I would have stood at the edge of that desert until she walked back into my arms.
That is, if I weren’t the damn Enforcer of Ilya.
I pace atop the familiar path I’ve worn into the carpet. My desk sits to the right, patiently waiting to be relieved of the piled paperwork decorating its chipped wood. Guard rotations, training schedules, and safety precautions beg for my attention, but only one thing holds it—her.
I have thought of nothing else since watching Paedyn stride into that sinister stretch of sand. Hair glinting like a blade and legs swift like one who’s spent their whole life running, the Silver Savior began her first Trial. And I stood there, watching her form slowly shrink into the horizon.
It was Kitt’s insistence that had me reluctantly returning to the castle. He needed me to “be the Enforcer, even when she is not around.” The words had stunned me for a moment, had me glimpsing that suspicion Pae spoke of. Perhaps the king really does know how tragically in love I am with his betrothed. Perhaps he is as well.
We haven’t spoken since our journey back to the castle—him returning quietly to his study, and me to the training yard. Only after hours of shouted corrections and tedious demonstrations, I find myself pacing the weathered carpet blanketing my bedchamber. She has less than three hours to walk into the throne room with that crown in hand. And some selfish part of me hopes that she won’t.
As if that were a solution.
“If I don’t marry her, I have no choice but to kill her.”
Kitt’s words haunt my thoughts, dash my hopes. Because if Paedyn fails any of these Trials, her fate will be worse than marriage. It will be death.
As much as I want her to be mine, I want her to be Death’s far less.
I rake a hand through my hair, feet still treading their familiar path across the carpet. I’ve never felt so completely useless. Every fiber of my being begs to find hers, despite duty trapping me within these castle walls. Though, it’s comforting to know that she doesn’t need my help—the Silver Savior has made that abundantly clear since the day she earned the title.
And yet, one day I hope she does. Just to show her the extent of what I’m willing to do if only she asks.
Unable to pace my bedroom any longer, I throw open the door and stride out into the dim hallway. Imperials don’t hesitate to move out of my path, skittering servants doing the same. My steps quicken and faces blur as I pass. The plush carpet beneath my shoes is something I had never taken the time to notice until Adena—Paedyn’s other half—had brought it to my attention before that final Trial ball. And with each step toward the west tower, I focus on the feel of it to distract from my reeling thoughts.
My quick pace through the castle has each dark hall slipping swiftly past. I’m draped comfortably in shadows until a puddle of light laps at my shoes, rippling around my faltering steps. It pours from beneath a door that hasn’t been opened in years. At least, not by anyone other than Father.
I reach hesitantly for the handle, feeling suddenly like a disobeying child. I’ve spent my whole life avoiding this room due to the king’s orders. But he is not here anymore to punish me for my defiance.
The door creaks open on hinges unaccustomed to serving their purpose. A lamp spills dull light into the room, old enough to have the Volt power slowly flickering from it. I sweep my gaze over the preserved chamber, landing on a tarp-covered bed adorned with royalty. Kitt sits stiffly on the dusty sheet with a jewelry box clutched between inky fingers.
His tired gaze flicks to mine, only slightly surprised to see me standing uncomfortably in the doorway. “It’s weird, being in here, huh? After all those years of wondering what was behind that door.” Setting the wooden box aside, he stands with a pained laugh. “All that waiting, just for it to be a regular old bedroom.”
I feel oddly trapped beneath the doorframe. It seems wrong to step into a piece of a past that doesn’t belong to me. Iris Moyra was Kitt’s mother, not mine. And I alone have known just how desperately he wished to know her, even at a glimpse.
“Father shouldn’t have kept this from you,” I say quietly.
“Among other things. But he knew he could, because I would always come back to him.” His gaze grows distant. “Always obey.”
I slip my hands into the pockets at my sides. “So, what changed?”
He contemplates this for a moment. “Power. When you have nothing, you live only for those who promise you everything.”
“You lived for Father,” I reiterate.
“Now I live for legacy.” He smiles. “For us.”
I dip my head, offering the pale carpet my grin. “I can’t say it isn’t nice to serve a king that actually gives a shit about me.”
“You’re my little brother,” Kitt teases. “I’ve been forced to give a shit about you my whole life.”
I chuckle softly. “Sorry to be an inconvenience.”
He shrugs. “It was pretty annoying when you started being able to kick my ass.”
“Well, you should be used to it by now.”
“Easy, Brother.” Kitt’s boyish grin has returned to his face after far too long. “Let’s not start a brawl in the one room we haven’t yet.”
I let this moment soak in, relishing every laugh that passes between us. Alone with him, I don’t think of the future ahead, or the ring wrapped around Paedyn’s finger. And I’m grateful for that. Grateful to just be brothers.
“I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” I say after a long while of talking like we used to. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just saw the light under the door and figured I’d check it out.”
“Nothing special, huh?” Kitt muses.
My expression softens. “It is for you.”
He nods, thanking me for my understanding. I nod back.
The door screeches shut, leaving my brother alone with what is left of the mother he never knew.
It’s not long before I’m making my way up the spiral staircase of the west tower. I remember a time when a trip to the rickety turret felt hopeful. Now, my heart pounds faster with each step higher. The air grows cold and damp in a way I’ve now come to associate with the presence of Death.
I swore to never set foot in the infirmary again.
Though, I’ve been here several times since making that vow. And each time I stare blankly at the wooden door atop the stairs, allowing myself a split second of hesitation before pushing it open and stepping into the large room behind.
It looks exactly as it had the day Ava died.
Cots line the walls, though my gaze avoids one in particular. The room is just as plain and dreary as it had been all those years ago. Heading for the only occupied bed, I nod at the Healer who hurries past, more than happy to give us some privacy in exchange for a moment beyond this dreary tower.
I walk toward my mother slowly, taking in the dark circles below her eyes and the frail shoulders peeking above crisp covers. My throat tightens at the sight. She looks worse than when I last left her.
“My sweet boy.” Her tired eyes brighten when they land on me. “You’re home. I was so worried.”
A wave of guilt hits me in the gut like a blow. “I should have come to see you sooner.” I take a seat in the chair beside her. “These past few days have been… difficult.”
The look she gives cuts right through me. “I know that. But you can also admit how hard it is for you to be up here. See the cot she used to occupy.” Mother glances around the infirmary, gaze haunted. “I understand your pain.”
I duck my head. Of course she understands. It was her daughter she grieved.
“I thought I was broken after losing Ava,” she continues softly. “But it seems that the loss of your father will be the death of me.”
My teeth grind together at her words and every one I wish to say in return. I could never imagine Father deserving more of my grief than Ava. And when I look at my mother in this moment, I’m angry that she ever let her daughter be a secret—die a secret.
But I say none of this to the woman on her deathbed.
I study her pale face and distant gray eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Kai, it’s not long now,” she says simply.
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Bury me as close to him as possible.”
“Mother, please—”
“I want to reach out and grab his hand.”
At those whispered words, it’s I who grabs her hand, pulling it close to my chest. “You will be close to him. I promise.” Swallowing, I add, “But that won’t be for a long while.”
She shakes her head with a sad smile. “I’ll miss you, my pretty boy. Keep taking care of Kitt for me.” Her dark lashes flutter. “I regret not being there for him.”
“It’s not your fault,” I murmur. “Kitt has always been… stubborn when it comes to you.”
“Because I’m not really his mother.” A long pause. “I know.”
I squeeze her hand. “He loves you. I know he does.”
“In his own way, yes. He even came to visit me while you were gone on your mission.”
“He mentioned that,” I say softly.
“It was brief.” Her bottom lip trembles slightly. It’s a sight I never thought I’d see from a woman of such power and grace. “Kitt misses him dearly.”
“I know,” I whisper, because I do. I know exactly how much Father’s death affected my brother, even when he didn’t wish to show it. “Have you heard about what is happening in the kingdom?”
“Yes,” she says evenly. “Your father always was more occupied with the Ordinaries than the affairs of Ilya.”
I wait patiently for an elaboration worth the trouble Father left for Kitt. But she says nothing more on the matter, which is unsurprisingly disappointing. Queen Myla was nothing if not loyal and loving toward her husband, though she has told the occasional story of the days in which she once despised her king. These moments of reminiscence were only prompted by several cups of wine and told with hazy memory. But even now, Mother refuses to speak ill of the man she loved.
It’s stubbornly admirable.
“And Paedyn?” I ask slowly. “You know of his engagement to the Ordinary?”
“The Ordinary,” she muses, gaze sharp. “That is not all she is. Especially to you.”
I drop her hand, securing a mask of indifference onto my face despite the quickening beat of my heart. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but—”
“Oh, don’t go denying it, Kai.” Her laugh morphs into a harsh cough. I reach for the glass of water atop the bedside table. Pressing it to her cracked lips, she swallows greedily before managing, “I knew from that first dinner—the one with all the Purging Trial contestants—that there was something between you two.”
I blow out a breath. “Mother—”
“And then she went and killed your father, and things got complicated.”
She says this so bluntly that I nearly laugh. After another dry cough, she adds, “Though, that might not have been enough for you to hate her. I know how you felt about him.”
“He never really was much of a father to me,” I state. “So, no, I can’t say I was terribly grieved by his death.”
The words are harsh and laced with an anger I rarely let myself feel for him anymore. But it is his wife I spit them at. And for that reason, I open my mouth to apologize.
Instead, her hand grips mine, gaze pleading. “I’m sorry for what he did to you. And I’m sorry that I never stopped him.” Tears brim beneath the gray eyes we share. “I just wanted you to be strong. And look at you—you’re formidable. But that is no excuse. I shouldn’t have stayed quiet about your training sessions with him—”
“Shh.” I cut off her words with the single sound. “It’s okay. You made me strong.” A tear rolls down her cheek, and I wipe it away with a knuckle. “You made me strong,” I whisper again.
Equal parts sob and laughter slip past her lips. “Not strong enough to stay away from her, it seems.”
I shake my head, smiling slightly. “No, not strong enough to stay away from her.”
“Kai,” she murmurs, suddenly serious. “She is your brother’s.”
I look away. “I know.”
“Don’t let her come between the two of you.” Her tone is stern. “Promise me, Kai.”
A shake of my head. “It’s a little late to be making that promise, Mother.”
“Then make me a different one.” She struggles to lift her head from the pillow, words strong in a way her body is not. “Don’t let her be your weakness.”
Some time later, when I eventually stand to leave the infirmary, she reminds me of that promise I have yet to make.
In return, I remind her that Paedyn Gray has been my weakness since that very first dinner before the Purging Trials.
