He answers with a snort.
Time passes where neither of us speak. We eat and watch in silence, both stewing in our own thoughts and personal miseries. It must be nice for our other brothers not to feel the weight of the crown at every passing moment.
Every so often, I catch Casimir watching Aeton. The twins have both stripped themselves of their shirts as they sweated through them. Their muscles gleam under the shining rays of the sun. When Casimir isn’t looking, Aeton watches him back.
I wish they wouldn’t be so obvious. Then again, I can’t stop the way my gaze gravitates back to Valentina.
“So I noticed Father hasn’t returned yet from his travels.” A statement and a question.
“He has not.” I nod. Secrets between Casimir and me are few and far between, but I’m not sure what I can tell him yet. What knowledge might put him in danger.
“Haven’t seen Basilus either. Though I must say, I don’t miss him.”
“I don’t either.”
I’ve been back home for a couple days now, transported back by some fraction of my father’s power. He said he needed me to oversee our court while he was busy. Though I think he just doesn’t trust me fully yet. At some point, he’ll return for me. Then I’ll get to see what he has been working on. What he says will be the turning point for our court.The answers he found in this so-called Book of Severed Souls.
A knot forms in my throat.
“You really aren’t going to tell me?” Casimir leans into his forearm, casually laid out across the table in front of him. “Come on, Merry Boy, don’t leave me in the dark.”
Merry Boy.A bothersome nickname from childhood that he still pesters me with on occasion.
I frown at the taunt. “Trust me, there are some things you don’t want to know.”
“Well, that’s simply not true.”
“Nosey busybody,” I hiss before turning my attention back out to the yard. Like a moth drawn to flame, my gaze skips over my brothers, finding the one person I most certainly should not be staring at.
Casimir’s laughter shakes the table. That joyous noise slips from him so freely, even during the times when life feels so dark. It’s truly something I’ve always admired about him. His chuckles settle into a low curious hum.
“Should we talk aboutthatinstead?”He doesn’t have to lift a single finger for me to know exactly who he is talking about.
"Really, rather we wouldn’t.” I grit my teeth and stare down at my tea, wishing it was alcohol instead.
“Give mesomething.”
Distract me.That’s what he is really pleading. That is the tired look in his gaze.
A wave of empathy washes over me. I can relate to the desire to think about something else—anything else—for a few minutes.
“What do you want to know?”
He offers a wide, toothy grin as I sink back in my chair, and the wind ruffles my hair with just enough chill that goosebumps form on my arms. One more glance to ensure listening ears and prying eyes are far enough away, and he folds his hand over his abdomen.
“Are you going to pursue her?”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes become two narrow slits. “You don’t know?”
“Cas, what do you want me to say?”
“Tell me that you’re smart enough to walk away. Tell me that I won’t have to rush to the throne room to watch our father cut your neck next.” I flinch, and his voice softens. “Tell me there is no way in hell that I’m going to lose you.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”
“So you’re done?”
