The Foxling Soldati (Soldati Hearts #2)(25)
“You are not now, nor have you ever been, a coward, Rayner,” Ezra replied softly.
“I’ve lost him forever.”
“You must have faith.”
“Faith? What is there to have faith in? If I had made my feelings known sooner, perhaps Toka would be in my arms instead of….” Rayner closed his eyes, unable to continue. He would not allow that son of a jackal to stain the memory of his beautiful foxling. Rayner would remember Toka as he’d last seen him, full of life, love, and joy. In his mind and heart, Toka would forever be smiling, amber eyes glowing with mischief and adoration.
A gentle hand on his head soothed his growing ire.
“I’m sorry I can’t do more,” Ezra murmured.
“You have done all you are permitted to, my dear friend. Thank you.” As per Soldati law, Rayner was to heal of his own accord and not by anyone’s hand, certainly not a healer such as Ezra. He was not permitted to shift into his tiger form to accelerate the process either. His body was already on the mend, but it would take hours still for the wounds to completely heal, and at least a couple of days for the scabs to fall away, leaving behind a roadmap of scars, an eternal reminder of what he’d lost.
“Rayner….”
Khalon’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he pushed himself to sit up despite Ezra’s gentle pleading he not move. His wounds burned as his muscles shifted beneath his torn flesh, but he would not look weak in front of his king. He sat and rolled his shoulders back, hissing at the pull of torn skin. Ezra quickly dabbed at the newly bleeding lesions.
“Rayner, please. You are my brother.”
Rayner shook his head. He would shed no more tears for the man he’d called brother. He didn’t want to hear those words from Khalon. It was too little too late.
“All I ask is that you understand—”
“Understand?” Rayner’s voice was quiet, his strength of body and heart abandoning him. “I understand that had it been Riley, I would find myself at the frontlines of a war, not merely because he’s a prince or a Soldati, but because he’s yours. How can my love for a foxling servant compare? To you, Toka’s life is worth less than the whim of an arrogant, spiteful king. Now, if you will excuse me, Your Majesty, I would like to grieve my loss alone and in peace.”
Khalon flinched at Rayner’s harsh words but said nothing. He nodded and left.
“Rayner—”
Rayner put a hand up to stop Ezra. “Thank you for your help, my friend. I would like to rest now.”
Ezra looked as if he wanted to say more. Instead he nodded and headed for the door. “Please notify me if you should need anything.” He closed the door quietly behind him, and Rayner lay down. Within minutes, a gentle knock sounded, and Rayner bid them enter.
Sansone peeked inside the room. “Sir, I have what you requested.”
“Thank you. Enter, please.”
Sansone entered the room with a large rectangular basket in his arms. He placed the basket at Rayner’s feet beside the bed, his eyes filled with sadness. “The items you asked for. As you requested, Toka’s bedchamber will remain untouched until you or His Majesty request otherwise.”
“Thank you, Sansone.” Rayner managed a small smile and once again thanked the foxling. He waited until Sansone had gone before crouching down in front of the basket. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he let his breath out slowly through his mouth, then unfastened the lid. He swallowed hard as he caressed the cream-colored fabric. He removed it from the basket and stood. How could this have happened?
Rayner sat on the edge of the bed and held the soft tunic to his cheek. Toka’s rich foxling scent invaded his senses and gripped firmly at his heart. He lay down on his stomach, so as to not stretch his wounds, the tunic held close. His exhaustion was all-consuming, and though his heart lay in shards, his Soldati soul refused to give in to despair. He would find a way to free Toka and make that bastard Pavoni pay. The man would soon regret ever having laid eyes on Toka or crossing Rayner’s path. Rayner was far from done.
THIS WAS his life now.
Toka stared up at the giant stone bear statue beside Pavoni’s extravagant throne, an exact match to the one on its right. The Dell’Orso throne room was much like the rest of the castle and its king. An imposing beastly thing, cold, harsh, and uninviting with jagged edges and sharp corners capable of slicing through his skin if he wasn’t careful. The Dell’Orso castle had been carved into the side of the colossal Orso mountain centuries ago. Toka had woken up just as the king’s portal spit them out into the wretched kingdom outside the castle gates, and Toka stood long enough to gaze up at the mountain. He supposed he should be grateful Pavoni possessed the power to summon portals, or they would have been traveling for days across the Soldati Realm to reach the border of its neighboring kingdom. Why prolong the inevitable?
The castle stretched into the sky, its peaks vanishing into the gray clouds. Perhaps once it had been a kingdom as resplendent as that of the Soldati, but now it was everything the Soldati Realm was not. Created to intimidate outsiders rather than welcome them, a boast of nobility and power with brown-and-black flags trimmed in white snapping in the wind from every soldier-occupied parapet. The whole place and everyone in it appeared ready for war, much like its king.
“His Royal Majesty, King of Dell’Orso, King Pavoni.”