Page 101 of The King's Queen

“Your kind heart will hurt you, but it will only hurt worse if you guard it.”

“And you’d know, wouldn’t you?” It isn’t an accusation or laced with spite like I had intended. Instead, it’s a gentle dawn, an understanding I’d been reaching for since he returned from war. Here, Blaine was warning me not as my personal guard or even my friend, but as my first love who never stopped loving. Now I play the role of the scorned and the scornful at the same time. And he stays.

Blaine leans forward a bit, brushing his weathered hand across my own and running his thumb over my palm. He frowns at the calluses and scars that have formed since the last time he held it, the lines of a story he is no longer a part of.

“If you only listen to one thing I’ve ever told you, let it be this.” Every word is low and strained, as if it pains him to part with this truth. “My biggest regret in life is believing that it would hurt us both less if I shut you out, that my burden was mine to bear alone. Don’t choose your pride over him.”

Somehow, I feel like we are no longer talking about Rowan, but a story yet to be closed. A single tear drips down my face, and he’s quick to brush it away. I dip my chin. It’s pathetic. I am crying over another man I was never going to be able to be with anyway. A man I’ll never see again.

“I’m sorry, Blaine.”

It’s true. I am sorry for not fighting harder for us, or at least trying to see past the shields he put up. I am sorry for not protecting him from Irene and for being at fault for all the turmoil in his life. I am sorry for not loving him in the way he wishes to be loved.

His eyes are soft again and hold the same joy they did all those years ago when he looks at me. We both know how to close this epilogue.

“Say it.”

My peace I’ve searched for is within my grasp, I just need to be brave enough to reach out and take it. I swallow thickly.

“I let you go.”

His shoulders relax, as if some burden has been lifted from them. His lips curve upwards in the kindest of smiles. “Thank you.”

When I awaken, I find the room is dark, and Tanja is curled into my side. With the back of my hand, I wipe at the tears that have begun to dry on my cheeks and pull the covers up to her chin.

I sense the attack before I see it. The rustling of a cloth being tugged loose from a bag or sack reaches me first. I reach for my dagger, but the scent hits my nose first, and I know it is too late. The scent of concentrated Etherbane floods my senses as the damp rag comes to rest over my nose and mouth, then the world goes dark.

Chapter41

Rowan

No one spoke to me once we returned to the compound last night. I didn’t offer any explanation as we unpacked our bags, nor did I say anything when they asked where Vera was. My mother and Blaine had already dozed off on the velvet seats together, a storybook open in her lap.

No one spoke to me when I woke up late for the first time since I entered this unsavory business, nor as I sat down and stared emptily at my cup of black coffee.

No one other than my mother.

“I thought she was different,” I can hear her murmur to Kya in the corner. “Something must have happened. Has he said anything?” The assassin shakes her head softly, worry clouding her features as she helps guide her to the table. Some days she gets dizzy, and she touches the scar at her hairline. My stomach churns. Just another thing to thank my father for. I don’t care to tell her I get matching headaches on occasion.

“Don’t bother, Mother, she isn’t coming back. She chose to stay on her own.” I cringe at the lie but play it off by swallowing the bitter drink before me. Kya coughs not so subtly and tilts her head towards the door into our common space. Amír and Derrín follow behind her silently, but Emilie’s heated gaze never strays from my impassive face.

“My son. My love. My light.” My mother croons before her soft smile turns to a steely glare. “I raised you to be better than this. Where is she, truly?” Her words pierce my skin, but I attempt to brush it off. Silently, I stalk from the room into my study. My three Nightwalkers sit stoically, waiting for the impending storm. My mother trails me in a fury, her short steps a cacophonous thunderstorm in her wake.

“I just don’t understand.” Emilie folds her hands under her arms as she glares at me. “Whatever spat you two had clearly isn’t as important as your relationship. One of these days, you’re going to need to swallow your pride before it swallows you, Rowan!”

“This isn’t a matter of pride, Mother!”

“Then what is it?”

“She’s my sister!” I nearly choke on the words, bile rising in my throat. “Verosa is my sister. She is the princess and the king’s daughter. She may not be full blood, but some of our blood is shared and…” I gag and keel over, pressing the back of hand over my mouth in an attempt not to spew my coffee across the floor. I imagine it would somehow taste even worse the second time around.

Kya gasps. Derrín whistles lowly. Amír swears.

My mother just sighs heavily.

“By the Laei, you got my looks but your father’s brains.”

“What?” I scoff. My mother looks like she wants to shake my shoulders until my brains return to my skull. Instead, she settles for a deep breath and presses her palms together. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, placating. As if I am just a boy again.

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