chapter ten

I have no idea what possessed me to come to his door. Or why he would agree to meet me. Why I chose him over Logan or even Greece, even if I disregard the comment as soon as it flashes through my head. All I know is I’m at his door, waiting for his guard to tell him about my wishes.

“Her Royal Majesty wishes to have a talk with you, General Abernarthy.” The title is still odd sounding, new, and I always wince when someone else says it. I doubt I’ll ever get used to it.

The door is ajar, through which I can see how amused the guard seems and hear how Odin shuffles behind it.

He bristles, heavy steps on the floor. “Right now?”

The bulky guard smiles uncomfortably, craning his head over his shoulder to look at me. “Well, guessing she’s right behind me, I’d say so, sir.”

I have to laugh at myself. I don’t necessarily regret being here. I’m searching for something. What, I don’t know. Validation? Redemption? Understanding? Maybe I just want to be heard.

“Let her in.”

His chambers are on the opposite side of the castle. Still for the noblemen, but I seldom come here. Only when Greece hates to get out of bed, or when Lucas and I ran through these hallways when we were little. It’s been years since I stepped a foot inside, and whatever I was hoping to see is totally different from what my eyes witness.

The room is bare. Empty. New. No trace of anyone living here, save for the rumpled sheets and the cups upon the oak table beside the fireplace. The carpet in my room decided it wasn’t fit for a general, because white marble floors reflect the daylight coming through the only window.

Odin stands by the closet as I shove the guard aside, pushing the door wide open. His back is to me, buttoning a white shirt. My brain buzzes. Shirtless. He wanders around in his room shirtless. Such mundane knowledge baffles me, sets my cheeks on fire. He wears black pants and polished black shoes, as though he’s about to go to a wedding.

To the guard lingering behind me, I say, “Leave us.” Odin doesn’t turn around, never noticing the flush I feel spreading over my cheeks. “You have somewhere to be?” I take a few steps inside, carefully eyeing him.

He shakes his head, sighing low and slow, before turning around to face me. “No, but when the queen requests your presence, you can’t really be in trousers, can you?”

He smirks. I gulp.

Men will be men.

I clear my throat. He hums as if he can somehow read my

thoughts. “Don’t worry, this isn’t any official meeting, I just want to talk.” And it’s true. I mean no harm. “I must apologize, of course, for coming unannounced. I just couldn’t really... wait.”

I trace my fingers along the edge of the silk duvet, smiling softly. Even now, his presence has calmed me like Greece’s failed to. “Don’t apologize, my queen.” There’s no jab or disdain from his voice, a simple lighthearted mocking tone. “Am I being fired?”

Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but smirk back. “You wish. You signed papers with the former king, and I expect I have your support.”

No hesitation. “You do.”

“Good.”

The dress I’m wearing is odd. I shouldn’t be wearing it so proudly. If I were to follow the rules, I should still be in mourning. But the black dress and grim faces everyone pulls whenever they’re reminded of my parents make me feel pathetic. I changed my wardrobe in hopes of feeling more... queen-like. The dress I wear instead is blue, electric. Just like my eyes. For once, it is a miracle I don’t feel bare anymore. Even as I looked at my face in the mirror this morning, I could tell it was a good day. Not inside. My insides still shake and bend, trying to understand and digest the newinformation and titles. Duties I don’t comprehend. But to look powerful is to be powerful. I silently bask in the knowledge I look nice.

My suspicions are confirmed with Odin’s lingering eyes. “I’d rather take and use the time you have under my servicepurposefully. Getting to know each other.”

With effort, I take a seat at the small table attached to the empty wall, watching Odin as he crosses the room to me in three long strides. Raising his eyebrow, he smiles. “Is that so?”

I nod. “So how’s it going? You leading your troops for good?”

He huffs, his broad chest rising and falling with the movement. “I guess so.” Stopping for a while he surveys the room, eyes falling on mine a few seconds later. “We’re winning, if it’s what you’re asking. Suddenly, keeping the war at bay is so much more important. To keep you safe.”

“That’s what my aunt says, though, right?”

His shoulders move up and down in a shrug. “It doesn’t mean she’s wrong.”

“So I hear.”

He dips his head, green eyes flashing with the sun. “Why are you here? Small talk? I’m kind of terrified, I won’t lie. It’s not every day you get a queen to your chambers, if you know what I mean.”

I laugh darkly. “Well, it’s not every day I come to close strangers for advice. It’s awkward.” I busy myself with my hands, twirling my wrist to distract myself from looking at him.

Lowering himself in the chair beside me, he crosses his arms. The wooden chair squeals under his crushing weight. “A queen seeking advice from me?”

I shrug, hating myself for coming here in the first place. “You were good and logical at the council. It’s not really for advice I just...” My mind rambles on, and I try to know what I’m going to say before the words are out of my mouth and I’m babbling. I don’t want to make a fool of myself. “The court life is hard, and after the council meeting, I don’t know who to trust. I just want to be heard. Talk for a while to get my mind off things.”

A muscle works in his set jaw. “I never got to say I’m sorry.” His gaze focuses with laser attention on the table, avoiding my eyes. It’s hard to be all smiles one second and look confused the next. I do that, and he replies in kind, only with a more serious tone on his voice. “My condolences.”

Oh, that.

“Thank you, I guess.” I take a deep breath, taking my time to make the words leave my lips. “You know, it’s so surreal. Having you and everyone else address me as queen.” At my comment, his eyes perk up, focused on me. I don’t feel as uncomfortable as I thought, the words come out almost naturally, so I continue. “I always knew I’d be the queen someday. Every time we spoke dad never failed to mention it, always teaching me small lessons so I could use them in the court. At first, when I was younger, I thought it was a nice thing. Power.” I roll my eyes at the word. “It wasn’t until I turned twelve when it really hit me. I didn’t want this. It was too much. But I can’t run away from this, too.”

He tips his head. “I didn’t take you as the runner kind. You don’t run away from small things, Alexandra. It’s in your demeanor. If I were you—and don’t take this the wrong way—I’d run from the crown, too. Who can really blame you?”

In fact, everyone can. Everyone is.

“The councilmen seem to think this is my fault. Like I actually wanted this.” I chuckle, but it comes out hollow, wrong. “Lucas was always thrilled with the idea of his younger sister being queen. He made me promise him I’d get him a car and a horse as soon as I took the crown when he was eight. Seems like he’s forgotten now.”

He nods sharply, smiling to himself. “He is a little bit too immature for my liking.” When

I frown, he raises his hands in mock surrender, chuckling to himself. “Kidding. I’m kidding.”

I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “You’re not very mature yourself,” I shoot back.

He clucks his tongue, balancing my reaction before saying, “I like to make jokes around the people I find stunning.”

That makes me laugh, a belly laugh taking even me by surprise. When the laughter dies, I focus my eyes on him, tipping my head. “Are you serious? Is that your best pick-up line?”

Vivid, green eyes twinkle with mischief. “What? It’s not good enough?” he asks, placing a hand to his heart in fake hurt.

I can only roll my eyes. “You’re a general and you can’t flirt?”

“And you’re telling me you don’t flirt?” he retorts. “Even if it’s just for fun? You’re a queen.”

It sobers me up, cutting through me with such ease, for a moment I don’t remember where I am. Logan. I should be with him rather than Odin. Why am I not?

My brain tries to scramble for a reason, even if I know I won’t find an honest one to satisfy the guilt I feel. The reason I’m looking for is nonexistent. Of course, Odin knows what this life means.

Power, monarchs, nobility. He’s a noble himself. The same can’t be said for Logan.

I tell myself that’s why. Because I want to keep Logan safe for as long as I can. But I know I’m lying. I gulp down my guilt.

“Did I hit a nerve?” His voice carries smooth and steady, calm and collected. I break my thoughts, shaking my head to dissipate the fog.

I clear my throat, gulping in air before answering. “I... I do. Flirt, I mean. Not now, no offense, I kind of, um, have... something... with... someone.” This is the first time I admit it to anyone else besides father. But father knew, father used it for his advantage. Odin won’t. There’s some kindness I can feel radiating off him, the same one father lacked. I stare down at my hands, bending my fingers to distract myself.

He nods, smiling lightly. “That isn’t a sin. Especially if he—or she, no discrimination here—helps you get through this life.”

“He,” I say. I know the meaning behind the sentence, but I don’t add anything else.

“How is that going? How is... he?”

He isn’t you, I want to say. He isn’t a noble, he’s not a foreign general with whom I could marry if I wanted to, no questions asked. He isn’t like me. I don’t say any of those things.

Instead, I take a breath, wrapping my arms around me. “His name is Logan. He is a treasury accountant. He came here when he was really little. His parents left Nalyn when the war became too much there. They weren’t... independent back then. We never thought they would be. But here we are.” Gray eyes flash in the back of my head. I add, “He’s... he’s nice.” I mentally grimace at my choice of adjectives.

The next words are tinted by a strong accent. “But he’s not like us.”

I scoff, hurt. “No.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” he says, huffing. His soft eyes find mine. He’s the one to look away. “What I mean is you won’t be able to marry him in normal circumstances, much less with the council trying to get rid of you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

He ignores my pessimism. “I’d rather not see you getting hurt anymore. You just lost two people... and I don’t want my queen to be a mess of emotions with the crown on her head.”

He’s right. And he’s wrong. “I’m not your queen.”

Bristling, he takes his time to answer. “Right, you’re not. But I’m here to fight for your country, and I want you to be safe and logical. Think with the mind and not your heart.”

His words sound similar to Heaven’s.

Kindness gets you killed.

I choose to ignore his attempt at giving me advice. It’s a lesson I know already. He was there when I saw my parents. He’d know. I use my head when I don’t trust my heart.

“Greece is from here. She’s my best friend. I keep both with me, so I don’t go insane.” He stares at me, intent. If he notices my desperate attempt to swerve the waves, he doesn’t show it. “But it seems like you’re here to make me do exactly the opposite.”

He spares me a sad smile. “I get that.”

“I’m done talking about me,” I tell him, ghosting my hand on his knee. “What about you? How are you settling?”

He laughs freely. “In a palace? I know barracks as well as I know my scars. This is luxurious.”

I lazily shrug. “It wears off with time, you wait and see.” “You’re always so optimistic.”

I wink at him. “I have my talents.”

His goofy demeanor shifts again before my eyes. His eyebrows furrow, his tone deepens. “Everything went well for the first couple of days. Your dad and I... We had the chance to make some strategies before he—Queen Heaven is now directing the whole thing, and you’d be too, but I doubt you want to be involved in this.”

Forcing an understanding smile, I nod. “I know nothing about the council, let alone the battlefield. I doubt you want me messing with your men.” I shiver at the thought of having to do with the deaths on the field. What Heaven said about Odin. I push those thoughts outside. “And, I want nothing to do with it,” I add.

“Understandable.” He takes a hand to his hair, combing it, the other one tapping on the wood. He thinks before he speaks, something I’ve noticed in him. “Anyway, the council meeting with you made me weary of it all. I don’t trust them, and neither should you.”

Crossing my arms, I can only smirk. He might be older than me, but these fake smiles and vain greetings aren’t common to him. I can smell a lie a thousand feet away. “I don’t.”

“Good,” he says. He rubs his hands together, his face relaxing. Fondness replaces the concern, his eyebrows shooting up. “Mom is thrilled about being here. She loves visiting foreign places. And dad’s—Well... he asks me about the new plans like a child waiting for candy. I never asked to take his place, he gave it up willingly even if he was young enough to carry on. My family is... complicated to say the least.”

Before I think it, the words are out. Harsh. Insensitive. Dumb. Numb. “At least you have a family.”

He winces, drawing his gaze from me to the door behind me, dodging my gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I rap my fingers on the wood for him, anything to concentrate on the motion rather than the pain of the memory. I change the topic. “What about marriage? Seven years older than me, you should have children by now.”

He shrugs. “Well, being on war and the risk of losing your life at any second drains whatever desire you have for friendship, let alone a relationship.” His face flickers with emotions, a book for me to read. Pain, nostalgia, defiance, determination. One after the other present in his features.

“I don’t know. You seem pretty good to me.”

Chuckling lightly, he tousles his hair again. Nerves. “I don’t know if it was a compliment, but I’ll take it as one.” I smile, feeling my cheeks burning. “And you? Why aren’t you married yet?” He nudges my shoulder playfully. I let him.

“I’m sure I’ll be. My aunt isn’t here to protect me, she’s here to make sure I end up in bed by the end of the spring, pregnant. Secure an heir and stuff. Dad and I spoke about that. He was... postponing it.” This time, I’m the one breaking eye contact. “I mean, I am too young and Logan and I...”

He doesn’t allow me to finish. “Makes sense.”

I huff. “I wish it didn’t.”

“So, Lennon was the jealous type then?”

I take my time answering the question, rejoicing in the memory of the father I knew, the man who would put everything and anything below her daughter. “He was, yes. Though he wanted me to marry too, to secure my place as monarch, he took things slow. Mom, she was waiting for my first period so she could start looking for suitors. Father was the one to hold her back.”

His words are wavering but unexpected. A warmth without warning. “You’ll be a good queen, too. With or without a husband.”

I dip my chin in gratitude. “I might, but if there’s something I know is men and women aren’t the same. Not here, in this life.” I try not to let my sourness peek through my voice. I fail miserably. “If I were a man, I’d have the whole realm secured, even if I never were to marry. Being a queen is different. I need an heir if I am to keep my head.”

He doesn’t say it as a judgment, just plain sympathy. “And you hate it.”

I feel my pulse quicken, my brain scrambling at miles per hour to say what I want to say.

To not give a damn about my words for once and for all. “Women are and can be equal to men. The decrees, selling them off like objects, it shouldn’t be. That’s why the council is so hostile towards me.” Mentally, I raise my middle finger at the council. Such a pain in the ass. “They know I’ll do whatever it takes to get to the day those decrees are forgotten. I could be a powerful ruler if they gave me the time to be one. For me to adapt without being pregnant and without them on my heels since I was younger. But it won’t happen. Because I’m a girl.” He nods, unassuming. I continue. “I hate it. Hate them gone. I don’t know what to do, who to confide in anymore. Who will give me the advice and poke me when I bend my spine? They were taken away from me by deceit and manipulation and I’ll get revenge.”

After the words, I feel lighter, as if I could float. My feet weigh less, and I can see my mind calming down as my heart resolves to a steady rhythm. To my eternal amusement, his eyes don’t betray judgment. Understanding floods from him to me in soft waves.

“You said something before,” he mutters, brows furrowed. He twiddles his thumbs.

“‘They’re always watching.’” I keep my face straight but my stomach drops. “What does that mean?”

You can trust him, Alex.

Can I? He’s proven himself to me in more ways than one. With my father, allowing me in the bloody hearing, the morning with their bodies, and my first council meeting. I tell myself to get rid of any hesitation. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust him.

Or knowing I have no one left to trust fills me up with dread.

“I—I don’t... it’s stupid.” How could I even begin to explain the two former kings were assassinated by the council without sounding like a total nut-job?

He shifts forward, taking my hand from across the table. The sudden touch makes me jump, his warm hand in sharp comparison to my cold fingers. However, the warmth soothes, and it calms me. I don’t want him to let go. He doesn’t draw back.

“You know you can trust me, right?” I want to believe it. I really want to. His next words make me do just that. “Nothing you say will be heard by anyone else. It’s all here, between us. It’s my duty to protect you, Alex.”

Duty. I could allow myself to feel hurt, or even a tiny bit offended by the word. I chase the thought away.

I force air down my lungs, praying he doesn’t call a doctor once he hears my conjectures.

“The decrees were placed by Rodrick, my grandfather.” I shudder, my breath becoming ragged. “Before mom died, she and I spoke about it. She never said the words, but she let me see clearly enough. Before he died, Rodrick was close to dropping the decrees. And father, well, I was foolish and took the entire council against the rules they’d given my father and I... I’m the reason why they’re both gone.”

My body’s aware of how he begins tracing small circles on my wrist, holding my gaze.

This is the closest I’ve felt to someone since father left. I will this moment to last longer. My adrenaline floods my veins. Softly, he says, “It wasn’t your fault.” The same words he

whispered to me back in my parents’ chambers. A whole new sensation.

I bow my head, blinking away the hot tears formed in my eyes. I hate crying, but I do it often. “How can you believe that?” Disbelief tints my voice.

His thumb stops above my wrist. I hold my breath. “Because I know you. If you would’ve known you would’ve never done it. You’re kind, Alexandra.”

I bite my lip. “So, you believe me then?”

He taps on my wrist, drawing my gaze up. “After facing the nasty council with you, I do. And I’m terribly sorry about it. For as long as I’m here you don’t have to be afraid.”

Little comfort is in his words. He’ll leave soon. A sad smile twists my lips. “You’ll be here for two months,” I remind him.

He smiles openly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Air leaves my lungs like a punctuated balloon. “Okay.”

“Tell me more about Greece,” he prods, clearly eager to change the topic once again. I nod.

“Her father is noble. When dad sat on the throne, he changed most of the noble houses, to people who had served him and his father. Greece’s father was one of those. While growing up I was lonely. The older child with mother and father always away, left with nannies. She was the only one to play around for the first years. Eventually, it grew to a strong friendship. Logan became part of our circle as well, and that’s the way it has been since I can remember.”

“Sounds like a children’s book.”

I huff, ignoring his sarcasm. “What about you?”

To my dismay, he draws back, taking his warmth with him. I shouldn’t want his warmth. I have Logan’s. But the knowledge does nothing to get rid of my sick desire.

He bends forward, elbows on his knees. “I had a few friends here and there. In the training and the barracks. None of them permanent, though. For obvious reasons.”

I force the words out, spilling from my lips. “What about girls?”

He raises his eyebrows at my question but doesn’t offer a snappy remark. “Sure, in the court, women are stunning. But for me, the character speaks more than beauty. So no, I haven’t been messing around with ladies.”

I blink at him. “Meaning you’re a... virgin?”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flush. “Is that surprising?”

The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I laugh awkwardly at my

question. “No. No, I mean—” I giggle, placing my hand to my mouth. “No, I—Excuse me for my manners.”

He chuckles too, his green eyes twinkling. “Apology accepted.” He leans back in his chair, wiggling his eyebrows. “Now, if I do have manners myself, am I allowed to ask the same question?”

My eyes widen. “If I’m pure?”

His right side of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “Nothing wrong if you’re not. You’re allowed to have fun.”

By that point, I’m pretty sure I’m blushing furiously. I fight with all my might not to break into another laughing fist. “I’ve done... things. But no... sex.”

It’s his turn to giggle. His laughter booms across the room, his chest rising and falling. I sit there, watching him, hand over my mouth, perplexed. When he’s done, I ask, “What’s so funny?”

He shrugs. “Your face.”

He sets us laughing again.

When we’re done crackling and I can breathe through my nose again, I blink at him, his plain expression offering no indication he was laughing at a queen two seconds ago.

“You should laugh more often,” he says, stretching his arms behind his head.

“Oh,” I shoot back. “Don’t remember asking for the advice but thank you for it anyway.”

Shaking his head, he smirks. “Smiling looks good on you.”

“There we go again with the lame pick-up lines, Abernarthy,” I tease, quirking my eyebrow. My faint smile breaks replaced by a sudden tug in my chest. I clench at my neck, as if I can somehow stop the pain from rising. “I don’t laugh often anymore. Since I— since father and mother are... gone.” The word is still foreign to my mouth, odd sounding, and as I speak it into existence, I realize how true it is.

I’ll never see them again. Never hear their voice or look into their eyes. I won’t hug them ever again.

The realization knocks the wind off my windpipe. “They are really gone.” My voice is a thread, thin and invisible, threatening to snap.

I do instead.

As though the laughter broke the dam holding my feelings and the desolation I felt at bay, I start crying. Hot, fat tears burning my face and splashing the makeup perfected through hours. I couldn’t care less. I’m finally mourning for something I tried not to think of as lost, gone.

I’m not empty anymore.

I’m aware as I stand up, pushing the chair aside in frustration, desperate to cover my face. Shame and guilt eat at my insides, but they do nothing to overpower the sorrow I feel growing like a river’s tide in my heart. The chair topples, and I turn around, bowing my head and hiding my face in my hands.

I don’t say anything; sobs are my only form of communicating.

This is it, Odin. What you think is stunning. A broken, lonely, naïve girl turned queen. Is this what you thought?

Strong arms wrap around me, turning me around before I’m engulfed into his chest. For a moment I can’t breathe, feeling underwater and suffocated by his strong, earthy smell and his warmth. His hands trace my back, his chin resting on my head, and he doesn’t speak. I stain his shirt with mascara. For some reason, I doubt he’ll mind at all.

I cry. I cry like I’ve never done in front of Logan or Greece. Like I hadn’t done since I was little.

Why did they leave me? How am I supposed to move on from losing the only two people I knew?

Fear, regret, sorrow, decay, and nostalgia all pull me in different directions. I cry for every one of them.

When I pull away, my breathing coming in uneven puffs, his eyes remain closed for some instants, like he’s afraid to look at me. I understand why. A queen breaking should be something no one witnesses. Yet, I’m sure mother and father broke down before each other thousands of times. Their love was strong. Naked, bare, and no one judged.

“I’m sorry.” Hoarseness rips my throat, my tongue sandpaper.

He shakes his head slowly, opening his eyes in slits. His are cloudy, away. Pained. Pity for the queen. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” His voice has the power to rip the thin calm, making me succumb to tears again. I swallow as tears stream down my face. He continues. “When you show your emotions, it means you’re alive. It means you love.”

Warmth floods every cell. “I loved them,” I choke through sobs.

He places a hand on my arm, squeezing softly. “And they love you too.”

I blink back even more tears, pulling away from his touch. I can’t keep behaving like a child in front of him. “I can’t leave here like this. They’ll think we—”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Nodding, he paces across the room to the bathroom. Goes inside for a minute, returning with a damp cloth. “Here.”

I nod, thanking him quietly, before I walk to his closet, staring at myself in the mirror attached to the oak wall.

I look young. Scarily so. Black lines trail my face, and my paleness could mean I’m sick. I have an eerie and distant look in my eyes and my lip trembles against my will.

Sweeping the cloth all over my face, I get rid of the smudges, the paint to conceal my paleness, and any exterior wall I had this morning to keep me safe. I talk just to fill up the silence, to assure myself this isn’t a dream.

My voice drones on, monotone. “The funeral was rushed. I wanted to have more time. But the council pushed, and Lucas and I didn’t get a say.” I dab, anything to keep myself occupied. “Half the bastards didn’t even show up.”

I find his eyes on my reflection. “It was quick, yes. But then again, probably better. To still your position against the council.”

I shrug. “Maybe.” My skin is cold, my fingers warm with the cloth. I focus on the circular motion on my cheek. “Maybe not. I will be put up front tomorrow. Like a fucking beauty pageant. I will tell them all I’m unharmed and ready to continue Lennon’s legacy. I hate it. I’m not a beauty queen and whatever Lennon did I want to undo. Those people have lost people, too. And I’m being a hypocrite.”

“You’re doing what you have to, to stay alive.” He sounds closer, footsteps echoing behind me. I no longer see him in the mirror.

He’s close enough to reach a hand and touch me if he wanted to. He does not.

“So what then? I’ll live afraid of what they’ll do to me, never changing anything to remain alive? I owe them better than this,” I growl.

My frustration doesn’t face him. He remains as steady as a river. “You’re no good dead,” he mutters.

“Neither am I alive.”

***

“You were in Odin’s chambers earlier?” His tone is subtle as he steals a glance my way, his heavy footsteps thundering behind his booming voice.

I shrug. Secretly, I’m glad he hasn’t brought up anything related to father. Or mother. Or anything at all. Odin is something I can focus on without much thought, and it doesn’t make me feel anything. Anything wrong, that is. Odin means safety. “I was. We were discussing... things.”

“Things?” he asks, never breaking his pace. A sly smile splits his features. “He loves talking about war, but you have little to no information about it. Is ‘discussing things’ a new slang for hooking up?”

I nudge his shoulder, rolling my eyes. “We’re friends. And he’ll be gone in two months, so there’s nothing you should worry about.” He retaliates with a shove of his own. “I’m not worrying. In fact, I kinda like the guy. He could make a good king.”

“Lucas,” I warn. “I’m not marrying him.”

He limits himself to raising his eyebrows. “Of course. You’re not.”

“Plus,” I say, tilting my head to look up at him, “we’re here so you introduce me to your betrothed, not for you to talk about my wedding.”

He never misses a step, walking briskly. “Which should be happening any time now. The

council needs an heir, and you need one too.”

I gesture to my stomach. “Well, it’s not like I’ll be fat and bursting by the time they put the crown on my head. If they can wait, let them wait.”

He smirks darkly. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” If the title hurts him, he doesn’t show it. My mind fills up with images of father, and I wince. So much for avoiding a ghost.

Chloesa’s family awaits in the throne room. New to Alemiss, they will remain here a couple of days, making sure everything is fit, planning for the wedding. We don’t know the specific date yet, but we have to find a balance between the mourning and the need we have for an alliance. To be honest, a party would be not only mentally healthy for us but for the kingdom, something to distract us from the news.

It’s exactly what they want though, right? To distract people and you from the other million or so dying by rape or starvation, cold winters and harsh conditions.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

Inside the air is cold, raising goosebumps all over my arms. The sun blasts through the skylights and the thrones are empty. Father’s is majestic. Velvet embedded with gold and silver. Mother opted for a simpler version of precious stones and black marble. I ignore the sight, biting my tongue. I have yet to sit on the throne. I’m not strong enough to remove mother’s.

To the side, half a dozen guards in a diamond formation, their colors strikingly different from the brown and red ones of Alemiss, stand. Vivid blue and fiery orange against the pale white of the marble floor. At my command, the guards part. They obey their soon-to-be queen now.

In the middle, a boy no older than eight, and a girl, fourteen or fifteen, stand. The boy’s eyes scan me, curiosity plain on his regal features. His height reaches my waist. The girl’s face doesn’t show curiosity. Instead, her cunning eyes betray mere dismissal. Her posture is stiff, chin raised high and hands behind her back. Sure of herself, a princess born in high cribs. A blue dress marking the colors of her country makes her pale, green eyes light up with the sun. “Queen Alexandra.” She sweeps in a low bow, never breaking my glance.

I smile at her. Her smile could easily be mistaken for a sneer.

The boy next to her smiles at me, crookedly. He misses a tooth. Gray eyes and the same pale complexion marking their blood. Chloesa’s auburn hair and her brother’s raven hair are the only difference between the siblings.

Behind them, three people stand. Between the two, a boy with wicked, infantile features, no older than Greece, grins at me. He has rocky blue eyes, similar to mine, but deeper.

Still, he looks like a teenager. Auburn hair and crooked teeth, he stands with arrogance and disdain, every bit of the heir to the throne he is. Flanking him, a tall bulk of skin looks on. He doesn’t bow, doesn’t smile. Gaze fixed upon a prey.

“King Welmiam. Queen Juliett.” The woman allows a secret smile, brown eyes sweeping from Lucas to me and back again. Her chiffon dress moves with her, blue as the sky, ripples of the rivers. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The heir speaks up. He’s at least two heads taller than Chloesa. “Your Majesty. We’re sorry about the current situation in the court. King Lennon and Queen Bliss were taken away from us too soon.”

I swallow the razors in my throat, nodding along. I address his parents again, focusing on Welmiam’s blue pebbles. “Indeed. However, there’s no greater distraction than an alliance. I’m so happy we get to keep stable monarchies by the union of my brother and your gorgeous daughter.” My eyes fall to her out of habit. Her perfect porcelain skin gleams in the sunlight. “Alemiss will go to any lengths to keep your country safe.” I smile through the pain, just like I always do.

I know they must be aware of Alemiss’ precarious position. We barely have the men to guard ourselves, let alone take care of another country. But they need the alliance as much as we do, even if it is as empty as dying words. They need our crops and metals. We need their support. It’s an even trade.

Finally, the broad man speaks. An older version of the heir. Blue eyes, arrogance present in every word. “Likewise, Your Royal Highness.” His voice is surprisingly high for a man who cuts such a startling figure. High and sweet. His exterior is just a façade. “We wish our visit could’ve been under better... circumstances.”

I laugh darkly. Don’t we all?

Lucas chuckles, squeezing my shoulder. His charm kicks into overdrive. “Nonsense, my king. What better circumstances than to have a beautiful bride plan our wedding? We need to get to know each other, Chloesa.” He speaks at ease, confident and chirpy. Like he didn’t just lose two parents. Like he didn’t just lose his sister to a queen. I admire him for that. Jealousy prickles in my stomach.

If Chloesa likes being the center of Lucas’ attention, she doesn’t show it. She doesn’t blush, doesn’t even steal a glance, keeping her gaze focused on me. I don’t mind, but I’m sure it’s a blow to my brother’s ego.

I bow my head, smiling. “Forgive my brother’s eagerness. He’s dreamed of this day since he was younger. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a council meeting in a short while.” The lie leaves my lips easier than it should. Chloesa meets my eyes for a second. I can tell right away she senses the lie. I don’t care. “We’ll make sure your chambers and guards are at the utmost. King Welmiam, Juliett.” I dip my chin in a sign of respect. Taking my brother’s hand, we leave the courtroom in silence, swiftly.

They’re not dumb. Even with our castle security, they’ve traveled in a parade down the Kleterc river with dozens of men to guard their shoulders. They know how deep a rebellion can go, spread its roots like a disease.

Lucas doesn’t speak until we’re well out of earshot. “What was that? There’s no council meeting. I wanted to get to know her.” He sounds like a whining child.

I scoff. “You wanted to get to know her when you haven’t said a word to me since Lennon and Bliss...” I trail off, blinking away. I can’t cry before him. I must remain strong, if only to provide a sense of normalcy for my younger brother. With a sharp breath, I regain control. “How are you?”

A weak smile appears on his lips, but his eyes remain a void. “How should I feel? I’m an orphan.”

“Lucas—”

He holds my gaze, nodding, matter-of-fact. “It’s the truth. And on top of that, I’m not just a prince anymore. I’m the heir to the throne now. Until you’re pregnant, anyway. And I can’t help but feel like I just lost you.”

I think I just lost me, too.

“I’m still here,” I say. My voice cracks at the last part, when we turn to the hallway leading to the gardens. “I’ll always be here.”

It takes all of me not to run in the opposite direction, away from this conversation. My skin tickles with embarrassment and a feeling I can’t quite explain.

His voice is dark, quiet, but it carries the strength of a raging sea. “But you’re not Alex anymore. My Alex. You’re the queen, too. My queen.”

I can barely stomach the thought. The words sound harsh for a queen. “Don’t address me as such.” It sounds like a command. He sees in my eyes it is really a plea.

“How do you feel?” he shoots back, ignoring my comment.

I chuckle lightly, stopping at a corner. He leans on the decorated wall, his tall frame decreasing a couple of inches. “How am I supposed to feel, Lucas? I doubt it even has an answer at all. I’m devastated. But I can’t say so. I’m scared. Can’t say that, either.”

He doesn’t mute. “You’ll be a good queen, Alexandra.”

If one more person repeats that.

“I don’t know if everyone else believes that or they just want to make me feel better.” Logan, Odin, Lucas. Mom, even. I can’t believe they think so when I can’t begin to stomach the fact I am a queen by name, if not by crown yet. “I’m supposed to give a speech tomorrow. About how father’s death didn’t affect us. But it did. They think it’s...” The rebels. But it’s not. And he can’t know. I recover quickly. “They think we’re not humans allowed to mourn, too.”

He flicks a hand in dismissal, dark lashes against his bronze skin. “You’re strong, you’ll get through this.” His voice never waivers, never leaves more to wish. He remains strong. For himself and for me both. The same strength father always showed.

Green eyes, just like father’s, look down at me. “And you?” I ask.

“I’ll keep pushing on.” The sentence makes me gasp. His gaze flickers, amusement crowding his face. “What?”

I clear my throat, shaking my head. The words replay in the back of my mind, even when

I’m asleep. “It’s something father said to me. Before he...”

Pain bleeds on his eyes just for a second. He clears his throat. But I see it in his eyes, the way his hand quivers next to his leg. He is hurt. The hurt he is not letting me see. “He was right, then.”

I step forward, touching his arm. A fleeting touch but a comfort all the same. I don’t know if the comfort is for him or for me. “Thank you.”

He raises his eyebrows, squeezing my hand in return. “What for?”

“Don’t be silly. I see right through you. You accepted the wedding to postpone mine. Thank you, Lucas.” His smile is brief, sweet, secret. Short-lived. “It means a lot.”

“I’d only do it for you,” he says.

We’re not allowed to say I love you anymore. We’re royals. I am queen. He’s the heir. We can’t make promises, hold vows, when our lives could be taken away as easily as they came. I hear the words all the same though, there on the tip of his tongue. I long for them, even knowing I won’t ever hear them from him. Actions have to be enough to show our love. Actions will have to do.

Because now, words all hold a different meaning.

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ooops i skipped a week but school has been hectic. this is one of my favorite chapters of ALL time. hope you enjoy + let me know if youd like to be tagged!

thank you for reading

-goldenmel