Page 46 of The King's Queen

I inhale sharply. Rowan has never mentioned his father to me before. None of the Nightwalkers ever mentioned it, so I assumed I wasn’t supposed to ask.

“Then one day something happened. I was young. I don’t know what happened fully, but I remember this pull of dark magic and another woman with my father. I heard screams, laughter, then silence. I saw golden blood and felt my mother’s arms wrap around me and she ran. She didn’t take anything other than me, not that there was much to begin with, but we never saw him again. We lived in the shadows, and mother, who thrived in the light, began to waste away.” He swallows hard. “She’s nothing but a shell of who she used to be. My father stole that light from her.”

The wind blows the hair from his face, and I see him in a new light for once. A scared boy forced to grow up too soon in a world of kill or be killed. That carefully crafted anger and sarcasm honed to perfection is meant to defend the scared child within. I move his hand from my wrist to my hand and squeeze it lightly.

“Your mom loves you very much. I didn’t know her before all this, but that love keeps her going. Maybe you’re her new light.”And maybe mine,I add silently. Rowan’s mouth softens into a small smile, and he nudges me with his shoulder. A bit of lilting laughter then a comfortable silence.

Chapter17

Rowan

Vera’s shoulders loosen and fall as if some invisible tension has released its grip on her. The sight brings a small relief until she asks, “And what about you, Mister Mercenary? What about your wants and longings?”

“I don’t long for anything,” I correct her, not bothering to turn my face from where the brisk breeze scatters flecks of sea water across it. The tiny droplets are freezing and sting, but it’s a welcome distraction. “I simply don’t have the time. Things change, you either adapt or get left behind.” It sounds false even to my ears.

She seems to consider that for a moment, and her gaze perceivably shifts from the ocean to me. From my peripheral, I can see she looks hesitant and curious, if not a bit wary.

“Out with it.”

“I hate change,” Vera spews out quickly, a slight slip of tongue that has her blushing to the tips of her ears.

“Oh? I didn’t take you for the traditional type,” I tease. She gives me a pointed look that only says ‘you’ve offended me and my entire bloodline. Prepare to die.’

“I’m not I just… I need the comforts of consistency, “ She explains with a heavy sigh, rocking forward to brace her elbows against her thighs. Her face in her hands. “I love having more freedom. That’s been a welcome change, but it’s still just daunting. Like I’m treading in unfamiliar waters. Like Blaine.”

“Blaine is unfamiliar waters?”

“Yes and no. He was my best friend, and I think he still is, I’m just not sure. I see him and expect a hug or a joke or a soft smile, like he used to do. Now it’s all ‘Yes, my lady. No, my lady. Stop jumping out of windows, my lady.’ I don’t know how to blur the lines between then and now.”

“And you miss him,” I conclude, knowing full well how that feels. To miss someone right in front of you. To know you love them and hate who they’ve become. To hate the shell of them while you’re scrambling for the pieces, desperately trying to glue them all back together again with your own blood.

Vera goes quiet for a moment. The world around us seems to respond, the clouds beginning to form above, the last streaks of golden sunlight weakly bathing her hair and face. The ocean calms to a dangerous, glass-like state, the wind whipping through the silky fabric of her blue dress. My breath hitches in my throat when she turns back to look at me. She gives me a soft sad smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I long for him in every still moment. Every time things get too quiet, he’s there.” A shuddering sigh. “When I can’t outrun time, I yearn.”

Ignoring the gentle pang in my chest, I prod forward. “Why don’t you just tell him you’re still in love with him then?”

Verosa sighs, tensing up once more as she fiddles with a blade of grass. She lifts her chin as if bracing against the truth, then says, “Because I don’t. Not that way anymore, at least. Somewhere along the line, I gave up on something that died years ago, and I think I’m better for it.”

Now it is my turn to keel forward in shock, not that I haven’t noticed the subtle shifts in their interactions as of late. If he had pulled that little stunt back during training only a few months ago, Vera would have been a stumbling, blushing mess. Rather, a cool rage and bewilderment had coated her mannerisms the rest of the night and the next few missions she had been sent on. All of those missions had been wildly successful, so maybe I owed Blaine a thank you card or some flowers.

“So he’s not the one you’d die for,” I murmur, waiting for a reaction to this new piece of wisdom. Vera’s face scrunches in confusion, and she tosses her hands in the air.

“Am I supposed to know what you mean by that?”

“My mother always told me there were two types of love, the type you would kill for, and the type you would die for. See, I would kill for any of the guys back home. Kya, Amír, Derrín, even Finneas and Aiko. It takes a special person to die for.”

Vera considers this for a moment. “Would you die for your mother?”

“Of course.”

The young pureblood nods pensively before stating plainly, “I wouldn’t. My mother was a bitch, and I’m relieved she’s dead.” She looks up at my undoubtedly startled expression and asks, “Am I going to Hell for that?”

“If you’re going to Hell, then I am definitely going wherever you religious people say is worse than Hell.” The wind whistled sounding like a distant scream, and Vera laughs a bit, some of the light returning to her.

“She was awful. I don’t ever remember her telling me she loved me, but I remember every lashing I’d receive when I’d ‘embarrass’ her in front of high society. She once brought out a riding whip, and I bled for days, or she would just start restricting my meals before large events. Meeting your mother was like a breath of fresh air.”

My jaw goes slack in horror. The fact that someone as kind and lovely as Verosa could be subjected to such villainy from such a young age… An iron fist of rage wraps around my heart and squeezed it tightly. I open my mouth to offer consolation, but Vera holds up a hand to silence me.

---