Page 37 of Nightingale

“What happened to her?”

Because there was a comfort in sharing these sorts of details with him, knowing that they held a common thing in their lives. Castil was ice, cold, unwelcoming and downright frigid with his intrusive ways and vexing comments. But Rian, as his mother had said, was fire. He was bright and warm, light and welcoming with his boyish charm and impish smile that lifted to one side of his face instead of spreading across it all. Easy to start and hard to put out once his spark had ignited.

There was a part of her that was inexplicably drawn to him like a moth to candlelight. For once, Vrea didn’t feel so alone.

So she let herself be drawn in.

She let herself enjoy his company, even if she was supposed to hate him.

Rian let out a taut breath, dragging his dark blue eyes up to meet hers. In the smoke-ridden light, they danced between sapphire and aquamarine, a stunning mix that she found herself intoxicated with.“My father never remarried after your family killed his wife. I don’t blame either of them for that, since it’s far too easy for our partners, our siblings, our children even if we ever have any, to be taken away from us at any point in life.”

It was the exact reason why her mother never found another permanent lover, always finding pleasure in the arms ofstrangers, with the occasional return to an old flame, like her father. The Queen of Niroula was far past any childbearing years, surprising them all with Tessa at a late age that seemed impossible. But she still took lovers to bed, and Vrea didn’t blame her.

“But he also didn’t like to share.” Rian drew her from her thoughts, letting his arm fall back to his side as he applied his pressure on it instead of his knees. “He found her tangled up in another’s arms, a guard in the castle actually, and had them both put down as punishment. I don’t remember when, or how, but that he came up to my room after and informed me about it.”

Her blood chilled.

“How old were you?”

He looked up towards the midnight sky as he calculated the gap of time in his head, only to come back down to her after a good while. “Six, I want to say? It all jumbles together after a bit, so it’s hard to pull exact dates and ages out of my brain.”

She couldn’t imagine it.

Couldn’t think of her mother finding her at such a young age and telling her about her other parents death, letting her know the reason behind it and that she’d never be seeing them again. Her mother was not the loving type, one that would sacrifice children for the sake of her Kingdom in the long run, but there was an occasional gentle streak about her.

“What about yours?” Rian changed the sour mood into something that she assumed he thought would be more pleasant, but was mistaken.

“My father was a baker, and he sired Teminos as well, but that’s all I know.” Vrea told him. “I don’t care to know him, and he didn’t care to know us. There were no special nicknames, nor fond memories to dredge up from the depths of my mind.”

“A baker? As a consort to a Queen?”

She lifted and lowered her shoulders. “My mother wasn’t tooparticular about who entered her bed. If she got pregnant, then another heir was added to the line of succession. Her only husband was Malik’s father, who was killed by your side.”

“Far better than my father.” Rian scoffed. “They had to have some sort of noble blood in them in order to be granted thehonourof joining him in his bed. And yet some nights I walk by his chambers and I swear that most of his company no longer bear the correct parts for bearing a child. Once a month, there’s talk of a male slipping out of his room.”

“Kings can do whatever they like.” She quickly corrected herself. “Whoever they like.”

Rian smirked. “Indeed it would appear so. I have no issue with him bedding another man, but he’s never struck me as the sort. I wonder if he’s the one that does the riding, or if he’s the one that’sbeingridden.”

Not that it was a topic that she particularly wanted to voice any sort of opinion on, but her sarcastic wit and sassy nature took over before she could bite her tongue and keep out of it. “I can’t imagine he’d let any oneridehim. He doesn’t seem the sort to give up control, even in bed. I know it might be a lifestyle for some in roles of power to want to feel powerless for once, but not him. He likes it all too much to give it up, even for a night.”

Rian considered her thoughts and agreed. “Nor do I. I think it would take quite a bit for my father to ever give up his power, and I highly doubt it would ever come willingly.”

Vrea felt the flutter of her lashes against her cheek as tiredness seeped into her. She tucked her arm under her and propped her head over it, curling her knees into her chest. The heat licked her weary bones, comforted that chill that occasionally still bit into her as she watched the fire dance in the wind.

She thought about the King, about his death- often, and by her own hands most of the time, but for a brief second she pictured what it would be like to hand that task over to someone farmore deserving of it. Vrea supposed if anyone should have the opportunity to kill the vain bastard, then it should be one of the children that hated him most. Far more personal, far more reason to allow someone with his own blood to do it than one of hers.

A different way to prove that he belonged on the bloodstained throne of Carylim.

“Maybe when you kill him.” She uttered.

“No,” He didn’t hesitate to say. The determination in his statement struck her as odd. “I won’t be the one to kill him.”

“You won’t?” Confusion cut through her like a sword to her side in the middle of battle as she peered towards him, finding it difficult to make out his handsome features in the dark.

Rian shook his head. “I’ve already promised Castil thathecould be the one to end the King of Carylim.”

Nineteen

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