Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
“Even when Queen Mercy dies, I will not feel the same as you,” he retorted. “I have great love for my mother, and she me, but we never shared warmth. She is queen and I am to be king and for as long as I remember, she treated me entirely in the manner she saw fitted the rearing of the next king. It was not my father who saw to my schooling, the depth of it, the breadth of it, the concentration of it, and the expectation I should excel at it. It was my mother. It was not my father who saw to my military training, it was my mother. It was not my father who demanded from when I was age nine that I attend tribunals, disputes, and when my father sat as magistrate. It was my mother. And it was my mother, after, who whispered in my ear what decisions she felt were right, or those that were wrong, and eventually asked me how I felt and made me defend my positions.”
I lay there, still, staring into his face, astonished by this.
Also fascinated.
And lastly, saddened.
“If I were sent into exile, and my mother went with me,” True continued, “she would not help me to build the new life we would need to build and then set about living it. She would plot and she would connive to find a way that we were both, especially me, put back in our rightful place. Even if it meant her, or my, death. So I do not know warmth and smiles and understanding from my mother. When she dies, I will miss her. I will mourn her. I will forever be grateful that she spent so much energy crafting me into the honorable and just king I hope to become. I did not have what I saw you had from your mother. Though if I did, one thing I know, I would miss it more.”
“True,” I whispered.
His arm around me disappeared in order that he could wrap his fingers around the side of my neck.
“And you will not be the queen my mother is,” True whispered back harshly. “I will see to it there will be no need for that to become you. You will provide our children with smiles and warmth and understanding. You will be the mother your mother was. And that way, she will live on through you. There will be peace and joy and family in the royal quarters of Birchlire Castle. That will be my gift to you. And that will be your gift to Sofia. But I cannot give it, and you will not have it, if I am Your Grace. I am your betrothed, Farah. I’ll be your husband. The father of your children. Those come first. And the last will always be your king.”
I was lying beside him in the dark, unmoving, and yet breathing as if I was running.
“You must feel your sorrow, sweets, of course,” he said in a softer tone. “It is an honor to your mother. But I do not know what we face. We’ve barely left this palace and we’ve had two casualties—”
“Two?” I interrupted him to ask.
“Aramus lost a man.”
I didn’t know that.
“Oh no,” I said quietly.
“Yes, Farah,” he replied, now stroking my throat with his thumb. “There will be times when you will need to be weak, and I will be strong. There will be times when that’s the other way around. But we have no idea what we’re going to face. So when you are weak, I will persist in helping you to find your strength. And I will need you to do the same for me.”
“I miss her,” I blurted.
“Farah,” he whispered, his hand coming up to cup my jaw.
My voice was getting thicker. “I ca-cannot believe that the sun will rise tomorrow, like it did today, and I-I will not s-see her.”
“Darling,” he murmured.
“I-I d-do not wish to c-cry again,” I stated before a sob forced its way up my throat.
True turned me in his arms and pulled me close, gliding his fingers through my hair as I wept into his bare chest.
“I’m angry,” I sobbed into his skin.
“Of course you are.”
“At Elpis. At my father. At whoever sent those snakes. At everyone.”
“You’ve the right.”
“And…and, my chest…it burns, True. The pain is…if I allow myself to think on it, it’s unbearable.”
“Weep, sweets, that may help put out the fire,” he urged.
“I hate the world,” I told him.
“As you should, the world is behaving like it hates you.”
At these words, I let out a snagged laugh and tipped my head back to look at him.
His hand came to my cheek and he ran a thumb over the wet.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“Because you need me.”
“In bed?” I pushed.
“Farah, you will not sleep alone for the rest of your days.”