Page 95 of The King's Queen

Desire like nothing I’ve ever felt pools in my gut, stealing all the air from my lungs in one breath. Rowan pauses to scan my face, attentive and caring as always, before pressing another kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I sigh against it. He’s holding me like I’m the most precious thing in this world, and if he were to tell me I am, I would believe him after this. It’s just kissing, and I don’t want it to lead to anything more for now, but I feel as if I could conquer anything. I don’t need to fear the fall any longer because I know Rowan will be there waiting to catch me.

Suddenly, the door to the tapestry room slams open, and a masked patron screeches.

“By the Laei, we are in public.” Torin mocks a gasp, pressing his palm to his chest as if he is about to faint.

“Torin!”

“Next time try behind the training grounds at this hour. Secluded, dark, dangerous…sexy.” He winks as my face burns. Rowan makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a growl, obviously not too pleased to be interrupted. His hand withdraws from my waist, and allows me to smooth my dress and hair out. He interjects at odd moments, pushing my hands away and fixing my unkept hair or smudged rogue.

I ignore the pang of jealousy that invades my core when I notice how experienced he seems to be at this. It isn’t fair, I know, especially considering my history with the former Captain of the Guard.

Torin watches with an amused expression. I would find comfort in it if I couldn’t see the weariness it hides. He’s running off of fumes, and soon enough, I fear he will combust.

“Anyways, thanks for the show.” The captain’s face falls. “The king requests your presence, Verosa.”

Immediately all the lights I had lit fall, the world darkening. Rowan swears and reaches for me in the dark, but I barely feel his touch as I hear the distant striking of the clock. I am supposed to be on the other side of this wall with Amír and Kya right now, already making my way towards the port between the Krycolian and Nevan border.

Rowan leans forward, his lips brushing against my ear. “What does the king want with you?” His concern and anger are both evident as they commingle in his tone. My hands begin to shake at my side. This is the moment I had been hoping to avoid. The moment where the truth comes to light.

I rise on my toes and press a soft kiss against his jaw, unable to reach his cheek at this angle. Brushing a stray hair from his eyes I force myself to be still.Breathe.

“Everything will make sense after this,” I whisper. “Set your distraction, we will leave right after this.”

Without so much as a backwards glance, I accept Torin’s arm. I know if I look at Rowan now, I will crumble and run, and everything we have worked for will fall apart. Rowan lets me go with a silent promise.I trust you. I love you.

The thought sends a wild flurry into to my stomach despite my anxieties. Kya and Amír will have to wait, the plan will adapt. They will need to trust me.

I suppress a smile. The image of Kya pushing her lover to the point of panic, causing Amír to storm the ballroom, pistol aimed at my fiancé. The ballroom will burst into chaos, but it will be no different from any other mission. Kya and Amír will carve through the ballroom, toss me a sword as we make our escape. I can see my father’s shock, as well as Lucius’s.

Torin nudges my side, bringing me from my daydream. “You happy about something?”

“Shut up.” I rest my head on his shoulder one last time. “Happy, sad. It’s all so temporary. I wish I could go back to last summer when everything was simple.”When there was one more of us.

Torin stiffens as he always does whenever Blaine is mentioned. He had known Blaine was leaving all along, and yet he let him go knowing how much he would have to take on. How much it would hurt. Torin had always been a better friend than I am, and loyalty has always been his fatal flaw. The weight of his station is slowly crushing him, and I fear that one day I will return, and there will be nothing left of the friend I had.

“I think he would want you to be happy. No, I know he does. He never fell out of love with you, you know. He just went through so much. War changes people. The feelings stayed, but the expression changed. Plus, your mother being the one to ship him off didn’t help.” The surprise of Torin finally speaking on the matter is only overshadowed by the shock of one other thing.

“My mother what?”

Torin blanches. Clearly, he has let a palace secret slip. He licks his lips and lowers his voice.

“Blaine’s deployment was sped up by your mother when she learned of your feelings for him. He was never supposed to be on the front lines either. Speculation says she threatened the captain with a curse that when he was of age, he was to send him off. You were only nine at the time.”

My mother was a cruel woman, that much was given. She would have let me die in the snow to prove a point. She once whipped my legs raw to the point where my nanny had to throw herself over me. She went missing the next week. She would withhold my meals before balls and celebrations. But this…

She damned a boy’s future and life over a childish crush. He was eleven when she made this choice. I knew she was responsible for Blaine being sent to war, but not how early she had begun her plotting. I cannot even fathom the depths of evil in her soul. Even from Hell she torments me.

“I hate her,” I whisper, my eyes burning as I press them closed. “I hate her so much.”

Torin says nothing, having known me long enough to read between the lies. If Irene had been from anywhere else, then this marriage wouldn’t be looming over my head. Had she never whipped me, my nanny wouldn’t have died, and Tanja would still have a mother. Had she never seen Blaine, he never would have gone to war, that part of him never would have died, and I wouldn’t have had the chance to kill the rest of him. So many have died, when does it end?

Never. All of this, all the pain and loss, it is all because of her.

We reach the ballroom all too soon, slipping in silently among the crowd as if we had never left. We weave through masked patrons who have begun to sway under the effect of the alcohol. We slip behind the band, playing the final few chords of a slow ballad, covering our hushed conversation.

My friend squeezes my arm. “Ready to go change history?” he jests. “The disappearance of Crown Princess Verosa. One night a future queen, the next gone without a trace. A shadow in the wind.” He adds the last bit for dramatic effect, and I let laughter slip from between my lips.

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