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Even though I just made the same attempt, Ry trying to cancel it feels different. “Did you try to have it cancelled for my sake or yours?”
“Can’t it be both?”
My lips press together, but I’m not sure if they form a frown or a smile. “I suppose so.”
“Of course it can. We’ve always been on the same team.”
Yes, we’ve always both been on his team.
“You can be honest with me.” His eyes are wide and earnest. “Aren’t you somewhat relieved? You didn’t want to be Queen of Ceraun.”
“I don’t know. Some things would have been easier that way.” I am a terrible coward. Part of me would rather have my choices made for me than risk rejection. At the time, it felt like growth to accept a role greater than the comparatively carefree existence in Alchos I’d enjoy as a lower royal. Securing relations with Ceraun was something Alchos needed me for, and Ceraun needed me to secure their strength, even if it was only my presence that did it. I was taking responsibility for others. Except, I was still only taking what was given to me, not having to make any real choices.
“Well, yes. Queen consort might have been a happy position. Sovereign will be quite the headache, I think.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Rylan, you needn’t slither around it. Would you like to know if I’m still intending not to win the trial?”
His gaze drops. “It seemed inappropriate to ask.”
“It is. It really is. Do you ever stop thinking of yourself?”
“It’s not just me. I’m thinking of you and the kingdom.”
“Do you really think I’d be so dreadful for Alchos?” I get back to my feet and pace my sitting room, and a cool breeze calms the heat rising through my neck.
“No, of course—”
“And how could you possibly be thinking of me?”
“It would be a massive responsibility, for one.”
“And furthermore?”
“Furthermore, if you’re thinking that, as the heir, you wouldn’t end up in another arranged marriage, I can assure you Mother and Father aren’t going to rush into a new betrothal for you after Jamys. I don’t want you to make a rash decision based on something that won’t affect you.”
Underneath the tempest of my fury, I find a glimmer in his words. Even Rylan thinks the crown is mine for the taking—I just have to decide I want it.
“Well then, I appreciate your concern. I certainly wouldn’t want to rearrange my entire life based on a feminine, romantic whim.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Isn’t it?” I lean against the back of the sofa. “I assure you, I won’t base my performance on my marriage preferences.”
“Ara…”
“You may leave.”
His jaw clenches, but he goes.
Thank you, Ry. This makes things considerably less complicated. He’s right. I’ve been dwelling on how all of this affects me romantically, but that’s not a good reason to fight for the crown. Now it isn’t out of cowardice that I’m not confirming Tomas’ intentions. It’s to keep my own motives pure.
Whether being queen gets me Tomas or not, I will compete for Alchos. And for myself.
Chapter forty-eight
Lucy’s eyes bulge when she enters my sitting room with breakfast. “Oh! You’re up.” She sets down the tray and looks me up and down. It must be surprising to find me in a tunic, leggings, and boots—ready for training instead of sulking. “If you’d have rang, I could have done your hair.”
“I can manage this.” I toss my braid behind my shoulder. “Thank you, Lucy. I wanted to get an early start today.”
