Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“You’re right, I don’t.”
The lantern light shines through the branches, allowing me to meet his gaze.
“I am what I am, and you are what you are, and we can’t change any of it. There is no point dwelling on what we shared in the past because it is just that—in the past.”
It’s official. The king of Islor is breaking up with me. I knew it was coming, yet I feel no relief hearing the words now. “You think I haven’t figured that out already? It’s been over since Cirilea.” I set my jaw. “You abandoned me when I was standing right in front of you!”
“And have I left your side?” he asks calmly.
Every night. “No, but only because you need me.”
He picks an apple off the stem. “I have the people of Islor to think of, and I must do what’s best for them, no matter the cost.”
“And what exactly is this costing you?”
His chuckle is derisive. “What hasn’t it cost me?”
His family.
His crown.
His heart.
Another darker thought stirs, and my chest tightens as the pieces click together. Little comments he’s made, things Gesine has alluded to. I level him with a hard look. “You want to use me to get your throne back and then what? What happens to me after that?”
He’s the first to look away. “I cannot see into the future.”
Neither can I, but I can guess. “Everyone’s an enemy now, right?”
“I must prepare for all outcomes for the sake of Islor.” His voice is wooden as he focuses on the fruit in his grasp.
I push aside this nauseating sensation, knowing the kinds of choices Zander must be weighing about me. “Don’t worry. I’m used to being a pawn.” I spent years playing Korsakov’s game, knowing he would have me killed the second I outlived my purpose.
The difference is, I wasn’t in love with him.
Zander flinches, but then his body stiffens with his resolve. “We cannot take that girl with us. Venhorn is no place for her. It’ll be dangerous enough as it is.”
Switching topics. More proof of a guilty conscience. But I let it go because the truth is, I don’t think I can hear him say those other words out loud without it breaking me. “It’s Eden’s choice.”
“And if you told her the truth, do you think she would make the same one?”
“Fine. We can find a better keeper for her in Bellcross.”
“We do not have time to evaluate suitable keepers.”
I try another angle. “What about Woodswich? Elisaf told me the mortals who live there are free.”
His chuckle is dark. “The girl wouldn’t last the winter there with those people.”
“Well then, I don’t have an answer, but at least I’m doing something to try to stop this abuse. What have you done, besides talk about it?” My voice cracks as my emotions spill over and my frustration swells. “You’re too busy playing king to fill the role.”
His eyes blaze with anger.
But I don’t relent. “And you think you’re the only one who’s lost something? I’ve lost everything!” I drop the basket of apples, scattering them over the ground, and rush away, unwilling to let him see me cry.
By the time I shove through the gate, the tears are streaming down my cheeks.
11
Zander
Romeria storms away, her back rigid as she crashes through the gate, likely waking half the Legion—though they’re never fully asleep, ready to spring into action at a second’s notice.
Moments later, my ears catch the first sob as it escapes from her throat.
My molars grind. Pacifying others with lies has never been my strength, but it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. She is weighing the same sorts of decisions I must. She just doesn’t have all the necessary information.
Standing in that arena, facing Atticus’s accusations, I chose Romeria over my crown. There is no other way to explain it. And if I had to do it again, I would choose the same. But how can I choose a key caster, regardless of what I feel for the woman who wields that power, when I know the cost could be catastrophic?
I am a king. I do not have that luxury.
Tonight, with her staring up at me through those alluring blue eyes, I wanted to dismiss every doubt, every fear, every worry, just to feel her warm body and soft lips again. I wanted to tell her that I abhorred my time with that tributary, that I didn’t take a drop more of her blood than needed, and nothing else.
I wanted to tell her that my feelings for her are still very much in the present.
But is that by my will, or Aoife’s?
It’s infuriating to not trust my own heart.
And the day may come where I’m forced to ask her to open the nymphaeum door, knowing she may die. Ask her to trust these nymphs, knowing they may demand her life. If I had to risk her like that today, I wouldn’t have it in me.