13. Xander

13

XANDER

X ander stepped out of the passageway and into his room, relieved to see Isla sleeping soundly in his bed. He tucked the wooden box he'd retrieved under his arm and slid the bookcase back into place, checking that she hadn't woken. Her breathing remained steady and even.

He crossed the bedroom as quietly as possible. Isla had heightened hearing, and he needed privacy for what he had to do.

The place above the hearth looked empty now without Cece's mother's painting. It had been a comfort in his weakest moment, but it didn't belong with him anymore.

He hoped Cece wasn't offended by him returning something that had once been so precious to him, but it occurred to him when he was lying awake beside Isla that making room for someone else in his life required some changes.

He'd started with the painting, but now it was time to let go of the letters he'd hoarded. He flipped open the lid and stared down at the loopy handwriting. It felt strange to burn the very thing that had kept him going in the most desolate year of his life, but there was a rightness in it, as if in letting go of this desperate story, he was rewriting what was possible for him moving forward. He could not be who he was before the joy and loss of the last two years, but he could rebuild himself into something new.

He imagined this like a spell, and burning each message could sever the last ties between him and Cece. In his heart, he knew he didn't need them anymore. It was as she'd said when they said their final goodbye: what was his was no one else's. What was hers was hers alone. Surrendering the physical symbols of their love didn't make it less real and made it no less valuable to him. His love for her was slowly changing form, and he felt at peace with it.

One by one, he fed the letters to the fire, releasing a little more of their history as the paper curled and burned.

"A little late for a ritual."

Xander jumped, turning to face Isla. Her voice was husky from sleep. She propped herself on an elbow, her eyes fixed to the last letter in his hand.

"Better late than never in this case, I think," he said, his voice hoarse.

Isla swung her legs off the bed and crossed the room to meet him. She moved with such effortless confidence. Her burgundy silk nightdress hugged her body, leaving little to the imagination. Not that Xander needed help imagining.

She was free with her body—profoundly unselfconscious. Even having just woken up, her face creased from the sheets and her hair still wrapped in silk, she was completely unbothered by him looking at her.

Isla's confidence made him feel out of his element. Cece had been so innocent and fiery when they first met, it was easy to bait her. It was always easy to read her because they were so alike.

But Isla was so self-possessed. She did not need a single thing from Xander, and he was married to her cousin. Even if it was an unconventional marriage, it felt wrong to pine after Jessamin's decoy.

Isla sat on the floor beside him, glancing from the ashes of his letter in the fire to the last one in his hand. "Why did you keep them so long?"

Xander looked at the letter. It was the one he'd read the most, the edges mangled, the creases nearly torn through from folding and unfolding it so many times. He knew every line of it and every place where the ink was smudged with tears. He could even imagine the expression on Cece's face when she had written it.

He swallowed. A sudden knot formed in his chest. "In the beginning I just wanted to feel like I meant something—like I still had some part of the person I loved so much. But then—" He blew out a breath, trying to master the surge of love and grief in his chest. "Have you ever felt completely alone in the world and then you hear a story, or a poem, or some line from a play and you know that there was someone out there who understood that exact thing you are feeling in this very moment?"

The serious set of Isla's brow softened. "I have."

He held up the letter. "This one made me feel so understood. And when I read how much pain she was in, I didn't feel vindicated or satisfied. I felt relieved that I wasn't alone in the memory of what we had. Everyone was looking at me to have the answers for a kingdom of people, and there she was, a world away, feeling the same things, hurting the same way, and understanding what I was going through even though I never responded to any of her letters."

He leaned over to toss the letter in the fire, but Isla caught his hand. "Maybe you save just that one."

Xander held her gaze. "I don't think so. For a long time, I needed it—" He relinquished the letter to the flames before he could second-guess. "But I don't now."

Isla took his hand in both of hers and they watched the letter burn.

"My brother, Davide, once told me to name the fear and it would lose its hold on me. I used to be afraid I'd never have someone who understood me like that again." He met her eyes. "I'm not afraid of that anymore."

She watched as he pulled the chain out of his shirt. His gold wedding band clinked against the links, shining in the light of the fire.

He'd worn it there since he returned from Olney. He couldn't stand to see the reminder so clearly on his finger day after day, so he'd taken to wearing it on the chain around his neck, where he'd only notice it when it shifted against the scar on his chest.

"Will you burn that too?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I don't think this fire is enough to melt it down. Feels wrong to even try until I know what to do with it."

Isla smiled softly. "You'll forge it into something new."

He nodded. "As it forged me."

Her entire demeanor was softer than he'd ever seen it. He wondered if she'd let him kiss her, but thought better of it.

"We should get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow," he said.

He stood and helped her to her feet, walking her back to the bed. He tucked his ring into the drawer in his nightstand beside the box that held his mother's sapphire ring, which Cece had recently returned. He stared at it for a moment before shutting the drawer.

As he and Isla climbed into bed and laid down, facing each other, the wind howled, rattling the balcony doors.

"Storm blowing in," he whispered.

Isla looked past him toward the balcony doors. "What does it sound like?"

He grinned. "So, you did hear the storm song I hummed for you the night we met. You acted so unmoved."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I liked it. Must I pay for it now?"

"Of course not, darling. I'll hum you a storm song anytime you ask."

He hummed along with the rhythm of the storm until his eyes grew heavy and she slid her hand into his.

She didn't let go until morning.

Xander was done sitting on his heels, waiting for Vincent to do his worst. He'd already proven that he had no problem punishing Cece for getting out of line when he'd had a hunter in fake rebel regalia attack her days earlier. That stunt was clearly meant to give Rainer a chance to play hero and send Cece the message to stay in line.

She'd fully recovered but Xander had a plan to try to expedite the process before one of them was hurt again. They needed to be more discreet moving forward.

The afternoon was unseasonably warm, which meant that most of his councilmen were out and about in the gardens. If Xander was going to figure out which side his remaining nobles were on, he'd need to test each of them.

Isla's gloved hand rested on his arm, and he was trying to act natural. She studied him in a way that made him inconveniently nervous. In the light of day, he felt uncomfortable with the vulnerability of the night before. He wanted her to think he was charming and clever, so much so that he couldn't remember how to hold his arm properly. It was as if he forgot how to do the most common movements around her.

"Are you well?" she asked, gripping his arm tighter.

"Yes, I'm fine."

He continued to watch her out of the corner of his eye as they walked. She wore a deep burgundy cloak that parted to show off a gown of the same color with an intricately beaded bodice. He stared at it, not just because of the heart-shaped neckline that gave a tantalizing view of her full breasts, but because he was certain it contained some sort of weaponry, like all of her dresses seemed to, and he wanted to know where.

Her hair was braided around her head, a ruby tiara tucked atop it. The jewels glistened in the sunlight, bringing out the warmer tones in her skin. He knew better than to underestimate any woman, but looking at her in that dress, she didn't look like someone who could have you on your back with a blade to your throat in a second.

Perhaps that was the appeal.

"If you're done with your gawking, I think I see someone up ahead." Isla's gaze narrowed on the path before them. "Is that him?"

Xander nodded, unbothered that she'd caught him admiring her. "Corin! Lord Archer! "

Corin Archer turned and walked toward them, a younger man beside him who looked too much like him not to be his son. "Your Graces. It's good to see you out making the best of the fair weather." His eyes flashed over the castle. "Especially with it being so stuffy inside."

His tone sounded like he sincerely didn't like Vincent, but there was only one way to know for sure.

"Happy to hear you say so," Xander said. "Jessamin and I were just saying how respite can be found for those who prefer more open discourse and radical positions at Liar's Kiss. I'm sure you've heard of the most famous brothel in Argaria."

Corin's eyes widened, as did his son's, the not-so-subtle meaning of Xander's message dawning on him. "Respite, Your Grace?"

"Indeed," Xander said. "In fact, if you wanted to see for yourself, or if you know anyone who is in need of respite after recent events, that would be a good place to find it at dusk on Thursdays."

Corin's mouth twitched. "That's good to hear, Your Grace. I think perhaps some were worried that you were as comfortable as you let on with your new occupation."

Xander almost laughed. The man was so expert at double talk, no doubt from his time managing his shipping business, that Xander prayed he was on their side and not Vincent's.

"Well, we won't take up any more of your time," Corin said. "My son and I have a meeting with the king."

Xander patted him on the shoulder. "Be agreeable and safe, Lord Archer."

The men bowed and left.

"One down, two to go, darling," Xander said.

Isla pursed her lips. He'd noticed she did that when she was trying not to smile at his flirtation.

They repeated the exercise when they found a second council member, Felix Bidell, by the garden sitting room, telling him a similar tale. Xander named the gambling hall and fighting club, Death and Fortune, as the location.

Finally, they found Vaughn Salvatore, who droned on about the future of the grain trade in Argaria for a good fifteen minutes before Xander had a chance to feed him the same tale of a burgeoning rebellion, only substituting the matchmaker's studio, Heart of Chaos, for the meeting place.

In three days, he would have their friends on the outside keep an eye on each location at dusk to see if any of the men sold them out. It wasn't a foolproof plan, but they might get lucky.

Xander led Isla back into the castle and up to their rooms.

"That man's incessant chatter should be considered treason," Isla said, rubbing her temples as they cut down the hallway.

"A queen's job is to listen to all her subjects and give equal weight to their complaints, darling."

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose it's a good thing I'm not queen."

Xander felt a surprising pang of hurt at the words. He knew she meant it less about him than the tedious requirement of hearing out loyal subjects, but he couldn't help noticing the way she kept reinforcing the space between them.

"So you gave them three different locations and you'll wait to see which, if any, are raided?" Isla asked.

He nodded.

She gave him a strange look. "I'm not sure I like how easily you perform. It makes it impossible to tell what's real and what is illusion. All those clever words coming out of your mouth, and yet I can't tell which are you and which are the lies."

"The mark of a seasoned spy," Xander said.

She frowned. "And what will you do with such a skill when your spying days are over?"

"I assume I'll use this clever mouth for more satisfying endeavors."

"Are you ever serious?" Isla huffed, rounding the corner toward his suite.

Xander sighed, shaking his head. "I am serious all the time, but if you joke when you're worried, it makes the burden feel lighter. I've been through too much these past few years not to find the humor in the little things. "

She gave him a sidelong glance. "You know, in Novum we have a god for this?"

"For jokes?" Xander asked, arching a brow.

"No, for espionage. The god of lies. He helps those who request his aid lie smoothly, though you seem to have a silver tongue, so perhaps you do not need his assistance."

"I promise lying is the least interesting thing my tongue can do," Xander said.

Isla fought a smile.

"Tell me more about your gods. Are they like ours?"

She shook her head. "They're less disruptive, that's for certain. We more see their influence in the world—the god of stories speaking through the royal storytellers' mouths. The goddess of the stars and the god of the moon, lovers who spend the whole year reaching out to share light, until the summer when their love for each other creates rainbow auroras in the sky."

"You sound quite devout."

Isla smiled. "I suppose we all have to worship something."

"Ah, but that which I'm most devout to can only be worshipped in private," Xander said.

"You're a relentless flirt, but I'm not interested." The dark flush that crept up from the neck and her dilated pupils suggested otherwise.

"Then why do you look so turned on?" Xander taunted. "You know, I'd be happy to show you what I mean. Do you think you'd like being worshipped by a king?"

The look in her eyes suggested she'd like that very much, but she cocked her head to the side in challenge and glanced down the empty castle corridor. They had paused around the corner from the hallway that led to his room, and though it was usually bustling with guards this time of the day, it was strangely empty.

"I imagine it would be much the same as any overconfident man who's worshipped me," Isla said. "It would only serve as a very sloppy and very quick prologue to a mediocre main event."

Xander loved the challenge she presented. "Darling, I assure you that's not what I mean. I have no problem spending hours on my knees simply because I enjoy giving praise. As far as I'm concerned, that is the main event."

Isla swallowed hard. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she shook her head. A slight smile passed over her lips. "Gods, you are nothing but trouble."

"I think you mean fun."

She shook her head. "No—fun I can handle. You are trouble."

"How do you figure?" Xander asked.

"Because you act like a cad, but you're really sweet underneath."

"I assure you, Isla. I have nothing but the worst of intentions."

She laughed. "You don't. And that is exactly why I will be keeping my distance. Plus, you're still hung up on your ex-wife and you're married to my cousin."

He crossed his arms. "I hardly think it's my fault that I fall for exceptional women."

Isla rolled her eyes. "Of course not. You're helpless to your whims. Poor, tortured Storm Prince."

"It's Storm King now, actually," he said with a grin.

Isla shook her head. "You are incorrigible."

Xander stepped closer, stroking her cheek. "I suspect that you like that."

Before he could stop himself, he'd pinned her to the stone wall. He waited for a breath to see if her instinct was to pull away or if she felt the static pulse between them too.

He kissed her. Her whole body arched into him, as eager for the contact as he was. She moaned into his mouth.

Desire tore through him like wildfire. He hadn't felt that sense of new reckless wanting in a long time. It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet the moment he touched Isla it came rushing back.

His love for Cece had been fierce and consuming, leaving room for nothing else. He'd expected that would be the case forever, that he'd live a lifetime on the memory of what they'd had and simply go back to his old ways for physical needs. He'd never struggled to find creative and willing bed partners in Olney or Argaria. Now, as Isla opened up to him, he felt strangely unprepared for something more.

He'd been afraid he'd never find that feeling again, that he'd forever be bored, unable to work backwards to casual relationships after Cece. His first love had nearly killed him in every sense of the word. Now a new possibility opened before him.

It frightened him that he could see more with Isla. Because he didn't just want to take her to bed. He wanted to know her—to peek inside her mind and understand how to make her laugh, how to surprise and delight her, how to make her want to do the same with him. He didn't just want to go through the motions and perform a version of himself. Isla's intensity could match his.

She tugged him closer, her leg hooked over his hip, her fingers digging into his ass, encouraging him to grind against her. Even the way she kissed was confident and demanding.

He slid a hand up her side, cupping her breast, and she whimpered against his lips. It had been so long since he'd felt the driving need to connect with someone that way, to look into her eyes and see her fall apart in his hands.

He drew a blazing line of kisses down her neck, and she dropped her head back against the wall, a hand coming to the back of his head, her fingernails digging into his scalp. He ran a hand up the slit in her skirt, pulling back to meet her eyes.

She nodded and he slid his hand higher, brushing over the lace of her undergarments. Xander groaned along with her when he felt how wet she was.

"What are you doing to me, Isla?" he sighed, sliding the material to the side and brushing his fingers against her.

She moaned, arching into his hand, equally electrified by the touch, her eyes locked on his. He couldn't think about how fucked up it was that he was fingering his wife's decoy and that she was the first person who made him want to move on from a history of hurt. Perhaps he'd always been destined for complicated relationships because of his standing as a prince, but just once it seemed startlingly simple .

He liked Isla. She liked him. And, right now, it was just the two of them and no one else needed to know.

A new relationship didn't banish the ghosts of the old, it just took up residence in the same house. His heart might always be haunted, but it didn't mean he couldn't have love in his life.

"Please say you want more," Xander panted.

"More," she rasped, nodding eagerly.

He slid a finger inside her and she let out a sensual moan that Xander felt all the way to his toes. His cock strained against his pants. It couldn't be helped. But this was about Isla, the woman who was protecting her queen all while driving him out of his mind slowly.

He slid another finger inside her, brushing his thumb over her clit as she panted, dropping her face into the crook of his neck to stifle her moaning as she rode his fingers. He quickened his pace, feeling the first flutters of a climax in the urgent way she clung to him. Then her teeth dug into the place where his neck met his shoulder and she moaned, bearing down hard on his fingers as she quivered against him. It was so sexy. He slowed his movements as she twitched against him.

She leaned back against the wall, panting as he withdrew his fingers, lifted them to his lips, and sucked them clean. Her eyes lit with lust as they tracked the movement.

"Take me to bed," she panted.

Xander smirked, victorious. "As my queen commands."

She untangled herself from his arms, grabbed his hand, and tugged him down the hall. He couldn't wait to get her out of that dress and splayed out on the bed. He could only imagine how wild she'd be with his mouth on her. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as they rounded the corner to his room, her lips swollen from kissing, her hair coming loose from its updo. She was so meticulously put together all the time, it was nice to see her undone.

Making a mental plan for exactly what he was going to do, he burst into the bedroom only to find two people waiting for them.

Xander went rigid. He looked from the woman in front of him to the redhead beside her. "Jess? "

Isla went rigid next to him. Could Jessamin tell he'd just been making out with her cousin? That he had every intention of bringing Isla back to this very room and doing a whole lot more than that?

Jessamin grinned. "Hello, darling. I'd been waiting so long my disguise wore off." Her eyes passed over Isla's disheveled hair and Xander froze, waiting for her reaction.

A grin tugged at Jessamin's lips. "Could we speak alone, Xander?"

He nodded dumbly and Isla and Maren walked to the sitting room and closed the door behind them to give the illusion of privacy.

Xander cleared his throat, trying to calm his racing heart. Jessamin's gaze dropped to his pants, where his cock was still very obviously hard. The shock of seeing his wife should have been like being plunged into an ice bath, but Xander still felt so wound up. He was disappointed that the moment Isla had finally given him a glimpse of her, her cousin had shown up to ruin their fun. The timing couldn't have been worse.

"Having fun in my absence?"

Xander shrugged. "Yes, I was."

She smirked at the emphasis on the past tense.

"What are you doing here? I made Evan promise to keep you safe outside of this place."

She held up her hands, crossing the distance between them before taking his face in her hands and kissing his cheek. "I am glad to see you looking so well. Despite your correspondence, I have been worried sick."

Xander pulled her into a hug, relieved she wasn't furious at him. "Am I doomed to marry women who are too courageous for their own good?"

She tilted her chin up and laughed. "You married a warrior in a pretty dress, darling. You should have expected nothing less. Now sit, we must speak."

Xander sat in the chair and Jessamin stood before him, looking suddenly nervous.

"I could not bear to stay away longer, but once I explained the changed circumstances Evan was forced to agree with me. It would be bad if I was caught in a cell of rebels."

"Why? What changed circumstances?"

Jessamin smiled. "It seems we were successful on our wedding night attempt. It's very early, but I'm pregnant."

Xander felt breathless. His entire lineage had been almost eradicated and now, all at once, he was going to have a family again. Beyond that, he'd become so accustomed to the idea of not fathering his own children when he'd been with Cece that he'd put the idea out of his head altogether. He'd believed he could convince himself not to want it, even if deep down it was the one thing he'd always wanted.

He was going to be a father. Argarian tradition considered a wedding night baby to be a very good omen of more blessings to come, but it was hard to tell if he was seeing the sun on the horizon or was simply in the eye of a larger storm.

He'd always been the outsider in his family, and he wanted the opportunity to belong to something, to be the kind of parent who would accept his children's differences as unique and lovely parts of them instead of things they should be trained out of. He'd be more like his mother.

"Say something," Jessamin said, looking more uncertain of herself by the moment.

Xander jumped to his feet and swept her into a hug. "I'm at a loss for appropriate words, but please don't take that as anything other than my being overwhelmed with joy," he said, placing her back on her feet and tilting her chin up to meet her eyes. "How are you feeling? And why come back here now?"

Jessamin smiled. "I'm well. I was very tired and a bit nauseous, which is what tipped me off, but I'm otherwise fine. I came back because I can't stay in hiding out there. I'm much more likely to be noticed in Ardenis than I am here in the castle surrounded by Vincent's men. The common people know me now. Not to mention the fact that it would be much harder for me to have consistent oversight by a healer in town without being found out, and that could destroy everything our friends are working for out there."

Xander nodded, his head spinning. "But isn't Freya a healer? She could have helped you."

Jessamin shook her head. "Freya is fantastic in battle. Healing wounds with no scar, tending to poison, even. It's why she's one of my guards. But she has no experience dealing with pregnancy beyond her basic training. She could not do for me what Magdalena can."

Xander ran a hand over his face. He knew she was right, but there was so much at risk. "How did you even make it in here and disguise yourself?"

Jessamin frowned. "That's the part you're not going to like. Cato has been helping us disguise ourselves so we can cause havoc in town."

Xander dropped his head back and groaned. "You must be joking. Evan approved all of this?"

"Your trickster god can be very compelling."

Xander shuddered at the memory of just how compelling Cato could be. "But what's his angle? What does he have to gain?"

"I suspect he's bored, so perhaps just entertainment," Jessamin said.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

She shrugged. "Regardless, he's offered to fix my disguise daily when he does his castle walkthrough to enforce his bargain with you and Cecilia and the rest of the staff."

Xander nodded. He was afraid to believe it because he'd made enough mistakes when it came to Cato in the past. "Did you make a deal with him?"

Jessamin shook her head. "No deals. He offered."

Xander frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Okay, but you have to be so careful. You'll stay in my rooms, and we will have Magdalena come to you."

Jessamin grinned as he dropped to his knees and kissed her stomach .

"Jess, thank you. I didn't think—" His throat constricted, choking the words. "I thought I might never have a family of my own and it means a great deal to me that you were willing to do something untraditional."

She squeezed his hand. "It means a lot that you were willing to as well. I always wanted to be a mother. Motherhood is revered in Novum. My own mother will be delighted. She will be truly insufferable. Best we hold out telling her until this whole mess is figured out or she'll have the entire Novumi army on our shores in a week and I'm not sure that kind of force will keep the peace we're hoping for."

Joy and grief warred in his heart. The news was welcome but so overwhelming.

Jessamin ran her fingers through his hair. "You look a bit sad, darling."

Xander swallowed hard. He wasn't sure if it was stress, relief, or joy, but the words spilled out without his permission. "I think that I had a vision in my head of what my life was going to be and then I met Cece and it shifted so abruptly and I was on this new path, and I was so used to it. I hardly had time to settle in before it was ripped away. And now I have this new vision of my life and I should feel joyful. Instead, I'm terrified someone's going to rip it away again and there will be nothing I can do."

"Don't feel bad about that. Fear just means you still have something worth losing," Jessamin said. "It's about what you do with the fear."

Xander nodded. Like his brother Davide had said: Name the fear and it loses its power .

She ran her hands over her bodice. "Plus, if someone comes near me, I will gut them with my bare hands to protect this child."

Xander grinned. "I believe you.

Her eyes narrowed on him. "It's not just fear, is it?"

Xander shook his head. "The first thing I thought is that I wanted to tell Cece. I know she'll feel genuinely happy for us. I know that's true, but it doesn't mean that it won't hurt her. We've been through so much together. When I have good news, she's the first person I want to tell."

"Are you so sure that she can't take it? It seems to me she could use some good news too."

Xander sighed. "You're right. As always."

"The four best words a man can say to his wife," she said with a grin. "Now, would you like to tell me why my cousin looked so disheveled when you two walked in?"

Xander froze. "I don't know?—"

Jessamin waved a hand. "Spare me. I'm not the least bit upset or surprised. You deserve some joy. I just want to know what I'm walking into."

"Isn't it weird?"

"I'm honestly surprised it took you two this long. I think she's had a crush on you from afar since we were children. Isla loved stories about the Storm Prince, so when we were invited to court for you to choose a wife, she was clearly torn between wanting me to win your heart so we could stay and hating that idea because it meant she couldn't win it herself," Jessamin said.

Xander stared at her. "I'm certain you're not supposed to be sharing this with me."

"I'm certain she never will if I don't give the necessary push. Isla is stubborn to her core. I want you to have what I have. I know you weren't ready before, and maybe you're still not now. First love is brutal. But I think you deserve to be someone's first choice."

The words sliced through him. She'd named the deepest longing in his heart so casually.

Jessamin took his hands in hers. "You've given me so much. Allowing me to be a partner and rule beside and be with Maren. It's okay to trust someone again, to let someone see you for real. I get the impression you didn't the first time around."

Xander swallowed hard around the swell of grief and longing in his chest.

"It would be okay if you stopped punishing yourself, Xander. You're a good man and you deserve love. "

He looked away, focusing on the roaring fire so he'd have an excuse for the burning in his eyes. Jessamin came to stand beside him, threading her fingers through his and leaning her head on his shoulder. Sometimes love was holding someone's hand in the silence and waiting for the storm to pass.