes. I couldn't tell if it was because they were worried they were in trouble now that I was in charge or if they just didn't like me, but I had some things to say.
I sat at the head of the table, the way my father had, but I wasn't glaring or banging my fist on the table in anger. I also wasn't leaning back in the chair like some reclining god. That wasn't what I was about. That wasn’t ever what I’d be about.
"Hello," I said to all of them, smiling lightly. "I called you all here to let you know things are going to change from this point forward. I'll be reviewing your contracts, seeing what my father was paying you and the stipulations of your work, and we'll make sure it's fair. I don't want you to work for me out of fear you won't be able to feed your families or because you don't think you have another choice. Anyone who would rather not be here is free to go, and we'll see about a severance package that will keep you on your feet until you find something else."
They all stared at me like they couldn't believe what they were hearing.
A young woman near the back raised her hand timidly. "Y-your Highness, I mean— Oh gods. I mean Your Majesty. I'm so sorry."
I shook my head. "You're fine. It's going to take some getting used to for me, too." I smiled at her. "What was your question?"
"We...most of us don't have healthcare. My father is sick, and...and I was wondering if..." she trailed off like she was too afraid to keep going.
I sighed because of course that was the attitude my father had instilled in them. They were too afraid to talk to me because they thought I'd be like him now that I had power. "Wait," I said. "You don't have healthcare? None of you?"
They all shook their heads, and I wanted to put my head down on the table. There was so much poor leadership to undo here.
"What happened when you got sick?" I asked.
"He would replace us if we didn't get better fast enough," the same woman said. "But...but I feel fine, I'm working here to save up money to get my father's treatment."
"We will take care of your father," I said firmly. "And you will all get healthcare and trips to the hospital here in the capital if you need to be seen."
They all looked at each other, murmuring softly.
"Like I said. Things are going to change around here. I'm not my father or any of my brothers. I want to take care of the people and make working here as pleasant as possible. You all keep the palace going. You take care of our food and keep things clean. You deserve respect and to be compensated well for your work."
That was the first change, and the easiest. The palace treasury had more than enough money to make sure the servants were well paid and taken care of.
Going over the numbers, it was easy to tell why the people hated the family so much. While my father was throwing lavish parties and living in the lap of luxury, the people were starving because all of the money from their taxes was just going back into the treasury and staying there.
None of it was used for improvements or outreach or doing anything to make their lives better. They were essentially paying us with their labor and their taxes, and we had been doing nothing in return for them.
It broke my heart to think about how they were struggling. How people were dying because they didn't have access to good medicine or tech, and the things they did have access to were so expensive.
I stood up, raising my voice as much as I could as I spoke out to all of them. “I’m going to take care of everyone as best I can. I promise you all that.”
Omar found me in my father's study, scrolling through his tablet, reading figure after figure of income reports, shaking my head.
"You need a break," he said. "You can't tackle everything all at once."
"I prom
ised them," I replied. "I promised them I'd make things better, and I can't do that until I have a solid idea of how bad things are already. Do you know my father never sent money to a town for a single improvement? I have stacks of records of people petitioning for road repairs, better books for schools, more up to date equipment for local clinics. And he didn't approve any of them."
"Sounds like your father," Omar said. "That's why he got what he got. And listen, Peanut, I know you want to fix all this, and I know you will fix it, but you can't do it by running yourself into the ground. It'll still be there in the morning."
I frowned, shaking my head again. "I have to—"
"Zyke," he said firmly. "Come get ready for bed."
It was his no nonsense voice, and it got my attention immediately.
He only used it when he meant business, and I could tell from the set of his jaw and the way his arms were folded that he wouldn't hesitate to throw me over his shoulder and drag me off if he had to.
I sighed and put the tablet down. "I'm the king now, you know," I said with a little smile. "You can't order me around."
He snorted and held a hand out, helping me up from the chair. "I'm not from here. You're not my king, you're my mate."
Whenever he said that, I wanted to melt. I rested a hand on the roundness of my stomach and smiled. "Okay, okay. Let's go to bed."
He was right. I couldn't afford to overwork myself in my condition. I was very close to my due date according to the palace physician who Omar had taken me to see as soon as my father's body was in the ground. There was a lot I wanted to get done, but I was limited. My health and the health of my baby came first. Omar would certainly see to that.
He was determined to make sure nothing happened to either of us. He called in some favors from old military friends and brought them in to serve as my guard, replacing most of the guards my father had in place.
"We don't know if we can trust them," he explained to me. "I'm still going to be the one in charge of protecting you, but you need more than just me. A show of force is important sometimes."
I’d made a face. "I don't want to walk around with a whole group of guards all the time."
"And you won't have to. They'll have their posts. I'll take care of it. Do you trust me to take care of it?"
I’d tucked myself into his lap and leaned against his shoulder, feeling safe and warm like I always did when I was with him. "Of course I trust you. I trust you more than anyone."
It wasn’t long after that that I’d officially appointed him as my general. He understood war and he knew exactly what kind of force it took to keep a kingdom, so it just made sense. But the transition had been embarrassing. On more than one occasion, I’d called him daddy instead of general in front of his men. Well, embarrassing for me. Omar just seemed to get a kick out of it.
I didn't think there were a lot of people out there who had supported my father to the point that they would come after me, but it was hard to know. And for that, I had an army. An army as loyal to me as they were to Omar. Most of them had come from Belaria and valued a king who wanted change.
I still had a long way to go, but word of my reign had reached the farthest corners of the kingdom, and I was surprisingly overwhelmed by the words of support traveling the streets. There were still skeptics, and it would take a long time before I completely proved myself.
Usually something like that would have scared me. It would have made me afraid that I wasn't going to be good enough. That the people's expectations would crush me and I wouldn't be able to do what they needed me to do.
But it was amazing what it was like to not have people constantly telling me I was a failure before I'd even tried. I had more confidence, and I actually believed I could do it. Omar cheered me on, of course, but I also believed in myself.
It made for a nice change.
At the end of that month, I was too pregnant to go anywhere. My feet ached, and I craved all kinds of weird foods that Omar went to get for me without complaint.
He hovered, doting on me more than usual, making sure I wanted for nothing. He rubbed my back and my feet at night, helped me in and out of baths, and when I was too restless and uncomfortable to sleep, he went on walks with me around the palace, listening to me talk out ideas for new changes to make and offering his opinions.
It was during one of those late-night walks that I felt a pain in my side and had to stop, holding it and breathing through the pain.
"What?" Omar asked. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just...it hurt for a second. I'm okay."
The palace physician was on call twenty-four seven at that point, just in case, and I knew Omar was going to insist I went to see him.
I took another step and then felt a rush as my water broke.
"Um," I said.
"What is it? Are you okay?" His eyes were serious as he looked me over.
"I think...I think it's time."
I didn't need to explain what I meant. His eyes widened, and he nodded, picking me up and practically sprinting all the way down to where the physician's wing was.
No one was there when he burst in, and he growled, but I reached up and stroked his shoulder. "He's probably sleeping, Omar. It's late."
"Right," he said, taking a breath and then letting it out. "Right. Here." He sat me down on one of the chairs that were arranged in a little waiting room area outside of the room that had been set up with all the medical equipment. "You stay here. I'll get him."
I nodded and tried to make myself comfortable.
My heart was going a mile a minute, and I knew there was no use in hiding that I was nervous from Omar. He'd be able to feel it through the mark, the link we shared. I could feel his own nerves through it, too. He was just as scared as I was.
I hadn't ever planned on being a parent. I didn't know a lot about raising kids. My own mother had been killed before I could really meet her, and my father was a poor excuse for parenting. Well, the man I’d come to know as my father. I didn’t want to think about what must’ve happened to my real father.
King Heydar had been a monster. Both on the throne and as a parent.
I didn't want that for our child. I wanted them to grow up knowing they were loved and never feeling like an outsider or a burden.
The list of things not to do was longer than the things I knew I should do, but that was a start. I hoped.
While I waited, I rested a hand on my stomach, wincing when the pain built up again. I knew it wasn't going to be comfortable to have a baby, and I bit my lip, trying not to stress out.
Dr. Candorn was a well-respected physician who had been with the family for years. When I took over, I'd vetted him myself, making sure he wasn't so loyal to my father that he'd make things difficult for me.
It turned out he'd been advocating for better healthcare for workers and for the people for years and had been seeing to some of the servants in secret for a while.
He came walking into the room with tired eyes, dressed in little more than pants and a robe, with Omar on his heels.
"Your Majesty," he said, smiling and inclining his head. "I hear it's time."
I nodded. "I think so."
"Is everything okay?" Omar asked, sounding frantic. His eyes were wild, and I could see how concerned he was.
"I have to do an examination first," Dr. Candorn said, amused. "But I don't think there's any reason to worry."
He held out a hand and helped me up, and we headed to the exam room.
Omar held my hand in a tight grip once I was in the bed, and I gripped his hand back. "I'm right here," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."
“I know,” I said, smiling at him.
Dr. Candorn moved to a machine at my left, giving me a quick ultrasound...or at least it was supposed to be quick, but suddenly he paused.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, panic rising in the back of my throat like bile.
“Give me just a moment,” Dr. Candorn said as he printed the image on the
screen and stepped out of the room.
“What the hell just happened?” I asked, looking frantically up at Omar.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Calm down. It’s nothing,” he said. “It’s nothing,” he repeated, and I wondered if he was trying to convince me or himself.
More people had started to fill the room, nurses and pediatric specialists, they all hummed around us with straight faces making me more and more nervous.
I squeezed Omar’s hand.
“Doc, you’ve got to tell us what’s happening,” Omar finally said, straightening and towering over Dr. Candorn.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to worry. Either of you.” He looked over at me. “But the baby...part of his heart has developed on the outside of his body. We usually catch it earlier than this, but it’s not too late. We have a plan. Once he’s born, my team will immediately take him into surgery. I’ll be honest with you, generally, the odds aren’t good, but my team is the best second only to the surgeons of Halith.”
My vision blurred as tears collected in my eyes.
“Him?” Omar breathed, and I blinked up at him. “It’s a boy?” he said, as if he hadn’t heard anything else.
We’d agreed to wait to find out what we were having but all of that seemed irrelevant now.
“We’re having a boy, Peanut,” he said, staring at me, his eyes wet with tears.
I swallowed, my chest aching to see him so moved.
“But, but, his heart…”
Omar took my hands. “He’ll be fine,” Omar promised me. “He’s our boy. Nobody fights harder than us. This kid,” he placed his hand on my belly. “He knows how to survive.”
I nodded, forcing myself to believe him. I had to. I couldn’t bear the thought of him being wrong.
It took hours, but in the middle of the night, so late it was basically morning, Dr. Candorn settled between my legs, his team flanking him and at the ready.
“Okay, you’re just about ready to push, your majesty.”