Gaius.
The merciless king Kentoria hated. The warmonger whose armies made allies squirm. The man she thought she’d watched die.
Thea swallowed hard, but it went down like broken glass. “I—I saw—”
“What you walked in on was exceptionally complicated. You would not have believed me if I explained.” His voice stayed low and steady, but she read the danger in his stance. Was that it, then? If she ran, he’d kill her?
She backed up a step, shaking her head.
“You may think of me what you wish. What I must do does not change.”
“You said you sought the king.” Not that he was the king. By the Light, had the very pretense by which they traveled been a lie, all this time?
“I did not,” he replied. He was patient. Calm. This wasn’t how he was supposed to be. Gaius was known for being angry, violent. Why couldn’t he be the version of himself she hated? Why must he still be so steadfast? He considered his words carefully before he went on. “I said a king yet lived, and that I would see him where he belongs.”
Thea struggled to remember. Was that all he’d said? How had she not seen through that? “The king in Samara, the man you killed—”
“As I said,” he interrupted, “the situation is complicated. I am willing to explain.”
But she didn’t know if she wanted to hear it, and that was a problem. She backed farther down the hall. He didn’t pursue her. Did she want him to? To refuse to let her go, to sweep her into his arms? The memory of his lips on hers and his fingers in her hair twisted like a knife in her chest.
“You kissed me,” she spat.
“Yes.” His shoulders relaxed, if slightly. “And I would again, if you would have me.”
Even as everything inside her splintered, the softness in those words lit a spark within her chest. She shut her eyes and tried to stamp it out. He’d betrayed her. Lied to her. Deceived her. How dare her emotions betray her, too? “Who are you?” she asked at last. Perhaps that question should have been where she started, the moment he’d walked out that door.
Again, he considered his answer before he spoke. “I am Gaius Gilgarion Rothalan, fourth son of Garren Rothalan and rightful king of Kentoria.”
She flinched at the middle name. If you mean to lie about your identity, do it by bending the truth, he’d said. Had he introduced himself as Gilgarion, rather than just Gil, she would have known. “And you are an assassin?”
“Yes.” The answer came simply this time. No dancing around the subject. “I am—was—my father’s blade.”
“His own child,” she breathed. How could a father expose his own flesh and blood to such cruelty?
“Yes.”
Thea no longer knew what to say. She stared at him for some time, her face as guarded as his, lest he see the way she crumbled inside.
All the times she’d looked at him and warred with feelings. All the moments at the end, when she’d wondered if she could convince him to stay—or at least come back when his mission was complete. She’d been a fool.
“Were you going to tell me?” she asked at last.
Gil—Gaius—hesitated. “I wished to.” Yet that wasn’t an answer, not truly.
“You kissed me.” She’d already said that, but her mind circled back to it without cease.
“Yes.” He’d said that before, too, but this time, his voice softened. Worry creased his brow, the most expression she’d seen from him since he’d stepped from that room.
She tore her eyes away and stared at the carpeted floor beneath her feet. A thousand questions warred for the right to leave her tongue. In the end, none of them did.
For a time, the hall was quiet. Rilion had gone; Ina had never resurfaced.
Just when she thought she could bear the silence no more, he spoke.
“For years, I have pieced together bits of information, locating the man who had my father and brothers killed. His last attempt was reckless, and now I know where he is. I depart for Angroth in the morning. Regardless of what happens to me, Rilion will see that you are given a home and a chance to start over.”
Thea couldn’t find her voice. All she did was nod.
“Had I the power, I would wipe clean your slate and let you return home to Kentoria, but I cannot promise that. This situation—I spent years building it, knowing my family’s killer would eventually come for me. The staging is precarious. I cannot reveal myself now, and I cannot guarantee I will live long enough to do so in the future.”
Absolving himself of responsibility. Asking her to understand, without telling her anything of substance. She should have been angry. Instead, she was only hurt. “You would go alone?”
“I have reached the end of Rilion’s goodwill, as I have exhausted the goodwill of others I once considered allies. My fight has cost others a great sum. He will not accompany me.” He spread his hands, resigned.
And he would not stay to explain. The need to understand pricked like a thousand needles, but Thea could not make herself ask.
Somehow, her silence told him everything. The corners of his eyes grew pinched. “I cannot ask you to go with me. I cannot guarantee your safety outside Danesse. You saw the raiders in the outpost village. I have no doubt they were meant to look for me.”
Knowing who he was, that did not come as a surprise. “And what if you didn’t ask?” By the Light, what was she suggesting? She hardly recognized the words coming out of her own head. He’d crushed her. Hurt her. Misled her the whole way. Going with him was out of the question. She was supposed to stay here, to start over, to forge a new life. Life was all she had left.
Yet after coming so far, it seemed a minuscule thing to risk. She had reached her destination, but there was nothing for her here. No home. No friends. Only a hope those things might eventually be—that she might still have the will to seek them after watching her heart walk away.
The realization hit her like a slap in the face.
“Take me,” she whispered. “Take me with you.”
“Thea—”
“Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me behind. Not after everything we’ve been through.” Tears hung on her eyelashes and she fought to hold them back. She didn’t want to cry. Not now, of all times, when she wanted to be strong. So many times, she’d given up her fight. She would not crumble now.
He stepped closer. The movement was halting at first, as if he was uncertain it was what she wanted. His second step was more confident, but his words were not. “I thought you wanted this. To be here, to start over—”
“I want you,” she blurted.
Gil’s shoulders slumped. “I cannot promise that. I cannot promise I’ll survive what I must do. How can I give you what I do not know I will possess?”
She couldn’t stop the tears. They grew thicker, blurring her vision. After all they’d done, how far they’d gone, why was she still so weak? “Then give me what happens before then. The you here, now—”
He swept in before she could finish and dropped a kiss upon her mouth.
Thea molded herself against him as his arms curled around her body, sliding her hand through the short hair on the back of his head. This was what she wanted. Where she belonged.
His arms were home.
“I dared not hope,” he whispered.
Neither had she. She scrubbed tears from her eyes with the heel of her palm and rested her forehead against his. He was too tall; he had to bend forward just so she could reach him, yet he bowed when she pulled him down as if he would have gone anywhere she desired. “I want this to be real.”
“I am the king,” he replied. “When we return, I can make it so.”
Her assassin. Her husband. Her king. Reality swirled so fast, it left her dizzy. “By the Light, Gaius,” she breathed. “Who did you kill?” It hadn’t been the king. He was the king. But he was not the king she’d known, not the man she’d recognized. He’d severed that man’s head, right in front of her.
He grew solemn. “Someone I believed I could trust. I was mistaken.”
“A decoy?” Nothing else made sense.
He nodded. “Selected to sit in my place, to execute my orders while I was left free to continue my search. So far as most of Kentoria knows, he was Gaius Rothalan. But there are members of the guard who know the truth, and the members of my council knew, as well.”
“They’ll rule in your stead?” She’d been so eager to escape Kentoria, she’d hardly considered how the country might manage without a king.
“As well as they are able, until my return. Or until Rilion notifies them of my death. I have left orders, and I pray my substitute was the only traitor in their midst.”
Thea shook her head as she tried to grasp it all. Light’s mercy, but her head was spinning. “How did you know? How did you find him?” And how much damage had been done to her homeland before he’d been caught?
“My sources led me back to Kentoria, where I discovered he had not executed all of my orders. Instead of working to strike an alliance with Ranor, he prepared for a coup, bolstering the Kentorian armies with men loyal to his cause. Whatever it may be.” He muttered the last beneath his breath. A hint of steel had returned to his eyes and posture, but his arms around her were still gentle. “His confession came with his dying breath, and now I know. The man I seek hides in Angroth. To kill him may be to incite a war, but I am ready.”
She exhaled hard. “I don’t understand. Why hunt him further? Why not wait for him to come to you?”
“Because by now, he is sure to have heard Kentoria’s king is dead, or he will hear soon. He will assume that means the coup was successful. So I carry his assassin’s head to his doorstep. He will soon learn he’s killed the wrong king.”
Thea shuddered. She’d tried so hard not to think of what he’d carried, and hadn’t been able to fathom why he’d kept it in his bag.
“I know you find it distasteful,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. Maybe he’d just read the shiver that ran down her spine. “If it means anything, I did not enjoy the process. But a message will be sent, and even if he slips away, I want—need—something to show I do not fear him.”
She made herself nod. She wouldn’t pretend to understand. “What must I do? How can I aid you?” The last thing she wanted was to beg he give her his final days, then become a burden that weighed him down.
“You will learn to fight. It’s not far to the heart of Angroth, maybe a third the distance from Samara to here, but it will have to be enough.”
She thought she could do that. Even now, she carried the dagger he’d let her borrow. The way it rubbed her bare leg was uncomfortable, and having it hidden beneath the skirt of her dress was inconvenient, but leaving it in her assigned room had felt wrong. “I’ll prepare to continue travel. The maid and I washed my illusory clothing. It’s drying now.”
“Good. Since your face is the one on that poster, you’ll need to remain unrecognizable.” He frowned as if he found that thought unpleasant. Perhaps he did; he twisted his fingers in her reddish curls and breathed deep.
Ah. So he did like the honeysuckle, after all. Thea’s face warmed. She’d wanted him to find her appealing. Now, standing with his arms draped around her and his eyes half-lidded as he inhaled the fragrance of her hair, she was embarrassed. Would she have done such a thing if she’d known who he was sooner?
He opened his eyes and stepped back. “Provisions,” he muttered as he snapped his fingers. “I’ll need to let him know.”
“Rilion?” she guessed.
“Yes.” He gave a wry sort of smile and turned for the stairs. He didn’t tell her to stay, so she trailed along behind him.
What would the prince say about her canceled plans? Would he say anything? He’d said little about Gil’s quest, or of Gil… Gaius… himself. Again, her cheeks felt warm. No wonder Rilion had choked when she’d identified herself as Gil’s wife.
They found Rilion in the stable, though why Gil thought to look there, Thea didn’t know. He stood, rubbing the forehead of a horse. The animal crunched on some treat, but already rooted at the prince’s coat pockets, looking for more.
“That’s enough for you,” Rilion muttered as he stepped back, guarding his pocket while the other horse present came and leaned over the stall door.
Gil said nothing, just stood in the stable’s doorway.
The prince slipped something to the second horse, then sighed. “She’s going with you.”
“Your assistance in settling her here may yet be needed,” Gil replied.
Rilion bowed his head. “We’ll hope it doesn’t come to that.” He stroked the second horse’s neck, then made a sound of frustration. “I didn’t bring enough horses.”
Thea peered past Gil’s shoulder, examining the nearby tack first, then the animals. “But there are two.”
“Yes,” Rilion said flatly.
She blinked. “Does that mean…”
Beside her, Gil gave one of his rare, but genuine grins. “It would seem so.”
Reluctantly, the prince nodded.
The party was now three.
