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“Go inside, Lillian.”
She bows her head and acquiesces.
I hold his stare as Lillian walks away. “King Urian, I haven’t had an opportunity to offer you my—”
“Save it. I don’t expect you to be forlorn about Jamys’ death any more than I expected you to be happy about marrying him.”
“Of course I’m saddened by his death. He was a good man.”
His eyes narrow. “But not good enough for you, I suppose?”
“Too good, actually, but that has nothing to do with it. Neither of us had a choice in the matter, and none of it can come to pass now anyway.”
“How lucky for you.” His nose flares as he stares me down.
“You cannot think me so depraved as to wish him dead.”
“I don’t presume to know the limits of your depravity.”
He’s grieving. Ignore him. His opinion is of no importance. I may never have to see him again. The boldness I threw at him the last time we met would be uncalled for in the wake of Jamys’ death, but I cannot let him walk all over me. “I came to pay my respects, and to let you and your family know I share in your sorrows. Whether you care to accept that or not changes nothing.”
“I don’t care to share anything with the likes of you.”
My jaw tenses, but I manage to swallow back any hostile words. “Fortunately, we aren’t likely to find ourselves in each other’s company again.” I offer a slight curtsy. “Goodbye, Your Majesty. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
As I walk away, I remind myself he hasn’t lost our alliance. Penum is already battering them for their relations with us, and the entire kingdom of Ceraun can’t be punished for their king’s vileness.
Chapter forty-seven
Light glows from the edges of the curtains. I’m in no mood to start another day. The sound of my sitting room door closing reaches me, but I don’t want to eat. Being home hasn’t helped. If anything, it’s made it all worse.
Hundreds of miles between us and a place where he’s never been, allowed me to set Tomas aside in my mind. To consider what Jamys’ death means for us is despicable, but now that I’m back, the pull toward him is another ache in my mangled soul.
The smell of bacon sweeps under the door, and my mouth waters. “Who’s really in control here?” The air seems more autonomous by the day. Enticing me to eat is just one of the ways it’s been trying to manipulate me. It’s supposed to be the other way around.
I trudge out of my bedchamber to find my breakfast, acquiescing to the less-than-subtle hints. My desk beckons me as I eat. I’d like to send for Jo or Tomas. They’re the people I went to when I learned of my betrothal. They’re the ones I go to for everything. But they’re too involved, and this is complicated. They can’t be impartial. And perhaps I’m afraid to know where Tomas stands…
My entire life has changed. I’m no longer betrothed. I won’t be Queen of Ceraun. From an outside perspective, it’s too soon for me to think of other marriage prospects, but I had been thinking about that all along. The glimmer of hope lies in my chance to be with Tomas without blowing up lives and politics, without any regrets. But what if I was wrong? What if he doesn’t want that? Our affair being only that because we couldn’t marry was acceptable. Maybe that’s the only reason it went on; we were able to have our fun, and Tomas never had to worry about me demanding a commitment because I couldn’t make one. If that hadn’t been the case, he may not have continued to seek me out.
The thought shrivels my heart.
Would that have been better? If we had cut everything off before it got so far? Not knowing the rush of each encounter with him sounds horrid. I’d only have been happy with my life because I never would have experienced true ecstasy.
I drop my face into my hands. None of this should be a priority.
A knock sounds before Lucy peeks in. “Good morning.” I merely nod, and she comes in. “The Queen and King have requested your presence in the Queen’s study this afternoon.”
I rub my forehead. “The formality isn’t necessary, Lucy. I’d really like for anything to feel ordinary.”
“Right. Of course. I’m sorry.” She flitters off to prepare a bath while I finish nibbling on my breakfast.
After bathing and dressing, I enjoy the familiar feeling of pins sliding into my hair. This little bit of normalcy means more when nothing is normal at all. So many days spent tossing my hair in a simple knot while traveling was fine, but these rituals calm me.
“How have things been here?” I ask. “In the wake of that trial, does everyone think we are indeed monsters now?”
“Not at all. On the contrary—people think you’re gods now that they’ve seen such an exhibition of your powers.”
She doesn’t sound thrilled by the idea, or perhaps I’m projecting. I don’t want people to think we’re all powerful, but I suppose it’s better than the alternative.
