Chapter 21

21

" O ne second!"

I stuff my head through the hole of a loose-fitting peasant blouse and pull my wet hair free as another round of knocks rattles my door.

"Coming!"

I crack it open and am surprised to find Sir Max standing there, his closed fist suspended mid-air as he breaks into a lopsided smile.

"Sir Max," I regard breathlessly. He steps back to bow.

"My lady." His tone laden with sarcasm. I roll my eyes, leaning against the door jamb.

"What can I do for you?"

"King wants to see you in his study."

I straighten, my heart suddenly racing.

"Now?"

He nods.

"Did he say why?"

"Yeah, and then he tucked me in and read me a bedtime story," he says facetiously, leaning on the hilt of his sword.

"Oh, shut up."

I close the door behind me and follow him. For some reason, I feel like a kid on their way to the principal's office. Did I do something wrong? Aside from flipping Jace off behind his back a handful of times, I can't think of anything.

Max dips his head, inclining it toward me.

"How's training going?" he asks in a secretive voice. I glance up at him, pursing my lips.

"It's going. Your captain is a hard ass."

"Hah! You don't have it half as bad as his men do."

"Are you kidding?" I scoff. "Since I started training with him, I've lost all feeling from the waist down." I pat my hips emphatically. My legs are still numb from this morning's session.

"He's been known to have that effect on females."

I gasp, appalled and also secretly thrilled by that implication.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Mind out of gutter, please . I repeat— mind out of gutter.

Max chortles loudly at my reaction, tossing his head back. "I'm just saying, I'm sure he's going easier on you because you're a girl."

I huff, crossing my arms. "Oh, I assure you, he is not. He is merciless."

"Maybe so," he relents, still smirking. "He's been a little on edge lately."

"Really? I thought that was just his usual winning personality."

Shaking his head, he blows out a long breath and mutters, "Match made in the heavens, the two of you."

"Excuse me?" I ask, almost defensively.

"I've never seen anyone get under his skin so much. Seems like the feeling is mutual." He chuckles under his breath. "It's pretty entertaining, actually."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"Look, whatever he's got you doing in training," Max gives me a sly once-over. "Keep it up. You look good."

I roll my eyes and smack him in the arm. Angling the focus away from myself, I ask, "Hey, where's your twin? Aren't you two attached at the hip?"

"I'm assuming he's with the queen," Max shrugs his broad shoulders.

I tilt my head in silent question.

"Mal is her sworn sword."

"Ah."

We round the corner to the king's study, and Max stops me a few feet from the door when we hear arguing inside.

"The night's watch saw you sneaking back into the keep last night. Or should I say this morning?" King Derek fumes, pacing behind the cracked door. "You know better than that."

"Like you never snuck out to have a little fun at my age? We went dancing. Nothing happened," Sorscha retorts.

"Something could have happened. Do you not understand the danger? Whose idea was this? Was it Kai's?" he grills. I can feel his bubbling anger all the way down the hall.

"It was all of ours," she says obstinately. "Gods, this place is like a prison."

"Yes, a prison of privilege and riches and every luxury you could dream of. You poor creature," Derek regales sarcastically.

"I would rather be poor and happy than royal and miserable," Sorscha boasts.

"You say that never having gone without your entire life."

"When are you going to stop treating me like a child?"

"When you decide to stop acting like one," the king says tightly, smacking his hand down on the desk. He looses a long breath. "I have been more than patient. It's time you stopped partying and playing dress-up and started paying attention to politics. This is your legacy. My legacy. Your mother's legacy?—"

"Do not bring her into this," Sorscha snaps, her voice sharper than I've ever heard it.

"Whether you like it or not, you need to settle down and start making heirs. This kingdom will be yours one day."

"I don't care! None of that has ever interested me."

"Well, unfortunately, this is your lot in life. Many have it far worse."

"You mean, unfortunately, I'm your only heir." Sorscha stands. "I'm sorry I wasn't born a male."

"That is not?—"

"No matter what I do, I'll never live up to your expectations."

"You've never even tried," Derek says reflexively.

Silence ensues.

"Sorscha, I won't be here forever to protect you—to look after you," he says a moment later. His voice is a touch more gentle.

"I don't need looking after."

"Everyone does," he sighs, sounding exhausted. "I have another meeting."

"Your Grace," Sorscha spits a second before the door flies open and she stalks out without seeing Max or me. We stare at each other open-mouthed for a beat.

"In you go," Max nods toward the door after a moment.

I swallow hard and step forward gingerly. After one knock, the door floats open of its own accord.

"Your Grace." I curtsy to the king, sitting at his cherry wood desk.

"Serena," he regards me, rising.

"If this is a bad time, I can?— "

"No, no. Please come in." He gestures for me to sit in one of the high-backed leather chairs across from his desk. Derek walks over and perches on the corner, his posture more casual than I've ever seen. But he looks worn out. Tired.

He runs a hand over his face, drawing his beard downward.

"I never dreamt that running a kingdom would be an easier feat than parenting."

"I'll take your word for it." I settle into the comfortable leather seat.

"I'm sorry if you heard all that." He explains, "Her mother passed when she was still young. I never quite learned how to talk to her the way she was able to."

"I'm so sorry."

He tips his head in thanks. A moment of silence passes between us.

"About last night—" I start, shifting in my seat.

"I didn't call you here to discuss last night."

"Really? You're not mad?"

"Oh, I'm furious. But not with you. My daughter is…a handful." He shakes his head, making a face.

"She's been good to me. Everyone has."

"I'm glad to hear it. I just wanted to check in. See how you're adjusting."

My eyebrows lift, and I inhale slowly, considering how I feel.

"I'm…adjusting." I nod unconvincingly.

"That poker face needs some serious work." Derek laughs, then takes a steadying breath. "Why are you uneasy?"

"You are…slightly terrifying," I admit carefully.

"I'm aware." He suppresses a smirk. "Is that all?"

I loose a long sigh. Then the words flood out of me like a burst dam.

"There's just a lot of pressure. We're fighting against time here, and the sooner I can free my magic and become a warrior, the better. I just want you to know I'm trying my best. I mean, I'm giving it my all. I'm taking this seriously."

I stare up at him.

"I know that. The captain says you've been making progress."

I perk up against my will. "He said that?"

"I know you and I didn't get off to the smoothest of starts. You left behind an entire life, your family, your friends?—"

"Actually, I didn't," I interrupt. A look of surprise flickers over his face. "I don't have any family. Not really. My dad died, and Zadyn's really the only friend I had. My life was...pathetic."

He studies me for a long time.

"Were you and your father close?"

A sharpness tugs at my heart.

I swallow, looking over the king's face—my father's face. He waits for my answer, completely oblivious to the fact that my dad's eyes peer out from his head. Every fiber of my being wants to hold him. To inhale his scent—that fresh laundry detergent scent that always made me feel so at home. Every part of me wants to spill the truth—the entire truth. To shout that I look like him because the universe is a cruel bitch with a sadistic sense of humor.

Instead, I force a smile and say, "Very."

"I was close with my father, too." He studies his calloused hands, the masculine rings on his fingers. "It was his life's goal to find you."

"Really?" I ask, inclining my head.

"He was convinced that you would be the answer to all of Solterre's prayers." He glances up at me, offering up a rare smile that softens his entire aura. "When I was a child, he would put me to sleep with stories about the ancient Blackbloods. Their heroic feats, their bloody battles. I was fascinated by the witches—their traditions and culture. I studied their ways for many years." Derek folds his hands in his lap, interlocking his fingers.

"When my father died, I made him a vow. That I would find you. And that I would prevent your line from dying out completely." He pauses. "Your arrival here is not coincidental. I fear something is coming."

"What do you mean?" I straighten.

"Just a feeling." Leaning forward, he braces his hands behind him on the desk. "I know we don't know each other all that well, but I have this—inexplicable faith in you. Faith that you will do all my father hoped you would. Don't disappoint me." His words are without threat, making them feel confidential and hopeful.

He trusts me.

"I won't," I manage to answer. He stands.

"I do hope that in time, you can be happy here. I understand that this is not the home you knew. But I want you to know that it is your home, nonetheless, if you so choose."

I nod gratefully, warmth spreading over my chest.