Page 41 of Lost Heir
“I leave him in your care,” Silas said as he handed Henry off to us. “He’s been such a good little spymaster; I hope hecan stop for a bit and enjoy his time in Valoria.” Silas ruffled Henry’s hair as he smiled at the boy. It seemed they had grown close over the last few weeks.
“We’ll take good care of him,” Ronan reassured Silas. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”
Silas turned to me with a voice tinged in regret. “Your Highness, I wish we’d had more time to get to know one another. But I trust you will watch over my brother while he’s on your lands.”
His words elicited a sincere promise from me. “Of course,” I said. “I won’t let anything happen to him.”
Ronan rolled his eyes and patted Silas on the shoulder. “Go on now, before my father leaves you behind.”
We watched Silas mount his horse and ride through the palace gates, a lone figure that gradually disappeared into the distance. The sight, though simple, marked the close of one chapter and the tentative beginning of another, leaving us to navigate the complexities of the days to come in the quiet aftermath of celebration.
After Silas vanished, I lowered to one knee, aiming to meet Henry at his level and create a space where he might feel more at ease to express his wishes. “Alright, Henry, what's on your mind? Hungry for something special? Whatever you desire, consider it yours,” I offered, my smile aimed to coax him into sharing his thoughts without reservation.
The boy's hesitation was palpable. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as he wrestled with his request. “Well …” he started, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ronan, ever the encourager, chimed in with a playful tone. “Ah, come on, Henry! You weren't this shy back in the Crimson Clan camp. You boldly requested a feast back then!” he reminded him, tousling the boy's hair affectionately.
Henry's response came with a roll of his eyes, a gesture that carried a weight of consideration. “Yes, but this is Miss Leila. I can't just ask her—”
“Of course you can,” I cut in, eager to assure him of his place here. “You can ask me for anything, Henry.”
In a move that warmed my heart, Henry embraced me, his small arms encircling my neck. “Can I be your spymaster?” he ventured, the question hanging between us like a vow. “I promise to be loyal only to you, Miss Leila.”
Ronan and I couldn't contain our laughter at his earnest request. “Henry,” I replied, drawing him closer for a hug, “is that really all you wish for? Not a grand feast or to dive into a bathtub filled with gold coins? Because I can make both of those things happen,” I added, joining in the lighthearted jest.
His reply came with a playful snort. “Of course, I expect payment,” he stated, “but I don't want handouts. I wish to earn my keep, Miss Leila.”
I looked deeply into Henry's eyes, now clear of the shadows of sadness that once lingered there. “Alright, then.” I rose to my feet and extended my hand in a gesture of agreement. “If becoming a spymaster is your ambition, then so be it. But know it won't be an easy path,” I warned, half-hoping to sway his resolve.
Henry's handshake was firm, his determination unwavering. “I don't expect it to be easy, Miss Leila. I promise to serve you for the rest of my life.”
The notion of 'service' weighed heavily on me. The last thing I wanted was for Henry to view his life as one of obligatory servitude. I yearned for him to experience the freedom and joy of childhood, a gift I wanted to offer freely. Yet, his insistence on earning his place and not accepting charity was a stance I had to respect—at least for now. In the backof my mind, I acknowledged that this arrangement would require re-evaluation in the future.
Freedom, not lifelong obligation, was what I truly wished for Henry.
After ensuringHenry was comfortably situated in his new quarters within the Eastern palace, I accompanied Ronan to his temporary residence in the Northern palace—a decision graciously approved by my father. Our path through the palace grounds was shrouded in the cool, enveloping cloak of evening, our hands nearly touching, nearly intertwining, yet refraining—a silent concession to the eyes that might be upon us.
“Ronan,” I breathed, a whisper meant only for him, even as we paced a discreet distance ahead of my ever-watchful guards, Viktor and Tessa. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he responded, his gaze fixed ahead, a testament to the gravity of the moment.
My gaze drifted to his hand, carefully tended and bandaged by the palace's healer, a visible sign of the tumultuous events that had transpired. The urge to comfort, to connect, was palpable, yet restrained by circumstance. “I feel somewhat foolish for this,” I admitted softly, “but I need to understand … what exactly isthis… between us?”
Ronan's stride halted abruptly and he turned, the intensity of his gaze piercing the twilight. “If clarity is what you seek, then let it be clear. You are mine and mine alone, Leila. I cannot, and will not, entertain the thought of you with Caelan—or anyone else, for that matter. If marriage is not your desire, I accept that. But should you choose it, know that it must be with me. Because just like you’remine, I’m yours, Leila. And I don’t want anyone else but you.”
His declaration, fervent and unwavering, left me momentarily speechless. My heart raced at the sincerity and depth of his commitment. “Eventually you’ll have to return to the Grasslands. You can’t stay with me in Valoria forever,” I countered, the practicalities of our situation weaving a complex web of uncertainty. “What will we do if—”
Ronan closed the distance between us, a gesture both tender and bold. “Let that be my concern,” he assured me, gently tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “But know this—I have no intention of leaving your side.”
A mix of frustration and affection bubbled up at the evidence of my own vulnerability. “I feel stupid. I don’t know why I’m worried.”
“It's only natural to feel this way, Leila. The odds are stacked against us in so many ways. But as long as you don’t give up, neither will I,” he soothed, his touch a balm against the chill of the night, his fingers tracing the contours of my face with a care that spoke volumes. “We can make this work … I promise. Do you trust me?”
Locking gazes with the Crimson Clan warrior who’d stolen my heart, I realized I stood at the crossroads of emotion and reason. Trust … that fragile, intangible thread had frayed under the weight of unspoken prophecies and past actions. My heart yearned to leap and affirm my unwavering faith in him, yet the shadow of doubt cast long by the events woven around the prophecy that entwined our fates, held me back.
“Yes.” I finally allowed the word to escape, a whisper of hope amidst the storm of my hesitations. “I do.”
Ronan's acknowledgment was a mirror to my inner turmoil. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Leila. I haven’talways made the wisest decisions when it comes to us. For that, I’m eternally sorry and will spend the rest of my life making up for it,” he professed, the sincerity in his voice attempting to bridge the chasm my reservations had created.
