Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m pleased that you think so highly of me, my king.”
“No, call me your prince. This is the last night that you can,” he murmurs, and stops walking to tilt my chin up with his fingers. “Let me hear it.”
“My prince,” I whisper, smiling against his mouth as he kisses me.
His heart is too good. Too pure. I hate that I cannot open mine to it. Will I always feel this guilty, pretending?
“I won’t claim to know what my father put you through,” Cassan says, searching my face. “But I hope that someday, I won’t see that sadness in your eyes.”
I force a smile and nod down the path. “Let’s go inside. I’ve grown hungry.”
When we enter the palace, the doors admitting us directly into the royal dining room, we are besieged by a slender faery with a face that reminds me of a marketplace puppet show. Dour lines pull down his mouth and his head is oddly tall. He is one of Cassan’s chamberlains, and his arms are full of scrolls. Ink stains his white hair where he’s tucked a quill behind his ear.
“More news on the invitations, Your Majesty,” he says, before even asking for permission to speak.
That is something that Casssan must work on, I think. He can’t simply allow his courtiers to flout the protocol they followed with his father.
“Tell me.” Cassan walks us past him, straight to our seats behind the table on the dais.
“Baron Scylas sends his regrets. He hints at troublesome visitors,” the chamberlain says, lowering his voice.
“Ah. So, we know where my brother is.” Cassan chuckles at that.
“Should we send a detachment of inquisitors to arrest him?” the chamberlain asks.
This makes Cassan laugh harder. “Why would I want to bring him back? To execute him? I should be thanking him. He’s the reason I’m even inheriting the crown.”
“And if he changes his mind about that and moves against you?” The chamberlain looks to me uncomfortably, as if pleading with me to make Cassan see reason.
In terms of royal succession, the chamberlain is right. Kathras did flee, but there’s nothing stopping him from later regretting the decision to give up the throne and returning to claim it. But Cassan already knows this, and I will not urge him to kill someone I love. Someone who protected me.
“Should that time come, and I don’t believe it will, Cassan is strong enough to deal with it, then,” I say, reaching for the wine a servant pours for me.
“My mate speaks the truth,” Cassan agrees. “And I will not kill my brother, anyway.”
The chamberlain opens another scroll, clearing his throat. “Luthian of Mithrax sends his regrets, as well.”
My heart plummets. There was a chance I could have seen Luthian again? Though I did not know it until now, it disappoints me so keenly that tears spring to my eyes. I take a sip of wine to cover my reaction.
“He sends a gift, though.” The chamberlain gestures across the room to another servant, who comes forward with a large, stone pot bearing a flowering shrub.
My stomach lurches and I nearly vomit the small amount of wine I’ve consumed.
The blooms are unmistakable.
“A honey flower bush?” Cassan’s brow wrinkles. “What an odd present.”
“It could be a ghoulish reference, Your Majesty,” the chamberlain suggests. “Perhaps another matter for the inquisitors.”
Cassan shakes his head. “I am not my father. I don’t take murderous offense to simple jokes. In fact, I’d like to have it planted on the spot where his ashes were buried. Luthian will find that terribly funny when he visits again. What say you, Cenere?”
I beam at him, trying to hide the effort of holding my broken heart together. Luthian will never come here again. Kathras is in exile. And I am about to become queen to a king that I can never love.
“Of all the things he could have sent.” Cassan half-smiles in amusement. “Honey flower.”
Chapter Forty-One
I cannot sleep, and my restlessness leads me to the horrible, mirrored bedroom once more. There is nothing for me there but horrid memories. Thrace’s head presented to me, stealing my dreams. Bathing the poisoned honey and the king’s blood from my body in the water from the faery baths. Even that water reminds me of Kathras.
There is nothing at court, however, to remind me of Luthian. At least, there wasn’t, before he sent the honey flower bush.
Was that his purpose? To hurt me? To remind me of him, every time I see it?
He knows I love him. He loves me. And yet, I stand on the precipice of an event that will forever change my life, and he does nothing. Worse than nothing. He mocks me for it with his cruel gift.
I don’t know what intent brought me to the queen’s chambers, but I do remember where Parphia’s journal is hidden. That is a link to Luthian, I realize. I can feel his love through the dead queen’s words. A love that I wished to have, but which he refused to give me.