This is a crazy chapter. Love me, hate me, let me know - Allie.
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From Harry's own experience, when someone asked to speak to you alone, it was never good news.
His stomach churned with dismay as he followed Kenny outside and closed the door to muffle the chatter in the house. What remained was the rattling of trees, chirping of crickets, and howling of a lone wolf in the distance.
Kenny's moon-washed face appeared paler than usual. She was thinner, too. So thin he imagined her feet floating above the ground underneath the many layers of her full skirt. He'd never thought it was possible for anyone to wear such expensive fabric and look like the unhappiest person in the world. But Kenny had proved him wrong.
Had she not been eating well? Had Gideon been mistreating her? The thought of her crying over the son of a bitch made him tighten his fists. Why she'd agreed to marry that bastard was still beyond him. She could have done so much better. Not him. Not Gideon. But better.
"I've never seen your mum so happy," she said, keeping her hands behind her back like she always did when she was nervous. He pretended to not notice and returned her smile.
"Gem told me everything," he said. "Thank you for taking care of my family while I was away."
"I think of them as my own." She giggled and tucked a loose strand behind her ear, staring at her feet. "But...I did everything mostly because...because of you."
"Because of me?"
Because he'd been temporarily dead and she'd felt bad for moving on. That must be what she meant.
He kept clenching and unclenching his fists while waiting for her to continue. She worked her jaw, still staring at her feet. It seemed like she had to think very hard about what she wanted to say. It was one of the many reasons he'd loved her, though it must be exhausting to walk on eggshells around everyone.
After a moment's hesitation, she fished out a gold hairpin from the pocket of her petticoat. "I had to hide it from my mum so she wouldn't sell it," she said, handing it to him. "After all, this is your first gift to me."
"Gift sounds fancy," he chuckled. "I stole it." It was the first thing he'd stolen in his life.
"And you could've kept it for yourself. But you gave it to me," she said with a subtle grin. "And that was when I realised I was in love with you."
He moistened his dry lips while inspecting the valuable accessory. He wasn't sure what he'd expected from this talk.
"Do you still love me?"
But this was far from it.
"What are you saying?" he asked, appalled and confused.
"Do you still love me?" she murmured. "Because...I still love you, Harry."
Those were the words he'd wanted to hear many weeks ago. If this were then, he would have kissed her and said yes. But this was now. She was Gideon's wife, a fact that he still refused to accept, but he would have to, eventually. And there was still Reyna.
"You don't love me, Kenny. Not anymore," he heard himself say.
She released an exasperated breath. "Crow, I've never stopped."
"You married someone else."
"I thought you were dead!"
"It doesn't matter why you did it." His stare pierced her face. "You married someone else, Kenny. You don't get to fucking do this to us now."
He'd been told he looked intimidating when he got angry, but Kenny was never afraid of him. She took a step forward, catching him off guard as she laid a hand on the left side of his face. The touch was familiar, so he didn't back off, giving her permission to touch the other side. Her soft hands warmed his cool cheeks, and he shut his eyes for a fleeting moment.
"Let's start over. Run away with me."
Then he snapped out of it.
He stepped back. His heart throbbed when he looked into her tear-filled eyes. His gaze dropped to the ground so he wouldn't have to watch her cry. "You should go home. I-I'll take you home."
She shrugged him off when he reached for her arm. "Don't. I don't want to go home. I don't...I don't have a home. You're the only home I've ever known." She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her heart. "I should've defied my mother a long time ago. I should've fought for us. That's what I'm doing now."
"Please listen to me."
She didn't.
"I've been saving money for my sewing business. We can use my money to start over. Just like how we'd planned our future before you left–"
"Before you married someone else."
"Why do you keep saying that?" She laughed mirthlessly. "You despise Gideon! You always have since we were kids!"
"That didn't stop you from marrying him," he said, his voice even. "Let's go back inside and pretend this never happened."
His fingers closed around her wrist and pulled, but her feet refused to cooperate. "What's gotten into you? And don't you lie to me and say that you care about my marriage. Harry, you don't. You–" She sucked in a breath, closing her eyes. "Be honest with me, please. You don't love me anymore, right?"
Instead of answering, he tugged at her arm to get her to follow, but she shoved him away and stepped back, their eyes locked. A battle of mixed emotions was taking place inside his chest – anger, frustration, sadness, regret, guilt – but there was no sign of love.
In his mindless daze, he heard her whisper, "You're in love. But...not with me."
He didn't confirm or deny her accusation, instead, he asserted, "You can do better than Gideon, but I'm not the one."
She stayed silent for too long before asking, "It's her, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Rain. You're in love with her." Her lip started quivering when he didn't respond. "You said you'd love me forever..."
"You married someone else."
"Stop using that against me." She didn't shout, but her nearly toneless voice turned him stiff. "I don't love Gideon, and I couldn't sit around and wait for you to come back from the dead. You know my mother. So stop blaming me for everything just because you feel guilty."
She was right. He was guilty of making her wait, of leaving her in the first place. But the next thing she said was definitely to hurt him on purpose.
"I'm sorry to break it to you, but Rain doesn't have feelings for you."
"You don't know that." He was taken aback by how fast he'd replied, but her expression stayed the same.
"I do," she stressed. "Because she told me."
"She told you?"
"Back in the house. I asked her."
"She wouldn't discuss her feelings with a stranger."
"Are you saying that I made that up?" Her voice was dreadfully quiet, and then she lifted her chin, tears swimming in her eyes. "Ask her then. She told me to talk to you. If she had feelings for you and wanted you for herself, why would she do that?"
Another question he didn't answer.
"I'll walk you home."
Before he could seize her hand, she jerked away and pressed it to her throat as if trying to stop her ragged breathing.
"The last thing I need now is your kindness."
Those were her last words to him before she left. The hairpin was still in his hand. She hadn't forgotten it. It was just worthless to her now. Because what would you do to the love you had for someone who didn't love you back? You gave it away. Or better, you gave it back to them and let them decide what to do with it. They couldn't give it to someone else, so they had to keep it, and every time they looked at it, they'd be reminded of the heart they'd broken.
He idled outside, just peering at the hairpin until the door swung open. Gemma and Caleb stopped in their tracks when they saw him alone.
"Where's Ken–"
Gemma elbowed her husband as she interjected, "Ma is asleep. You should go check on Rain."
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, putting the hairpin back into his pocket.
Gemma shrugged as she said nothing, and Caleb hurried after her after wishing Harry goodnight. Harry's night was already terrible. He'd be blessed if it didn't get worse.
Crossing the dark living area, he lit a candle and padded to the pantry. He pulled the door open and found Reyna sitting alone in the dark. She didn't ask where he'd been.
His mind was occupied with the conversation with Kenny, especially what Kenny had said about Reyna. It could have been a lie to get back at him, which he deserved for breaking her heart. But he doubted Kenny would lie to anyone, especially him.
"Why are you sitting in the dark?" he asked before sitting down in front of Reyna on the dirty mattress.
"It's not dark," she said. "There's the moon."
Smiling, he glanced up at the little window above her head. "There's the moon," he said self-consciously.
Moments were wasted as neither of them said a word. He felt suffocated by this silence. Should he tell her about the conversation with Kenny? Should he ask her if it was true, that she'd encouraged Kenny to talk to him? Why was she so quiet? What was she thinking of? He opened his mouth, but her words got out first.
"My real name is Reyna. Reyna Callisto. Princess of Isolde."
His heart stopped for a split second. He felt like he was levitating before being slammed to the ground so hard it shattered his bones. A small part of him wanted to believe it was just her crazy sense of humour, but the rest of him always knew something was off.
No maid could ride a horse like that, or treat swords like toys, or have the softest hands in the world. She could've been anything. Just not a maid. However, his list of anything didn't include a princess.
He would have been just fine if she'd told him she was an assassin raised and trained in the castle, which had been his very first guess. But a princess? Hell, she wasn't even a princess. She was the princess.
"Please...say something."
"You lied to me," he said before his mind could form a proper thought. He couldn't even look at her right now.
"I had to."
"At first."
"I didn't have the chance–"
"You had plenty." He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his head into his hands. "We'd nearly died a hundred times and you waited until now..."
Until he'd fallen madly in love with her.
"Harry, please let me explain." Her voice was so gentle it stabbed him in the heart. "I was going to tell you when we get to my uncle's castle." Her uncle was King Edgar. She'd visited her uncle that summer when they first met by the river. It all made sense now. "I never meant for this to happen."
"For what to happen?"
She didn't answer.
She got on her knees and touched his arm. Her hands were cold, but they blazed his skin. His brain told him to pull away while his heart was yearning for her touch. He ended up sitting so still he wasn't sure if he was still breathing.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth sooner...I'm so sorry," she said. "But I will fix it. Once I get to the castle, you can have as much gold as you want."
She squeezed his arm, and his stomach shrivelled in agony. Was that what she still thought of him? That all he wanted was her gold?
"I'll find the best doctor for your mother. I'll have people look after her when you...when you and Kenny aren't here anymore."
He jerked his arm away. His eyes jumped to her pale face. 'I never meant for this to happen' meant she never wanted him to fall for her.
Kenny had told the truth. Reyna didn't love him.
Tomorrow, when she reunited with her uncle – the King – she'd be a princess again. Princess married royalty, not a dirty thief. She'd had the answer to his question all this time, and she'd led him on and made him believe he'd had a chance. They'd been a lost cause since the moment they met again in that dungeon.
All the things she'd let him do to her had been driven by lust. Not love. She was saving herself for someone worthy – a noble like her. Now that she'd thrown the truth in his face and forced him to accept it, she was going to leave him.
"You are your father's daughter," he scoffed painfully, stopping himself before he said that endearing name. It was reserved for Rain. And she wasn't Rain. "With all due respect, Your Highness, you used people for your advantage. My life might not matter, but Stefan, Thunder and Lightning could've died for you. So could the people in the brothel and those sisters in the woods–"
She was staring at her fingers, which were clawing at her thighs. "I know."
"No, you don't." The rush of adrenaline made it hard for him to think. "Your brother won't hurt you, Princess. It's my family who's in danger..."
And how was he going to choose between his family and her?
"Your family won't be harmed. I promise." Despite her ragged breathing and tears in her eyes, she managed to keep her voice steady. "I'll leave right now. You don't even have to take me there. Just give me directions and I'll go on my own. I won't bother anyone else."
It wasn't that easy. His anger toward her didn't change how he felt about her. It'd kill him to let her go, and it'd also kill him to keep her here.
He clutched her arm before she could stand up. "Stay. I'll take you there tomorrow." His throat felt stuffed as he tried to speak. "That was our deal, remember? You helped me reunite with my family and the love of my life. Now I have to make sure you get what you want."
Kenny wasn't the love of his life. He didn't know what had made him say that, but he felt awful afterwards. It was then that he understood why Kenny was always careful with words. Saying the wrong things was more damaging than not telling the truth.
"You don't have to worry about me, Harry."
The way she said his name made him weak. He would miss it when she was gone.
As he met her eyes, sadness had replaced anger. He suddenly became aware of how tight he was gripping her arm, so he withdrew his hand and dug his fingers into his palms.
"I don't," he said coldly. "All I ask of you now is to let me fulfil my promise to you. And then we won't owe each other anything else."
She gave a nod, facing down.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
"Harry," she said when he rose. "you can still call me Peach..."
Her voice. So sweet, so desperate, so–
Stop. Don't do that to yourself.
He gave a bow, pawing the door open. "Goodnight, Your Highness."
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"You are your father's daughter."
"You used people for your advantage."
"I don't worry about you. I just want to fulfil my promise."
I don't.
I don't.
I don't...
Reyna woke up with those words whirling around in her head. She wanted to believe it'd been a bad dream, but her headache and the cold space on the mattress let her know it'd been real. Harry knew who she was. And he hated her.
She'd cried herself to sleep over the things he'd said, and also the fact that there was nothing she could do to compensate. How could one redeem herself if her biggest crime was being her father's daughter? Southerners despised her last name. The name she'd been born with. If his family found out who she was, they would hate her, too. They'd lost so much because of her family. She'd been born with a silver spoon in her mouth; she wouldn't get it.
But she never meant to hurt anyone. Especially him.
She'd really thought he was different, that he would see past the crown on her head once he knew the truth, that he'd loved her, too. Sadly, he never did. He still loved Kenny. Whatever had happened between him and Reyna had only been lust.
She loathed that word. Lust. It was misleading and treacherous. Why couldn't you just want only one person for the rest of your life, like her mother and father? Reyna had never wanted anyone else but Harry. She might never want anyone one else ever again.
She hugged her knees to her chest, blinded by the light pouring through the window. At least she was going to see Uncle Edgar today without having to ponder over Harry's question – which had never been sincere – or pretend to be someone else anymore.
Determination brought her back on her feet. She found a white dress draped over the back of the chair with a note saying, wear this to see your uncle, signed by Gemma. It was worn out, but surely better than the rags she was wearing now. No one presented themselves to a King looking like this.
She wandered around the house after getting ready, but she found neither Gemma nor Harry. Where was he? He'd said it would take almost a day to get to the castle, so shouldn't they leave early?
"Ed, is that you?"
The solitary voice spun her around. In the kitchen doorway stood Harry's mother, who was smiling as usual.
"Uh...I think Ed just went out," Reyna said, hands on the back of a chair.
Harry's mother rolled her eyes. "He and my son must have gone to work early. Those two are crazy about their jobs. Have you met my son?"
"Yes, I have." She wished she hadn't.
"Well, he's very handsome. Do you agree?"
"Yes, ma'am." Reyna smiled obligingly.
"You have a beautiful smile."
"Thank you, ma'am."
The woman's expression dulled for a second and then lit up. "I know you! You're Peach."
"How do you–Did Harry tell you that?"
"I found you sleeping in our pantry last night, and I thought you were lost. I almost woke you up, but Harry said 'let Peach sleep, Ma' and took me back to my room. I had to remember your name. You see, I always remember Harry's friends' names. It's very easy because he doesn't have a lot of friends..."
So Harry still referred to Reyna as Peach when she wasn't around. She found herself smiling so big her jaw was aching.
"...Peach is a clever name, though you remind me of snow. You're too pale. Your mother must love peaches. We have a lot of those here in the spring..."
Reyna wiped the beam right off her face. He still called her Peach, only because it was a habit. He probably hadn't been thinking when the name slipped out of his mouth. For all she knew, he could be with Kenny right now, planning their romantic escape.
"Where is your mother? You should be with her. Does she know you're sleeping in our pantry?"
"My mother," Reyna said to her feet, "I lost my mother four years ago."
"Oh, dear," Harry's mother cried out. Without warning, she pulled Reyna into a hug.
Reyna felt tears sting her eyes. She tried to stop them, but they kept coming. Hadn't she cried her eyes out last night? Where did all these tears come from? She held her breath, fighting back the emotions only to end up bawling like a baby.
"There, there, sweet girl," said Harry's mother as she petted the back of Reyna's head. "Your mother is in heaven now. I'm sure she's very proud of her Peach."
No. Her mother must be ashamed of how selfish and foolish she was. Her mother had been a great princess before she'd become the Queen. All Reyna had done was cause trouble and cry about it.
Harry's mother broke the hug as she squeezed Reyna's shoulders and wiped her eyes. "Let's go to the market," she said brightly.
Reyna shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, ma'am."
It was a terrible idea. She didn't know her way around the village and wasn't familiar with these people. If something bad happened to Harry's mother, she would never forgive herself. He would never forgive her.
"Trust me!" the old woman insisted. "If you don't go with me, I will go by myself and you cannot stop me! But first I must visit my husband at the shop and—"
"I'll go to the market with you," Reyna cut her off. "Can you give me a minute to get my—" dagger "—coat?"
"Sure, Peach," Harry's mother said and patted Reyna's cheeks before going back to her room.
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The market was more packed than the last time Reyna had been there. Exactly what she was afraid of. She slipped into the sea of people, her fingers tightly wrapped around the old woman's wrist, her other hand clutching the handle of her dagger.
Harry's mother was probably the most cheerful and carefree person Reyna had ever met. She walked around with a smile on her face, greeted strangers like they were old friends and stopped by every vendor to admire the displays without buying.
Reyna had lost track of time since they'd left the house, but she guessed it was past noon now. The sun was beating down on them. Sweat had soaked the bodice of Gemma's dress. The market had become a maze where every vendor, house, and alley looked the same. Even the faces passing by were similar.
Her heart was fighting to break free from her chest. Her thoughts were as loud and chaotic as the crowd she was in. She wasn't used to the heat, and being squished between sweaty bodies only made it worse.
When she snapped out of it, one of her hands was holding the dagger, but the other one was empty. She closed her fingers around nothing and snapped her head in all directions.
Too many people. Too many smells. Too bright. Too hot.
She grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked so she wouldn't pass out, her breathing urgent, her throat dry; she needed water. No, she needed to look for Harry's mother. If she'd lost his mother, he would hate her for life. Maybe even more than he did now.
The sudden coolness at her hip stopped her in her tracks. It took her less than a second to realise it was the tip of a blade. Whoever was holding it against her leaned in, his voice rough when he whispered in her ear. "Your Highness."
She couldn't recognise the voice, but she knew her brother had sent him.
The stranger traced the blade to the centre of her lower back, gently pushing her forward so she could start walking. She swallowed dryly, her fingers tightened around the handle of her own dagger.
"Is my brother here?" she asked, her voice calm.
"No, Your Highness," she could hear a smirk, "But the King will be so happy to see you."
"Peach, someone's behind you!"
"No!"
Reyna shoved Harry's mother out of the way as she fenced the man's dagger with her own. Harry's mother fell to the ground. People screamed and ran in every direction.
This man was twice her size, his face hidden under a large hood. She aimed her blade to his chest, but he caught her wrist and tossed her to the ground like a rag doll. Sand blowing everywhere. She couldn't see. Her dagger. Where's my dagger?
A large hand hauled her up by the throat, lifting her feet off the ground. She started kicking violently, fingers dug into his arms which were hard as rock. She couldn't breathe. Everything was fading.
In desperation, she shoved her hands under the hood and tore the skin off his face with her nails. They both screamed when he dropped her like a sandbag. She could barely feel any part of her body, but she gathered her strength to move her hands around until she found her dagger.
Before she could pick it up, the man stomped his big foot on her hand. She buried it into her stomach, shrieking in pain. He stepped forward and was met with a kick in the crotch that sent him to his knees.
When she pulled herself up to finish him, a horse jumped out of nowhere and pranced toward them. She jumped out of its way and the man swiftly mounted his horse. He rode fast, disappearing in the distance.
She sorely collapsed on her back, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths as she gazed at the pure white sky. A scream tore through the stillness, but all she could hear was silence.
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When Harry came home on Lightning, he was met with a distraught Gemma, who ran from the house and told him their mother had gone missing.
"I went to the river when she was sleeping and she was gone when I returned," Gemma panted.
Harry brushed right past her into the house, straight to the pantry. Reyna was gone, but her sword was there and Thunder was still outside so she wasn't really gone.
"Ma is with Peach," he breathed, turning back to his sister.
"Oh God, what a relief," Gemma said.
That was only relief because she didn't know who Reyna was. A mad person and a wanted subject should not be wandering around town together. Harry was scared for both of them.
"You stay. I'm going to look for them."
"Look for them?" Gemma sounded aghast as he sidestepped her to get back to the living area.
The door swung open before he could storm out, and his mother ran straight into his arms, weeping hysterically. His stomach clenched with the force of his restraint when Reyna appeared in the doorway.
"What is wrong with you?"
"Harry," Gemma said, which he ignored.
"Have you caused enough trouble already? I don't fucking care who you are. If something had happened to our mum–"
"She's bleeding, Harry!" Horror tore through Gemma's voice, and he looked down. Blood. Blood was dripping down Reyna's fingers. Her right hand was shaking and bruised. So was every part of her body that wasn't hidden under the black cloak which she used to hide her wound. She was hiding it from him. Because she knew he would react the way he did.
With one step, she crumpled like a puppet suddenly released from their strings, and he lurched forward, catching her before she hit the floor. He called out her name but she didn't respond. Her blood dampened his shirt as he picked her up and carried her to his mother's bed.
He lay her down on her back. His breathing was rough in his throat as his fingers worked clumsily on the strings of her cloak to get it off. There were red marks around her neck; someone had strangled her. The white dress she was wearing was stained with the blood oozing from the fresh wound at her hip.
He tore a piece of the cloak, balled it in his fist and applied it on the wound with direct pressure. His voice cracked as he called for Gemma. "Get Caleb! He'll know what to do!"
Gemma nodded and ran out of the door.
.
.
.
"How is she?"
"She's fine now," Caleb told Harry and Gemma as he pulled up a chair to join them at the table. Caleb was a hunter and used to serve in the King's army (before his mother got sick) so he knew how to deal with such wounds. "The stab was accidental. Not too deep. But she needs to stay in bed a few days to recover."
"Poor thing. She was supposed to see her uncle today," Gemma said with a frown. She didn't mention it, but the way she glared at Harry made him feel ashamed for yelling at Reyna.
"Accidental how?" he asked Caleb. "You mean whoever attacked her didn't do it on purpose?"
Gemma furrowed her eyebrows. "Ma said she saw that man standing behind Rain and she ran over to help, but Rain pushed her aside. He was probably threatening her, but then Ma came and Rain took advantage of that moment to react, so he stabbed her by accident."
Harry said nothing as Caleb closed his arms around Gemma and told her he wouldn't let her go to the market alone anymore. However, Harry knew it wasn't just some sick bastard preying on helpless young women; Reyna could handle ten of those. This one, however, had almost killed her. But he hadn't, because Egon Callisto wanted her alive. What kind of monster would want this to happen to his own sister?
Egon Callisto. Just like his wicked father.
Reyna was better than them. No, she was better than everyone. Better than Harry. He'd yelled at her after she'd risked her life saving his mother and come back covered in blood. He had no right to get angry because she didn't love him back. She was too good for him.
He pushed away from the table and tightened his fists. "I'll go check on her."
When he came into the room, she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She watched him close the door, and the first thing she said was, "I'm so sorry."
He thinned his lips, staying silent.
"How's your mother?" she asked.
"She was scared, but she's fine now. She's eating in the kitchen."
Reyna placed her right hand on her chest, her shoulders relaxed with a sigh of relief. He focused on her bruised fingers before looking at the rest of her. His heart ached like someone was poking needles at it.
She pursed her lips as her face taut with worry. "Do they know who I am?"
"No, I haven't told them." He shuffled from one foot to the other, hands behind his back. "Do you want me to?"
She shook her head, a line appearing between her brows. When she got up on her wobbly legs, he dashed forward to catch her, but she raised her palm to stop him.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
She held the back of the chair by the bed to keep her balance, pointing to the door. "To the pantry."
He didn't think she knew she was pouting. As his eyes bored into her, he imagined himself kissing that pout, and quickly stepped back. He might do it if they got too close.
"Ma will stay with Gemma and Caleb. You can sleep here tonight," he said guardedly, moving his eyes to the bed and back to her.
"I've caused enough trouble already," she said to her feet. "Can you take me to the castle, please?"
He swallowed dryly, unable to wet his parched throat. "You're hurt."
She stood with her head hung and didn't respond, but her shoulders were rising and falling unsteadily. She was hiding her face from him as she burst into tears.
"I just...I just want to go h-home..."
He stood rigid in front of her. His chest imploded when a quiet sob burst through her throat. There was nothing heroic about making women cry, especially those you loved, and he really loved Reyna. So much he didn't know how to act around her as he was sure she would never love him in return.
That didn't justify all the terrible things he'd said out of anger or make him more deserving of her, because he didn't. But now he knew why he'd been acting this way. Maybe he could fix this. He'd rather be dead than live the rest of his life knowing she resented him.
"Please stay until you recover and I'll take you to the King." He reached for her arm, but she lifted it to wipe her eyes with the sleeve. "Please, Peach."
He didn't realise he'd called her that until she glanced up, her eyes big and glassy. "As soon as I get better, I'm leaving."
He nodded, his chest growing tight. "As soon as you get better."
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.
.
For the rest of the day, he didn't go too far from the house. He fed the horses, cleaned the stable, chopped the wood, and sharpened his and Reyna's swords in case Egon's men came back for her. He had checked on her a few times to make sure she was well-rested, but never actually entered the room as she might not want to be disturbed.
Evening came. He made his own dinner and ate it alone. He brought the food to her. She ate it in silence, left the empty plate on the table and he returned to collect it. Now it was late, and he should go to sleep, but he wanted to see her one more time. It was addicting. Seeing her. He imagined himself breaking into the castle just to see her from afar and giggled at the thought. It was silly. He felt silly.
He carefully opened the door and ducked into the doorway, only to find the bed empty and the blanket folded. There was no Reyna. He almost got his sword and ran out to look for her when his mind told him to check the pantry. There, he found her sleeping on the mattress on the floor. His shoulders sagged as he released a relieved sigh. Even when she was broken, she didn't want to take his bed.
He walked in, closed the door and got down on his knees beside her. As he ran his fingers across her cheek, she stirred slightly without opening her eyes. He gathered his courage to lean down and press a kiss to her forehead. Her skin was cold, although she was sweating through his sister's sleeping gown. He tried to unwrap the blanket around her, being extra careful so he wouldn't touch her wound.
Her eyes suddenly snapped open. She gasped in shock as he jerked away, sitting with his legs spread, knees folded. "I was–you...you were sweating...I just–" No, no, no, she thinks I'm a pervert. "I'm so sorry!"
She pushed herself up, her eyes too wide, taking over her face. Without warning, she crawled to his lap. With each knee on either side of his hips, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her cheek flushed against his. He felt his heart thumping in his ears as his body hardened before going limp.
When she started crying, he was spiralling out of control. He placed his hands on her back before gaining more confidence to circle both arms around her waist. He missed holding her like this. He'd missed her.
"What's wrong, Peach? Tell me."
She pulled back, their mouths only an inch apart. He felt sick for wanting to kiss her while she was crying, but his body and mind always reacted so strongly to her. He tried to fight it and cupped her face between his palms, bringing their foreheads together. "Shh, I'm here. Are you hurting?"
She shook her head fast, her nose wrinkled as she sniffled.
"Did you have a bad dream?"
She nodded.
"It's okay. You're okay." He pulled her back into his arms. Her breath warmed his neck as he kept one hand behind her head, stroking her hair, the other smoothing her back. She cried for a while before quieting down, her muscles relaxing, and her breathing steady.
"Do you want me to go?" he asked softly, and she shook her head against his shirt.
"All right. I'll stay."
He shouldn't, but he must. She couldn't be left alone to have more nightmares. He got on his knees, still holding her as he lay her down on her back, him on his side, making sure he didn't touch her wound as he drew her closer to him.
"Is this okay?" he whispered.
This time, she spoke. "Yes, it's okay," and then, "Thank you."
He hmmed into her hair and rubbed her back until she fell asleep. The moon was bright outside the window. He kept staring at it until his eyelids grew heavy.
.
.
.
Two weeks earlier
The door swung open and Egon stormed into the room, giving his guards a dismissive wave as he stopped at the end of the bed. The door fell shut again. Jo propped herself up on her elbows to look at him, but he motioned her to lie back down and came to sit on the edge of her bed.
"Your Majes–"
Before she could finish, he caught her jaw and tilted her head up with force. "You stupid bitch. You could've lost my son."
Her tears were already pouring. She tried to speak, but he pinched her cheeks tighter. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't done it on purpose.
She had woken up that morning with a pain in her stomach. She had screamed for help. The doctor had shown up in an hour and left after telling her the baby was fine. Egon had heard the news, but instead of feeling relieved that she and the baby were in good condition, he had accused her of trying to kill his baby.
She loved this child, whether it was a daughter or a son, even though her life depended on that outcome, even though the child would be his. She would never hurt her own child.
"I would never. Your Majesty, please," she managed to speak, sobbing hysterically.
He smiled madly at her teary face, then slowly loosened his grip. Her jaw was aching when he patted her cheek and gently lay her head back on the pillow.
"I've had a terrible morning, Jo," he said while stroking her hair. "I got the news from my men that they have found our beloved Reyna."
Jo tensed as she heard the name but didn't dare to move as he was still petting her, his other hand pinning her wrist down on the mattress. He was so gentle, but it felt like he might strangle her any moment. If it hadn't been for Willem's letter, she would've done it herself a long time ago.
The letter.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see it on her desk. She'd been too shocked after reading it last night and forgotten to put it away. If he saw it–
"She was hiding in a whorehouse, can you believe it? A princess in a whorehouse." Egon chuckled, shaking his head. "But don't worry. She didn't decide to become a whore. Though it might fit her now that she's spreading her legs for that poor bastard. Anyway, she killed my commander with the help of the thief and got away. Are you happy to hear that, Jo?"
Jo stuttered unintelligibly.
"Answer me!"
"I just want her to come back safely, Your Majesty!"
He smiled again and brushed the damp hairs out of her face. She was sweating though the fireplace had gone out a while ago.
"Do you know what I want?" he asked.
"What do you want, Your Majesty?"
"I want my son..." he rubbed her belly over the blanket "...to be safe. If he dies, you die, and Reyna also dies. That's a lot of dying, don't you think, Jo?"
"Y-Yes, Your Majesty."
"Good."
He pushed himself up from the bed, standing with his hands behind his back and glancing around the room. Jo was holding her breath, her entire body rock hard.
The letter. The letter. The letter. The–
The door swung open again and a guard rushed in. "Your Majesty!"
"Speak."
"Letter from Theros, Your Majesty."
King Edgar.
"Right on time." Egon waved the guard into the room, grinning at Jo.
"Would you like to read it here, Your Majesty?" the guard asked.
"Sure, why not?" Egon held out his hand and the guard gave him the letter. He then gave it to Jo. "Read it to me." Then he ordered the guard to leave them alone.
Jo was shaking but didn't object. She sat with her back against her pillow. Egon leaned a shoulder against a bedpost and watched patiently as she opened the letter and began.
Dear Nephew,
I'm profoundly sorry to hear about Reyna. Unfortunately, I have no knowledge of where she might be or the reason she'd committed such an awful crime. I understand that it's of great concern to you that she'd run away with a dangerous criminal. I will send my men to look far and wide for Reyna and write back to you as soon as I have news.
Your Uncle,
Edgar
Egon snatched the letter from her hands and put it into his shirt. His expression stayed neutral, not a sign of disappointment or triumph. "Do you think he's telling the truth, Jo?"
"I-I don't know, Your Majesty."
"You don't know what? Don't know how to think?"
She swallowed. "I think...I think he's telling the truth."
"Why?" he pressed on, his crazy smile gone.
"He would protect her at all costs. If she was with him, he wouldn't have written back at all."
He pushed his tongue into his cheek, not breaking eye contact with her. He must have expected this response from King Edgar. Egon was up to something again.
"I'm leaving now. Don't disappoint me, Jo," he said with one last look around the room; he hadn't spotted the letter.
As soon as the door shut behind him, Jo hastily got up, limped to the desk, and hid the letter in one of the drawers.
.
.
.
Present day
Queen Calanthe was distressed at the news from Isolde of Reyna Callisto going missing. Not because she worried or even cared about the little brat who had run away from home with a man – how tragic – but because ever since receiving the news, Edgar had been a bundle of nerves. And as his wife, she was allowed to be angry.
They had been married for almost a year. She didn't love him, because who cared about love? Her mother and father hadn't loved each other when they got married. The only thing that matter was, Edgar was the richest king in the South and always spoiled her with silk and jewellery. However, her life would have been better if she'd married someone she loved. If it hadn't been for Willem Callisto.
She used to live in a kingdom by the sea called Athera until Willem's army murdered her family and destroyed her home. Her parents had sent her to Theros before Willem's army attacked the castle; she was the only survivor.
Willem was more a conqueror than a king. He took things but never treasured them. Athera was now a wasted land because it wasn't large enough for his ego. He wanted Theros. Edgar wouldn't let him. Now he was dead, and his stupid son, who was Calanthe's age, had become King.
Isolde had cut all ties with Theros since Queen Meira's death, and when Calanthe married Edgar (he'd married her out of pity, she believed), she'd thought she would never have to deal with any Callisto again. But now that little brat had returned, and from what Calanthe had heard and seen, Edgar loved Reyna more than anything in this world. Even after hearing from Egon Callisto that his precious niece had betrayed her kingdom and killed a commander when she was found.
He had sent his men out to look for her in strict confidence. He knew she was coming to him and didn't want to scare her by carrying out a big search. Calanthe thought it was stupid to trust a criminal, especially a Callisto, but she'd been looking forward to meeting this infamous princess.
That was only until her husband was murdered.
It was a ruthless death. The maid who'd found Edgar in his chamber said there had been blood everywhere. He'd been on the floor, face down, bathing in his own blood. Someone had broken into the castle in the night and killed the King. Who could it be? Edgar was widely loved. Not only by his subjects but also the other kingdoms. Except for Isolde.
It was a trap all along. The story of a runaway princess. Those letters from Egon Callisto. Last night, Edgar had sent his guards out of his tower for no particular reason. Reyna must have come to see him in secret, killed him and escaped.
Calanthe watched with a cold expression as the guards carried her husband's body out of the chamber. Edgar had no son or bastard, so his Queen would inherit everything. Including the throne. Calanthe was ready for it. When she finally got hold of power, she would send an army to bring back Egon Callisto's head. But first...
"Guards!"
Two men rushed into the crime scene when she called.
"I want wanted signs distributed all over Hemera today once the King's death has been announced to the public."
"Who are we looking for, Your Majesty?"
"Willem's daughter. The missing princess."