Page 71 of Kingdom Of Veil And Vow

“Will do, Xander,” he says with a godsdamn salute. “Anything else you two might need? Like perhaps a pair of boots for the lady?”

She looks down at her feet before we share a glance, neither of us realizing our mistake until now. We left her boots in the cell.

“Boots would be great.” Guiding Siyala to the door that Grayson came through, I open it, pausing to toss another request at him. “And a hot meal.”

Chapter Forty-Three: Siyala

It has been exhilarating making our way to the tall, multi-story building set away from the castle that Xander calls the barracks, even if I did forget the boots Xander brought me. We move quickly, staying hidden amongst the treeline until we come upon a large stretch of grass that is unoccupied. “The training grounds,” Xander offers, and then it is silent once more until we cross the grounds and find the steps under the cover of just a sliver of moonlight. We manage to avoid seeing anyone, making our way to the third floor quickly.

Xander’s room is the first one to the right of the stairs, and though I am not sure what to expect when he slides his key into the lock and opens the door, surprise still races through me at the sight of the tidy space. The room is small, nothing more than a bed and a few chairs in the main area, a bathroom and, presumably, a closet just past that. There is one window and a balcony with a sliding glass door, the curtains to both drawn shut.

“You can set your stuff down here,” Xander says, gesturing to one of the chairs set at the end of the bed. Then he disappears around a corner, the sound of his armor being taken off making my pulse leap.

Slinging the bag off of my shoulder, I set it on the chair and unhook my cloak to lay on top, my attention falling to the bed centered in the space. It is made, a dark blue comforter pulled taut over the bed’s expanse, the shape of two pillows rising beneath it. Chewing on my lower lip, my thoughts wander to if he’s ever brought another to this room before I force a rough swallow down. It is, of course, none of my business what Xander has done in this room or who he has done it with, but it doesn’t mean it stops the thoughts from flitting in and out of my mind, like insects I can’t swat away.

When Xander rounds the corner again, he’s dressed down to only an undershirt and black pants, his boots discarded along with his armor. He searches my face, a question so clearly written over his own—one that he ultimately chooses not to voice. Instead, we run through the plan again, with adjustments to account for the now delayed ship. Eventually, Grayson shows up with dinner, casting sly glances in Xander’s direction that make me smile. We take our meal sitting on the floor, the only noise for a long while the scraping of our forks against our plates. As the awkward and silent tension grows, frustration also rises within me. We have been given more time where we aren’t on the run or trapped in a cell. I don’t want to waste it sitting in silence.

Xander clears his throat, and my heart skips a beat as my gaze raises to meet his. But he only gathers our plates before standing, setting them on a small nightstand to the left of the bed. “Would you like to shower?”

Standing as well, I fold my arms over my chest, that irritation now burning. “I bathed only a few hours ago.” At least, I think it was only a few hours ago. So much has happened since then.

“Then we should get ready for bed,” he suggests, though his brows scrunch together as if he isn’t sure about that option. “I will take the floor—”

“Is this because of your third rule?” I blurt, blood rushing past my ears as heat claims my cheeks.

Xander looks momentarily stunned, a hand reaching up to tuck his shoulder-length hair behind his ear. “I’m going to need you to clarify.”

“Avoiding me,” I say, the edges of my voice softening.

Understanding has him scratching at the back of his neck, and he takes so long to answer that I begin to regret asking him at all. And yet a part of me still wants to know the answer. Wants to beg him to just be honest because I see the way he looks at me. See how he blurs the lines of his rules so that I am safer for it. More at ease. I will be leaving, and he will continue his mission here, and though he owes me nothing, I still want to know more about him.

“We met at a tavern in Vitour,” he begins, guiding us to sit on the edge of the bed, his gaze affixed to the floor. “I had been forced out for a night of fun, Grayson declaring that I spent too much time being serious. That it was important to let loose every once in a while. So we walked to the first place we could find, and I spotted her the instant we stepped in.”

Jealousy slithers through me as I adjust my seat on the bed. Gods, he isn’t even mine. Wrong, a voice whispers. Shut up, I mentally shout back.

“Her hair was the color of spilled cherry wine, and beneath the chandelier hanging above the dance floor, it was impossible to look away from her. She danced wildly, freely. As if she did not care who or what was watching her. It was the type of freedom I had never known, even before I was forced into the guard. My mother and I had lived by our own set of rules to try and keep us hidden from the king.

“I thought it was kismet when she spotted me over the revelry where I sat with Grayson in the corner. Thought it was even more serendipitous when she came to grab my hand, insisting I join her on the dance floor. That was how I spent a lot of our relationship. Thinking each perfectly tailored gift, each sweetly spoken word, was a sign that this thing between us was destined. That it was meant to be.” He chuckles bitterly, eyes lost to the memories. “She told me she worked on her family’s farm just outside of Vitour, and between that and my own schedule as a new guard, the time we got to spend with each other was limited. But we seemed to make the most of it, often staying up late talking hours into the night. We spoke of our dreams and our hopes. I found that whenever I would share my vision for a perfect future, Marigold’s version was damn near the same. I told her almost everything, only leaving out my involvement with the resistance and my hatred of the king. Not for her lack of trying. She would often ask if I thought King Dolian was fair, if I thought he was a good ruler, and I always steered the conversation towards other topics, some part of me trying to preserve this beautiful thing, protect it from being tainted with his presence.” He leans his elbows on his knees, head hanging between his shoulders. “Or maybe some subconscious part of me knew that something wasn’t right.”

Magic dances along my spine, and I open my mouth to tell him that he didn’t have to continue. That whatever this part of the story is, he doesn’t have to share it if he doesn’t want to. But Xander, like me, had a lifetime of being controlled. Manipulated. I won’t silence his voice just because I am nervous about what he is going to say.

“Marigold had no reservations when it came to the two of us being together, but I always stopped us at the last minute. I knew how important it was to be intimate for the first time, and I wanted her to be absolutely sure. So more months passed, and I fell deeper and deeper until, finally, it felt like the right time. I spent every coin I owned splurging on the finest inn at the heart of Vitour, had it decorated in flowers and little mementos of things that she said were her favorites.” Xander’s heartbeat quickens, his fingers interlacing where they hang between his knees. “She was supposed to meet me at sunset, and so all of this emotion rushed through me when I heard the handle of the door turn. Then I saw her standing there, and for one brilliant second, she was everything I thought I might ever need in my life. But then I took a better look at her face and her expression. It was one I’d never seen her wear before. She looked giddy and cruel, taunting as she stepped into the room and revealed who waited in the hall.”

My heart sinks as Xander’s massive body curls in on itself.

“The king strode in and the two of them stared at me where I was waiting for her. My instincts warred with each other, one half of me dying to get her away from him and the other more rational part of my mind screaming that something here was very wrong. Thank the gods the latter won out. I didn’t move, didn’t say a thing as Marigold revealed she was working for the king. That everything, the entirety of our relationship, had been nothing but a ruse. She pretended to be everything I wanted as a test from the king, to see if I might break and spill my secrets or speak of treachery. Anything that he could use against me. And she’d done so willingly.”

“I don’t understand,” I say quietly, fighting the urge to reach for his hand. “Surely, the king does not test every single guard in this way, especially when you all have blood oaths you must take to prevent harm from coming to him. Why does he single you out?”

Xander finally drags his gaze up from the floor, looking at me from a place of pure devastation. “Because I’m not just a guard to him. I’m his son.”

I jerk my head back, sure I misheard him. “What?” But even as the question slips from me, I remember Alden’s final words as I snuck up behind him in the tunnel. He had called him Xander Maxwell.

Xander sighs as he leans his hands back on the bed behind him, like he’s resigned to whatever reaction will come from this revelation. “King Dolian is my father. He forced my mother to have a physical relationship with him, and when she learned she was pregnant with me, she knew he would not allow a bastard son to live. So she ran, moving us from city to city to stay undetected. But our luck ran out, and eventually, the king figured out where we were. You know some of the story, and the rest… Well, I do not wish to relive it, but he has been testing my loyalty since the moment I stepped onto the castle grounds for the very first time at nine years old.” He turns his head, glassy eyes shadowed with regret staring down at me.

If I thought I knew the king’s depravity, I was wrong. Apparently, even monstrous creatures had the capacity to be even more terrifying. How many lives has King Dolian ruined? How many more would he claim before he is stopped? I don’t have the answers to those questions, and I’m not sure the man sitting at my side does either, but I understand now, more than ever before, why Xander has lived this way. Why he has fashioned a wall around himself and lives by a code of rules. It isn’t just to hide what Xander does from the king and his sympathizers. It’s survival.

“I am avoiding you,” he rasps, drinking in my features as his fingers dig into the comforter, “because even if my heart is telling me that you’re different, that you are worth every single risk that might befall me, my mind warns me of the dangers that come from believing anyone might see me for me. Even if kissing you was the first real thing I have felt in godsdamn years.”