Roar (Stormheart #1)(72)
“I’m sure my father would like to return home very much. My mother and brother too. But they are staying as a kindness to me. Even with my betrothal to Princess Aurora, my position here is tenuous at best. If left here alone, some might see me as a stepping-stone to taking the throne for themselves. And I’m not keen on being collateral damage in a coup. So, you see, we are simply doing what must be done to keep the kingdom stable.”
Most of the soldiers looked mollified. Taven did not. Cassius sighed dramatically. “I suppose we could let one of you in to see the queen. But you must not upset her. She’s been distraught for some time, and has only recently found any peace.” Cassius was fairly sure that was because his father was paying the maid to keep her heavily sedated, but of course they did not know that. He did not even know it for sure. He just knew his father too well.
The others remained in the hallway while he took Taven inside the queen’s rooms. A maid rose from her seat by the bed, the same maid Cassius had paid all those weeks ago for information. He was sure she had no qualms about taking his father’s gold. She curtsied and moved aside as they came closer. The queen lay abed, her eyes open but unseeing, fixed on the open window and the land that stretched on and on until the horizon.
Taven sheathed his sword and knelt beside the bed.
“Your Highness.”
Queen Aphra did not respond.
Tentatively, the soldier reached and touched her hand. It lay limp on the bed. No reaction.
“Do you see?” Cassius asked. “All is as I said.”
It did not stop Taven from glaring at him. “I’ve never seen her like this.”
“Yes, well, her only remaining family has never been kidnapped, has it?” he hissed.
Taven clenched his fists and turned away, back toward the bed. He took the queen’s hands once more and bent to kiss the ring on her finger. “Do not lose hope, Your Majesty. We will return Aurora to you.”
The queen blinked, her fingers tightened, and she said in a rasp, “They’ve killed her by now.”
Cassius stiffened, then moved closer to the bed. This was new.
“No. Don’t think like that,” Taven said. “She’s of far too much worth for them to harm her.”
The queen squeezed her eyes shut tightly and shook her head against her pillow, her already tangled hair mussing further. “The goddess is punishing me for my disbelief. She took them all, one by one.”
“Your Majesty, please. All hope is not lost.”
But Queen Aphra was no longer listening. Her gaze returned to the window, and her grip went soft. Taven tried to rouse her again, but this time not even her daughter’s name pulled her from her stupor.
Taven stood and marched across the room to Cassius. “My men are at your service for the search of Princess Aurora. Whatever you need. Just find her.”
The soldier left and, before Cassius followed, looked back at Queen Aphra. Cassius hadn’t meant for it to be like this. But he did not know how to fix it without Aurora.
Perhaps he too should reconsider his belief in the gods. How else could things go so incredibly wrong at every turn? After all, he had lost not just one bride now but two. He would not let the same hold true for kingdoms.
*
Locke thought he probably should have felt guilty, seeing the blood drain from Roar’s face when he told her where she would be riding now that her horse was pulling the Rock. But Ransom had put the idea into his head, and it had stayed there, tugging at his mind. And it did seem like a much better idea to have her ride on his horse with him than for her to squeeze into the already packed Rock with Duke, Bait, and now Sly.
Besides, if he could not scrape up any guilt for kissing her, there was little chance he’d feel any about having her pressed up against him on a horse.
According to their maps, there had once been a town a few hours east of their current location. No one could remember any specifics about it, so they just had to hope it had a blacksmith, but the first concern was finding out if the town was even still there.
And if having Roar on his horse gave him the opportunity to wheedle a little more information out of her, then all the better. He heaved himself into the saddle, then held a hand out to help her up too. She gave him that furious glare that never failed to make his blood pump a little faster. She ignored his hand and hauled herself up behind him without any help, and her tall, lithe frame molded against his back. Almost immediately, she shifted, trying to find a way to sit comfortably in the saddle while also touching him as little as possible. The saddle was large, but not meant for two people, so she would end up pressed against him sooner or later. He only smiled, and snapped the reins.
He hadn’t lied when he’d told her he didn’t understand her, at least not completely. She’d kissed him back, but he honestly did not know what she would do if he kissed her again—accept him or punch him. She was a bundle of contradictions, but one thing he understood all too well was her independence.
It reminded him of his own early days with Duke. The old man, whose hair had been shorter and darker then and only streaked with gray, had given Locke more than he could possibly hope for. A purpose. A home. It was on the road and ever changing, but it was more of a home than what he’d had in Locke. But even with the delirious happiness he felt with his new life, he had chaffed under Duke’s control. He’d been a scrawny child the last time anyone had ever told him what to do; and for every ounce of strength he spent holding on to his new life, he expended just as much energy rebelling against it. Hell, it wasn’t that long ago that he’d slipped away in the night to go after a hurricane alone when Duke had expressly forbidden it.