“And what, Rylan? Now that you’ve bedded me, you feel some misplaced obligation to coddle me? No, that’s not how this is going to go. Please don’t tell me you’re the kind of man who thinks a woman suddenly becomes weaker because you’ve fucked her!”
“It’s not misplaced. And of course I don’t think that. But how do you think I feel watching you getting almost crushed, drowned by that water?”
“Probably the same way I felt for the last few days as you were deployed to the far reaches of the kingdom to fight a rebellion, with me having no idea if you were hurtor even alive!”
He flinches. “I am Celestaris, Eirabella. It’s my job to go.”
“And I trust you to be able to take care of yourself. That’s all I’m asking, that you do the same for me.” His gritted teeth tell me just what he thinks about doing that. Might as well go in for the kill. “All I’m doing is trying to become Aquilith so that I can be there, supporting you, by your side. You brought me here for that. You took me from my home, you promised me I was meant for this, and here I am. And now it’s become my goal. I want this, I want to play my part. And I’m not going to let you get in the way of that, Rylan.”
His thumb finds the edge of my cheek, his voice strained as he says, “Eirabella, I can’t just stand by and watch you get pushed past your limits.”
“Then maybe you shouldn't watch!” I throw my hands up in frustration. "If it’s too hard for you to see me get hurt, then you’re going to have to figure out what to do about that for yourself. I can’t help you with that.”
"Lost in thought?"
I’m in the gardens later, taking some time to myself when I look up, startled, to find the king at my side. His presence is commanding, but not oppressive. There’s something about him that always feels… larger than life.
"Your Majesty," I say, jumping to my feet and quickly composing myself so I can curtsey. "My apologies, I didn’t see you."
He offers a small dismissive wave. "I noticed. You seemed… preoccupied."
I nod, unsure of how much to reveal. "Just… thinking."
"About your training, no doubt." He glances at me, his gaze sharp. "Master Tavyn is known for being rather rigorous."
"That’s an understatement," I mutter, earning a soft chuckle from him.
He walks beside me for a moment in silence before speaking again. "You’ve been doing exceptionally well, Eirabella. Your progress has been remarkable. Especially considering where you started."
I glance at him, trying to gauge his intentions. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"You’re pushing yourself hard," he observes, his tone casual but probing. "May I ask why this is so important to you?"
I hesitate, unsure of where this conversation is going. Has it slipped his mind that partly why I’m even still here is because he threatened my friends? But he hasn’t once mentioned our first conversation. "It’s become important to me to… be impressive," I say, mirroring his words from the first day. “And to make a difference with my life.”
"A noble cause," he says, but there’s something behind his words. Something more. "But is that all? Surely there’s something else."
I frown, trying to read him. Why is he asking me this? What does he want?
"I simply feel as though, if as some people say, my magic is strong, then I want to put it to good use," I say carefully, watching him for any reaction. "Isn’t that enough?"
"For most, perhaps," he replies, his smile widening. "But I find that those who seek greatness often have deeper motivations. A hunger for power, maybe. Or something more… personal?"
I suddenly feel an urge to say more, to explain. But I bite back on mentioning his son.
"I just love this… kingdom," I say, choosing my words cautiously. "That’s all."
"Admirable," he says, and suddenly the strange hold on my tongue seems to release. I must’ve imagined it. The king’s charisma always has been legendary. "You remind me of someone, you know."
"Who?" I ask, genuinely curious now.
"My late queen." His voice softens. "She was strong. Driven. Like you. Clever to a fault. You know, I feel like, if she had had just a little more time, she would’ve found a cure for her illness." Resentment makes a home in his expression.
I blink, taken aback by the comparison. "I can’t imagine the depth of your loss. I am so sorry, Your Majesty."
"Thank you. It was… difficult. Losing her." There’s a long pause before he speaks again, his tone lighter but still probing. "They expect me to marry again, you know."
I stiffen slightly, unsure of where this is going. "That must be… challenging."
