Page 215 of The Throne Seeker
Judging from the gleaming floor and the fluffed rugs beneath her feet, the servants had already made their rounds. They’d polished the candelabras and replaced the torches to brighten their way as they trekked up the main stairwell. They hadn’t seen a soul besides the guards. She was sure because of the hour, they were the only ones still awake, until Rose heard a pair of voices.
Harriet and Roman waited outside their mother’s door under the arched sun-etched keystone. Harriet had her arms crossed, glaring at Roman, whose back was turned to them.
“We have to find him.” Harriet’s voice carried. “He wouldn’t choose not to come. He should be here by now. What if something’s happened to him? She is our best chance to convince him to come home. Let her go find him.”
“Do you know how dangerous that would be for her? Besides, we don’t even know if he’s still in Amernth. It’s too far,” Roman argued.
The siblings’ conversation came to an abrupt halt at the sound of their approaching footsteps. Harriet saw them first, peering over Roman’s shoulder as her youthful eyes lit up with joy. Rose could’ve felt Harriet’s excitement from across the castle.
“Xavier!” Harriet exclaimed, sprinting down the hallway to him.
Xavier’s face shifted into a handsome grin, holding out his arms as Harriet crashed into him.
Rose was hardly paying attention, her sea-green eyes fixed on Roman, who’d whirled around. Her eyes softened as a river of guilt tore at her for her kiss with Xavier.
Roman’s golden eyes warmed at the sight of her, her siren immediately sensing how hard it was not to copy his sister and run to her. Instead, his gaze passed over her to his brother. His warmth dimmed. Nevertheless, he welcomed Xavier, enveloping him in a hug before clapping his shoulder. “Took you long enough.”
“How is she?” Xavier asked, glancing at the door with hesitancy.
“Terrible.” Tristan’s voice came from behind them. “But what would you care?”
Rose spun, finding Tristan and Satin coming toward them. She stiffened as Xavier’s lips curled into a scowl.
“Last time you were here, you nearly killed Rose,” Tristan said as he strutted toward them. “But then again, you never cared much for her life, did you? Or Mother’s, it would seem.”
A violent force raged just beneath Xavier’s skin.
Anticipating his action, she placed her hand on Xavier’s forearm before he could take a step. “Don’t,” she whispered.
Roman’s eyes flickered down to her hand on Xavier’s arm. A burst of emotion came from him, but it was gone so fastshe couldn’t determine what it was—the contact of her hand on Xavier overpowering her senses.
“Stop it,” Harriet said, glaring at Tristan. “He’s only just returned.”
Thankfully, Xavier heeded Rose’s advice, clenching his fists instead. With a calm voice, he said, “It’s okay, Harriet. Tristan knows all about the value of lives, don’t you, Tristan?”
Tristan was about to retort, but Rose intervened. “This isn’t the time or place. Your mother needs you all right now. This is about her.”
“Speaking of mothers, why don’t you go find your own?” Satin said, seeming particularly unwell herself. “This is a private family matter, and you’renotfamily.”
Rage simmered inside her. Her siren took over her limbs before she could stop it. She prowled toward the girl with lethal, smooth movements, like a cat approaching a mouse. “Perhaps I soon will be. Then we could be sisters,” she said with a dangerously sweet voice.
Roman’s energy lit up beside her. He smashed his lips together to keep them from curling up into a smile. Tristan’s gaze, however, went straight to Xavier’s with a burning hatred.
To Satin’s credit, she didn’t back down. “None of them would be foolish enough to marry you.”
An awkward silence filled the corridor.
“Maybe you’re right,” Rose acknowledged humbly, “but I’m not worried about that at the moment. I’m staying. If the king asks me to leave, I’ll do so. But you do not get to tell me what to do. Not yet.” She faced Xavier. “Come on.” She made for the door.
Xavier’s icy eyes narrowed at Satin. “It’s nice to meet you,” he drawled sarcastically. He turned to Tristan. “She’s perfect for you,” he muttered, his eyes raking him up and down before he followed Rose.
She knocked on the door, waiting until she heard the king’s voice within. “Come in.”
Rose entered. The queen’s frail body rested on the bed with her eyes closed, rasps filling the humid air. The bloodstained handkerchief was still clutched in her hand. Rose’s heart cracked at the sight.
The king sat in the chair beside her bed, grasping his wife’s free hand. His weary eyes darted to Rose as she crept in. He straightened in surprise, expecting the maids.
“Rose,” the king said, his eyes easing. “What is it?”
