Page 113 of Heartbreak Prince

“A terrible way to live,” I say.

“Hm?” Vawn turns toward me.

“These people. Imagine existing with the constant fear of the earth swallowing you up. We have to help them.”

“I’m trying, Syth. I must be careful, because if I offend the Lieges, they will sweep the whole deal off the table, sell me to the Exemplar, and make their treaty with him instead.”

Cold dread seizes my stomach. That possibility hadn’t entered my mind. “You really think they would do that?”

“Out of spite, if I reject them? Yes.”

“Shit.”

“Indeed.” He leans forward, shading his eyes. “Someone’s coming. And they’re on horseback.”

I snap into bodyguard mode immediately. “Back inside, quickly. Let the Tularesk guards figure out who it is and whether or not they should be allowed admittance.”

I take him back to the room where they’ve been working on the deal—the same clock-filled space where we had dinner the previous night. Once Vawn is seated, I stand behind him, watching both of the doors.

Moments later, the Twin Lieges return in the company of a man that both Vawn and I immediately recognize—Heim Cordall, the resident painter from Anyssir Castle, the one who created the portraits of Vawn’s family.

“I bring news, your Highness.” His dark eyebrows are white with frost, and tears glitter in his eyes.

Reaching around the back of Vawn’s chair, I clasp his shoulder.

“Tell me the Lord and Lady are alive.” Vawn’s voice is thick and hoarse.

“I wish I could, my prince. I wish I could.”

“Where?” Vawn rasps. “And how?”

“Anyssir Castle was attacked after you left. I was on my way back home from a commission, and I saw the end of the conflict. I followed from a distance as the Redeemers took Lord Kaenan and his castle guards to the western border gate. The Redeemers executed all of them, along with the border guards at that gate who were loyal to the Crown.” His voice cracks and he pauses, closing his eyes. “The Redeemers hung the dead along the wall, facing the Tularesk border.”

Liege Roxalin gasps, covering her mouth with her ragged white nails. “How awful.”

“What of the Lady Kaenan?” Vawn asks.

“She was not hung with them. Whether she died, escaped, or was taken prisoner—I do not know. I went to another border gate and used my artist’s license to get through. I had to tell you… I thought you would want to know.”

Vawn is ominously quiet for a long moment, and then he gets up, bracing both palms on the table. “Thank you for coming so far, Cordall, and for riding across such perilous terrain. I am sure these kind rulers will provide you with safe harbor. My Lieges, if you would excuse me for a short time while I compose myself. I will return shortly to continue our conversation.”

“Of course,” murmurs Remin, and Roxalin flutters her hand to him and chirps, “Our condolences.”

Vawn heads for his room, and I follow him in silence. After closing the door, he remains with one hand braced against it, his head hung and his shoulders bowed. “You must understand, more than ever, why I have to do this.”

No.

I don’t know what to say. How to respond. Where to put my hands. I can’t flee this problem, or stab it to death. I can’t activate a glyph for it.

“Forsythia.” The prince’s voice is infinitely gentle, absent of all the charming humor and wicked seduction that it usually holds. “They killed Lord Kaenan and the guards who helped us escape. Hung them on the wall as a warning, to frighten me. It must not go unanswered. And if they took Lady Kaenan captive, I must get her back. If she is dead, I need to bury her. She was more a mother to me than the woman who birthed me.”

Still, I say nothing.

“I’m out of time and options,” he says. “I will marry Remin and Roxalin here, in this palace. I will use their army to take back Belavrin. I will give the Red Mountains to the Tularesk people, and I will reign alongside the Twins. As long as I take care of them, they will let me rule as I wish. Maybe after all this is settled, I can separate myself from them. But for now, this is the only path I can see.”

I refuse to speak or to look at him, not while he carves the ground from beneath my feet and sends me crashing into darkness.

“Say something,” he grits out.