Vasili closed his own folders. He couldn’t see anything in them anyway.
‘You know, there have been many things I have disagreed with you on,’ said Andreas. ‘But throughout your rebellions and your disregard of our traditions, none of your sins has been as egregious as this.’
‘Watch yourself, Andreas. I’m willing to take your advice, but you are very close to overstepping,’ Vasili growled.
‘I may have my own thoughts on your queen, but neither of you deserves this—and the Kingdom doesn’t deserve a king lost in misery.’
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you miss her,’ said Vasili.
‘Perhaps I do.’ Andreas stopped at the door. ‘I am a traditionalist, but my concern had always been for what is best for the throne. And in the end, even if we disagreed, Queen Helia proved those concerns unwarranted. You’re not the only one who’s had time to think.’
Vasili scrubbed his hands down his face when the door softly clicked shut. Yanking on his desk drawer, to store away the files on his table, he saw an envelope slide forward.
His father’s letter.
He picked it up and closed the drawer, turning it over in his hand. He was already in torment—what was a little more? If there was ever a time to read the words of a man who had never cared for much, it was now.
Vasili pulled the letter free and unfolded it, seeing the familiar scrawl. He could almost picture his father with his black fountain pen in hand.
He began to read...
My dearest Vasili,
How I wish you’d never have to read this letter...
Of course he had—because if everything had gone to plan, Leander would have been in this chair.
...I know you will read those words and think I havewritten this because I never wished for you to be King, and that is my own fault, but the truth is that Iwish you still had your brother. That you did not have to be alone.
I mentioned this in my previous letter, but I fear, even as I write that you may not have read the words and that is undoubtedly my fault.
I have many regrets in life, Vasili, but perhaps you are my greatest. I regret that I put the crown before you. I saw every day what my choice did to you. You see, I was deluded into thinking that this throne was the most important thing. That everything else was secondary. Including my family. Including anything as frivolous as happiness. That withholding affection and raising you both to put duty first would create strong leaders. Kings.
I don’t want you to make the same mistakes, Vasili. Learn from mine. Do not repeat them and become like me, an old man on his deathbed seeing with clarity for the first time and filled with regret.
You are strong, son. Perhaps the strongest of us all. You stood up for yourself, for what you wanted and believed in. As much as it irritated me, I admired you for it so much more. This is how I know you will be a strong king. A good king.
This throne is a lonely place, son, so find yourself a queen who will not just be what Thalonia needs, but what you need first.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this enough, and I’m sorry it comes in two letters, but I love you, Vasili. I would stand over your crib every night and marvel at just how much it was possible to love something so little and so precious.
I know it is too late to say all of this, but I am sorry, son.
I love you and believe in you.
With regret for destroying the first letter his father had left him roiling in his belly, Vasili read through this one to his father’s signed-off scrawl and then tossed it aside. He propped his elbows on the table, resting his forehead against his laced fingers.
He could have read those words that he’d so wanted to hear a year ago. Could have known he had been loved. And it was his own fault that he hadn’t, because he’d been so hurt and angry.
There was so much hurt in his family. That was their true legacy. Vasili couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry any more. A letter did not make up for twenty-nine years of rejection, but it did show him a man lost in his misery. In the wrong choices.
Just as he had made the wrong choices.
Vasili had the perfect queen and he realised that he loved her with a viciousness. She was exactly what he needed. She had been from the start.
So now he sat at a crossroads. He could wallow in all that he had lost and wall his heart off permanently—because no one would touch it as Helia had—and then he would become yet another soulless king. Or he could fight the fear. Find the bravery he had been blessed with to rebel, but use it to go after the woman he loved. The woman who loved him back. Who had changed his life.
And just like at the start of all this madness, there was no real choice. Because the only right answer was to choose Helia.
