Page 184 of Fearless

Anguish rips me raw from the inside out.

“Please… don’t leave me…”

I am numb.

I am dead beside him but cursed to keep living.

Grief is my equal. Misery a mirror.

I call sorrow by its name and speak my own.

My head falls back with a roar of agony.

My brother.

My brother.

My brother.

And when Paedyn throws open the door, a Healer at her side, I am lifeless on the floor beside my brother.

Edric

Before meeting his fate at the hands of Paedyn Gray, the king warns his son of the threat she poses.

Scrutinizing him thoroughly, as he often does, Edric Azer sees the man who fell in love with Iris Moyra all those years ago. The similarities between the king and his heir are eerie, like looking into a warped mirror to see pieces of oneself fossilized on another’s face. Kitt stares warily at his father from his assigned seat before the fireplace while Edric reclines casually in his worn leather one, as if he hasn’t just metaphorically ripped the floor out from beneath his son’s feet.

“So, really,” Kitt ventures slowly, “you are the leader of the Resistance?”

Edric drums his fingers against the faded armrest. “Technically. Though, it is Calum who is the face of it.”

“And he is one of the Fatals you’ve hidden away?” Kitt confirms.

“Yes. Over the years, I’ve tried to keep their identities as hidden as possible. My Fatals are my most powerful weapons and spies. They are of no use to me if everyone knows who and what they are.” The kingmeets his son’s eyes, and again, that eerie feeling washes over him. It is as though he’s looking into his own gaze. “Kai still does not know the truth. But you, Kitt, are my heir. It is time you know these things. Know my plans so you may continue to fulfill them when I no longer can.”

Kitt straightens in his seat, a foreign sense of importance washing over him. He has, for better or worse, waited his entire life to prove himself to his king—his father. The boy has wanted for little more than to be needed by the man who has always withheld his affection. Though Edric’s relationship with Kai is strained, Kitt finds himself envious of even the begrudging approval his father feels for the Enforcer. It is pride—praise, even—that the heir finds himself craving. But his role is not one that displays tangible achievements, and this forces him to work even harder to prove himself.

Failure is the word Kitt most fears, and it will plague him still, even after the death of his father. He is not quite sure where the overwhelming need to please stems from, only that it seems to fester with each day the king shoves a book beneath his nose. Disappointment Kitt can bear, but indifference from the man meant to love him drives the boy mad. Nothing is ever good enough—not his studies, or etiquette, or practiced charisma. At least with Kai’s field of physicality, there is some measure of accomplishment. Some death to be doled out or command to fulfill.

A dark thought has always dwelled in the back of Kitt’s mind. Perhaps the death of his mother has tainted his relationship with the king. Even the prince hates himself for her death. When, in truth—one Kitt will never come to know—Edric cannot love something that is impotent. And unlike Kai, the heir is nearly useless until the king’s demise, and that does not sit particularly well with him. Though, if Edric were being honest with himself—he rarely is—he would admit how similar Kitt’s temperance is to Iris’s. This only makes things harder for the king and is perhaps what pushes him to mold the prince into something harsher.

But here, in this moment, the king needs something from his son. And even after all this time, Kitt will do anything to make him proud.

“You want me to show Paedyn the tunnels?”

Kitt says this with a skeptical kind of thrill. Stern, though equally bland, the king elaborates. “She will try to convince you to take her through them, like I said. You will do so, but not obviously. It should not be difficult for you to reminisce on how you have never strayed far from the castle walls.”

This is a sad truth, one that the heir will have no quandary speaking of. There will be no need to put on a facade for this intriguing girl, but rather, lower his walls and let the feelings spew from behind them. Though, that may prove to be more difficult.

“She wouldn’t,” Kitt urges. “You don’t know her like I do, Father. She won’t betray me to—”

“She is nothing!” The king’s hiss has his son wincing. “And those that are nothing will take everything from you. Remember that, Son.” He lifts a stiff finger between them. “Do not make the mistake of feeling for her.”

In this moment, Kitt does not believe his father to be right. He holds hope close to his heart, believing in the goodness he knows his mother would have wished him to.

Later still will he discover the naivety of hope.

Slowly, Kitt nods, ever obedient to his father’s wishes. “And why, exactly, am I doing this?”

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