I frown. “Oh, that’s strange. What caused that?”
“Me.”
Despite myself, a wry smile spreads across my face. “You know, you might have a bit of an anger issue. You can’t just go around drowning everyone who threatens me!”
His jaw flexes, and if I was anyone else, I’d retreat in fear from the untamed threat in his eyes. “Try and stop me.”
I shake my head at the utter confidence in his voice. “Rylan. You’re the crown princeandmy mentor. People will talk about the special treatment you’re giving me.”
He smirks. “Fucking let them.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Rylan
It’sdark as I walk through the gardens, trying to clear my head, but all I can think about is our fight—Eirabella, standing there, her eyes blazing with fury, her words cutting through me sharper than any blade. I shouldn't have moved her things without asking. I understand that. But this isn’t just about her comfort; it’s about her safety and protection. Why can't she see that?
The soft evening scent of flowers does little to soothe me, and neither does the soft breeze carrying the melody of the garden’s fountains. I force myself to take a deep breath, but the tension refuses to leave my shoulders. I’ve never had someone speak to me like that—challenging me, standing her ground. The way her eyes blazed contrasting with the softness of her lips on my cheek twists something deep in my chest, a craving, a need that knows it can never be assuaged.
Turning a corner, I see my mother, seated on the benchoutside her chapel. She’s peacefully gazing up at the setting sky, the familiar jewellery box beside her, filling the cold night with one of her favourite tunes. She notices me immediately and gestures for me to join her.
“Oh, what a lovely surprise. Come sit with me, Rylan,” she says, her voice as warm as ever, but there's something knowing in her eyes, as if she can already tell what's weighing on my mind.
I take a seat beside her, rocking back on my hands and she leans against my shoulder, letting the music fill the silence for a moment. I glance at the small jewellery box, its tinkling song soft and sweet.
“Still listening to this rickety old thing? You could have the Narathia Orchestra perform any tune under the sun, just for you, Mother,” I tease lightly, trying to distract myself from my thoughts.
She chuckles, a light sound that feels like a balm against the stress I’ve been carrying. “Sometimes, we prefer the simple things.” Her gaze shifts to me, sharp and observant. “I think you might know what I’m talking about.”
I tense, knowing exactly where this is headed but unwilling to address it directly. I shrug, keeping my tone casual. “What do you mean?”
She smiles faintly. “You’ve been raised in a world of opulence, Rylan. But lately, I wonder… what’s it like for you to be around someone who’s lived a life so far removed from the trappings of royalty?” She waves her hand slightly, indicating the palace, the gardens, the life of luxury I’ve always known.
Eirabella.
It’s like these days everything always points back to her.
Mother continues, “Sometimes, I wish I had taken you away from all of this,” she says, her voice soft and filled with regret. “I wonder what kind of man you wouldhave become without the expectations of the crown, without the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
I swallow the bitterness rising in my throat. “Are you unhappy with who I am?”
She rests a hand on mine, her touch grounding. “No, my darling. I’m just unhappy that you’re not happy.”
Her words hit harder than I expect, making me want to look away, but I hold her gaze. I know what she’s saying. She’s not talking about what I want. She’s talking aboutwhoI want.
Mothers always know, isn’t that what she’s always said to me?
I pick up the jewellery box, letting my fingers trace over its delicate design, the ancient words etched into its sides, the tune still playing softly. “Sometimes,” I admit quietly, “I wish I could have lived that life too. But then I wouldn’t be able to do what I do now. I won’t waste this life, Mother. I promise.”
She smiles, though there’s a sadness behind it that lingers in the air. “I know you won’t, I just wish I could be here to witness it all.”
Her words settle heavily on my shoulders, the weight of them impossible to ignore. I’m not going to insult her by pretending that I don’t understand what she’s implying. And she doesn't bother trying to comfort me with the idea that I’ll still have my father when she’s gone. She knows what that actually means for me. Instead, I reach over and squeeze her hand, and we sit like we have so many times in my life, simply in the quiet, beside each other.
Father appears after a few minutes, striding across the garden with purpose. His voice cuts through our peace. “Ah, there you are, Annalyne. I think you’ll like the book I have picked out for us to read. Come, before your tea gets cold, my dear.”
Mother gives me a look tinged with the sadness of years wewon’t have together, then rises, a little unsteadily, and I reach out to help her, but she waves me off. She walks to him, taking his offered hand. Closing the lid with a dull thud, I hold out the jewellery box to her, but she glances at me, her eyes soft.
“You keep it for now,” she says. “A reminder of the simple joys in life.”
