30. Chapter 30

thirty

T he road out of Shemmar snaked away from Ravenbluff, winding its way through a bleak landscape. Muddy slush stretched endlessly, swallowed by the horizon where gray sky met skeletal trees. Every rock, blade of snow-laden grass, and bend seemed alien, shadows in an unfamiliar world.

Kallessa’s stomach churned. In her twenty-two years, she’d never ventured this far from home. Loneliness settled deep within her bones, colder than the biting wind that whipped at her cloak.

Two hours had passed since she’d left. The day has warmed slightly, but a chilly breeze still cut through her clothes, sending shivers racing across her arms and chest. Was this foolish? She wasn’t even sure where the next inn was located. The deserted roads offered no one to ask for directions.

Dovina’s abrupt departure gnawed at her. She hadn’t seen her cousin at the masquerade ball, but with the myriad of colorful masks and elaborate costumes, Kallessa could have easily missed her. And, honestly, she’d been so distracted by Nevander that Dovina could have stomped on her foot and Kallessa probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Dovina was only seventeen. Maybe she should have kept a better eye on her. It was easy to forget how young Dovina was sometimes by the way she acted. Kallessa had been just as uncertain at that age, still relying on her parents for guidance. At least, until they were gone.

She rubbed Sunu’s head, her thoughts a maelstrom. Uncle Talos had bragged about selling the entire herd to the royal family. How had she not connected the dots when Nevander spoke of his brother buying Sunu? The chances of spending two weeks with the Prince of Dracia and not knowing it seemed impossible. Yet here she was, the biggest idiot in the kingdom. Nausea rolled through her again as she thought of her last sight of his troubled face before it had all crashed down.

Kallessa nudged Sunu into a trot, widening the space between her and Ravenbluff Estate. She just wanted to forget the last two weeks. To focus on home, the humble cottage by the ocean where the salty sea breezes danced through the windows, Aunt Gevene’s absent minded antics and silly stories. She forced the memories to the forefront, forced the nostalgia she craved. Yet, the familiar comfort of those things now left her feeling cold and hollow inside.

Nevander draped his battered body across the settee in the library, every muscle screaming in protest. The roaring fire cast flickering shadows, each one a memory of Kallessa. Had it only been weeks since they were trapped behind that very fireplace? Since they’d shared a kiss that still burned on his lips?

He tilted his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. The ghost of her touch haunted him, a phantom warmth in the growing chill of her absence. Never again. He’d probably never see her again, much less feel the softness of her lips against his. If his body wasn’t a map of bruises and aches, he’d leave right now. Maybe just board a ship and sail off to uncharted waters, never returning.

Instead, he stayed there, the cushions lulling him along with the heat from the fire. Could he ever let go of the violence? Why did he have to beat himself to exhaustion before he could calm his thoughts?

It hadn’t been like that with Kallessa. She’d calmed his mind like a good fight calmed his body. Her presence was a sanctuary he never knew he craved until he found himself without it.

What would he do now? Provoke Declan to beat the crap out of him daily? The thought held a certain dark appeal, but every muscle and joint in his body cried out against it. His shoulder throbbed sharply with every heartbeat, a constant reminder of Declan’s fury. He chuckled darkly at the memory of Declan’s merciless rage. The captain hadn’t held back in the slightest. They used to fight like that, he and Castien—so evenly matched that neither could ever get the upper hand. Now…

He saw Castien’s thin pale arms wrapped around Wynna again, and it made him want to break something.

A soft tap on the doorframe yanked him from his brooding. Nevander’s eyes fluttered open, even that slight movement sending tendrils of pain through his skull. While he’d been lost in thought, night had fallen. Wind whistled down the chimney, and unbidden, his mind raced to Kallessa. Where was she now? Was she safe? She and Dovina weren’t traveling alone. The coachmen would protect them. They had to.

Ciana glided in, her olive gown shimmering like liquid gold in the firelight. She shoved his feet off the settee, his boots hitting the floor with a thud that reverberated through his battered body. She settled beside him, her eyes lost in shadow, her face a canvas of flickering emotions as she gathered her thoughts. A log shifted and crackled in the hearth, sending sparks swirling up the chimney.

“Dane spent hours in this room, planning for his rule of the kingdom when the time came,” Ciana said.

Nevander studied his sister. She so rarely spoke of Dane, of her time spent at the estate, that he knew almost nothing about it. And in the time since he’d returned from war, he hadn’t cared. His own pain had consumed him.

“I can count on one hand the amount of minutes I was allowed here. Except for the one time…”

He’d known this space was off-limits to Wynna, but it had never occurred to him that the same restrictions might have applied to Ciana. That this room, which should have been as much hers as any other part of the estate, had been forbidden territory.

Ciana glanced about, her face pale in the golden light. “It hasn’t changed a bit.” She laughed. “But why would it?” She waved a hand to a dark desk gleaming in the dim light. “I can tell you that there is a gouge out of the woodwork of that desk, and how it got there. I can tell you why there’s a red wine stain on the carpet that won’t come clean under that lamp stand. I can tell you there’s a hidden room behind the fireplace.”

Nevander knew all too well about that hidden room, but he held his tongue. The pain etched on his sister’s features kept him silent.

“Yet I tried to stay away from here as much as possible.” She slumped back against the settee, running her hand across the green velvet fabric. “I’ve never even sat on this couch. It’s comfortable. ”

They lapsed into silence, both staring into the dancing flames. Even though the two could bicker as much as the next set of siblings, they both knew how to just be. His eyes fluttered close again. He was so tired. Yet just as he began to doze, his sister spoke.

“He’s not getting better, is he?” Her voice was a murmur above the popping of the embers.

Worry that had been eating at him since his arrival came roaring back. Ever since seeing Castien for the first time in two years, the man who’d been transformed into an invalid.

Nevander shifted, wrapping his arm around Ciana. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” he admitted, the words heavy on his tongue. “Shaydn left him on the road to recovery last year.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I was shocked when I saw him.”

“Me too.”

Nevander shook his head. “Something is eating at him. He hardly eats, he roams the halls of this estate like a wraith at night. And he’s so cold.”

Ciana’s voice was small, vulnerable. “Are we all falling apart?”

He glanced into her eyes, a more hazel shade of green than his own. “What do you mean?”

She huffed, a sound caught between a laugh and a sob. “For our kingdoms, we’re sacrificing ourselves. And it’s killing us.”

He couldn’t pretend ignorance.

“You,” she poked him, her finger finding a bruise that made him wince, “went off to war, watched your men die, and came back a shadow of yourself.”

Darkness edged its way into his vision. He didn’t want to think about it. But Ciana pressed on, her voice growing stronger. “ Castien saved his father, but lost his brother, the heir to the throne.”

“And I,” she whispered, “married a man who used me as a vessel for an heir. A duty I never fulfilled, and he despised me for it.”

Rage bubbled up inside Nevander, a simmering fury that he’d thought hours spent sparring in the ring with Declan had beaten out of him, at least for one night. Wynna was a beautiful, bright child, but she wasn’t the son and heir that Dane had desperately wanted.

Ciana kicked off her slippers, curling her feet under her. “Mother promised after I returned to Lionskye that she’d never allow another of her children to marry out of duty.”

Never marry out of duty. The words echoed in Nevander’s mind, bringing thoughts of his older brother, Myka, destined to be the next king of Dracia. The rift between Myka and his wife, Umina, was a chasm. They didn’t even share a home anymore. Umina thrived in the city, while Myka retreated to their sprawling rural estate. Their young sons, Gavril and Janson, were shuffled back and forth like parcels, caught in the crossfire of their parents’ estrangement.

And Tarrick, the middle child, couldn’t keep still long enough to even consider finding love, always chasing the next thrill. Was it born from a deep-seated fear of crushing duty and obligation?

“Do you love her?” Ciana’s abrupt question shattered the contemplative silence.

“Who?”

Ciana leveled him with a pointed stare, sitting up straighter as she looked down the slender bridge of her nose at him. There was a knowing glint in her eyes, one eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly superior way only an older sibling could master.

How could he love Kallessa? He’d known her for a mere two weeks. And yet... given time, he knew he could. Deeply. Purely. Completely.

Nevander averted his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to find out if you could?” Her question cut through his haze of denial, laying bare the truth he’d been grappling with.

With every fiber of his being, he wanted to. The realization was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Then why did you listen to me when I told you to let her go?”