Page 111 of Crownless King

I’d left enough bread and cooked grains and vegetables for Aithen to last for a week. Sauria could also add some fresh berries and dried fruit to that. I desperately hoped I wouldn’t be forced to stay away from him for much longer. But with a war looming over the kingdom, who could tell what the future held for all of us?

My heart swelled with worry and longing for my baby boy. I’d die to protect him. Only how could I keep him safe if I wasn’t even with him? The best thing I could do for his safety was to keep his very existence secret from everyone.

Concern for both my child and his father tormented me. I restlessly paced the luxurious royal rooms, needing to do something.

The words of the letter from the scroll kept echoing through my mind. Sadly, they didn’t explain what to do to reverse the effects of the magic from the World of Under. I was no closer to bringing Voron back than before finding the scroll. The protectivelilialavines wouldn’t release him to me. All I could do was pray he was not a motionless body without a spirit already.

I gripped a vine in the wall closest to me just to feel his presence in the magic of the palace. It pulsed in it, stronger than ever, giving me strength too. With it, I could think, instead of dissolving into a puddle of grief and tears.

If the scroll remained in the wall even after the renovation, what other secrets might these rooms hold?

After the bedroom, I inspected the spacious bathroom with the marble bathing pool filled by cascading fountains, then the several sitting rooms, each seemed to have a different purpose ranging from work to relaxation.

One room had been converted into Voron’s reading space, with scrolls littering a wide table and books filling the tall shelves that lined every wall.

Voron would be the first person I would go to for answers. Intelligent and well-read, he seemed to know everything. Sadly, he wasn’t here, and I had to figure out how to get him back.

His reading room held all the familiar signs of Voron. A warm, cozy blanket lay on the chair by the fire, because the weather was cold and gloomy without me by his side. A map of the area on the other side of the Cloud River, with all the ongoing improvement projects marked, was spread on the massive desk, because he was passionate about all of them, making the lives of his people easier. A midnight-blue satin robe was draped over the chair by the desk, because he must have left it here that morning when the servants had arrived to dress him for the festival ceremony today.

It was chilly in the royal rooms, but I didn’t feel like calling someone to start a fire for me. Instead, I draped Voron’s robe around my shoulders, his scent tugging at my heart with the feeling of loss.

I sat in his chair, gliding my fingers over the intricate carvings on the armrests. He’d sat right here just this morning. What was he doing? Going over the map? Reading?

I opened one of the compartments on the side of the desk, then another one, and the next. Clean quills filled the first, with a stack of writing paper lying in another, along with some clean and used scrolls in the third.

The fourth compartment wouldn’t open, however. It wasn’t locked, but there was a resistance of magic holding it closed when I tried to pull at the thick silver handle.

Closing my eyes, I willed it to move just like I had done with the vines. The small door shifted a little, giving in bit by bit until I opened it completely, revealing a thick, leather-bound journal inside.

Its cover bore no title and no adornments. The leather was stained and discolored, and when I took it out, it became clear some pages had been bent, wrinkled, or torn. It looked like a practice notebook of a messy school child, not something that belonged to the monarch of a mighty kingdom. Still, this was the only item he kept locked in his desk.

The writing inside looked just as messy. The letters often ran too large, running off the page, or too small, making the words look squished together. Many pages were stained. The ink ran, smudged.

“Where are you, Sparrow?”The question took up the entire first page, like a title. And there was no answer.

I turned the page, running my eyes over the uneven lines.

“I need to write this down before the grief crushes my skull and destroys me… Will it purge the pain, too, once the words are out of my head and on the paper? I doubt it. But what choice do I have?”

The letters were written in broken, jerky lines that didn’t convey the steady confidence Voron usually displayed in public, but I recognized his handwriting. He had written these words, every single one of them.

“Wherever you are, I have to be.”The next page read.

I drew in a shaky breath. We were in the same world, in the same palace. So close, but still torn away from each other.

“How dare you fly away from me, little bird? How could you leave me? You own me. My mind, my heart, my body… My very spirit belongs to you and only you.”

The words grew angry at times, forming into what seemed to be essentially one long letter to me that Voron wrote over the course of the past months.

“What are you doing to me? I know you’re alive. I can feel you, but I can’t get to you. You’re in a place I can’t reach. Do you know what fucking torture that is? I can’t even die to be with you.”

He was furious withmefor somethinghehad done to both of us. His letter was the result of pain and passion, without any logic at all.

“I hate you, Sparrow. I hate you for the torture you’re putting me through. For the numb days and the restless nights. For the yearning that’s tearing me apart. For knowing that it would never get better. I hate you with more passion than I’ve ever hated anyone. And I love you, more fervently than I have ever loved, than I ever knew was possible.”

He’d never told me he loved me. His feelings for me might’ve been different back when we were together. Did being away from me make him realize we belonged together?

I stroked the page. So much hurt and longing had been poured out on it.

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