Two people were listening.
Two people who deserved the truth.
But it seemed that, lately, all Rafe knew how to do was lie.
He laughed, a hearty, throaty sound that traveled up his chest and spewed out into the world dripping with deceit. Then he slapped Xander’s shoulder, giving him a light shove, as though he’d said the funniest, most ridiculous thing in the world. “In Taetanos’s name, Xander, sleep deprivation is getting to your head. If you’re going to talk nonsense, just leave me to my isolation. The only mate I spend my days longing for is the sky from which you’ve banished me.”
Xander didn’t move at first. He just maintained a contemplative stare. Finally, he released a breath and the barest hint of a smile rose to his lips.
“Then by all means, back to it,” he said, nodding toward the balcony.
The words were strained. Rafe knew it. Just like Xander had known his laughter was fake. There was something unspoken hanging between them, invisible yet all too real.
An awkward silence permeated the air, even after Xander left. It was interrupted by the same scuffing of boots on stone, a swish of fabric, and a soft sigh in place of words. Because there was nothing left to say but—
“Go,” Rafe ordered, his voice grave.
“Rafe—”
“Go.” A little louder this time. A little more forceful. His body quivered with the desire to turn and face her, but he feared that if he did, all his resolve would wither away, burned to ash by the fire in her eyes.
“Please don’t—”
“You're my brother’s mate,” he said, not recognizing himself in the tone—a flat, cold, unfeeling thing. “And whatever work we had is done. Go. Now. And don’t ever, ever come back.”
She didn’t leave, not right away.
She stood there, staring at him.
And he stood, staring at the wall.
Just when he thought he might explode from the pressure, a rush of air pushed against his back, followed by a cold breeze blowing through the now-empty opening. He turned, rushed to the balcony, and crushed the curtains, closing them so tightly his fingers went numb.
52
Lyana
It took three days for Xander to finally approach her about the things she’d overheard. Three days of long meetings with the advisors, of appointments with the seamstress, of meals with the queen, of fleeting glances and nervous laughter and her heart leaping into her throat every time they had a second alone together.
In the end, they were in his study when he finally found the courage to look up from his books and say, “Lyana, could I talk to you about something? Just for a moment?”
She’d been standing by the window, looking down at the flurry of activity in the city below. The buildings that had crumbled were already being rebuilt. The street had been cleared. But what had caught her eye were the pockets of color at the base of each spirit gate. The flowers were made even brighter by the monotone backdrop of ebony arches and gray stone, and they were growing larger with each passing day. She’d spent the prior week healing everyone she could, and the people were rejoicing in what they believed was Taetanos’s strength. But now the celebrations focused on something else—the upcoming mating ceremony of their god-blessed prince and princess.
His voice jolted her from her ruminations, and she spun. “Of course. What…”
The second she laid eyes on him, the words died upon her lips, because she knew. The moment was here. The one she’d been dreading for days. The one she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid. He was watching her with his head lowered, pale skin giving him away as his cheeks flushed pink. There was a box in his hand, though she could hardly see it, he held it so tightly between his fingers. And there was such a hopeful look in his eyes, hesitant yet hopeful.
Lyana swallowed.
She forced a relaxed smile to her lips even as her stomach muscles clenched. “What, Xander?”
“Nothing, I just—” He paused and took a few steps, crossing the room as he pushed the box into his pocket. Lyana remained motionless as he slipped his fingers between hers and stared deep into her eyes, searching for something she wished were there but knew wasn’t. “The ceremony is only a few days away, and I just wanted to tell you— I mean, I hope you know by now that you’re very special to me. And to my people.”
“And you to me,” Lyana replied. The words were true, but twisted, because she knew he would take them in a different way than she meant. He was special to her—so kind and caring and warm and charming, a wonderful friend and companion. But he was speaking of a different sort of special, a meaning she wasn’t prepared to give.
“The vows we’ll be saying,” he continued, tenderly rubbing his thumb over her skin. “I’ll hold them closer to my heart than any pledge to the gods I’ve ever made before. I’ve spent a lot of my life thinking about this day, wondering what it would hold, who I would share it with, and I want you to know, I’m happy it’s you. And I’m happy we got this chance to get to know each other before the ceremony, so that when the vows are spoken, they won’t just be empty words, but true and honest promises to each other.”
Her throat was dry. Beneath her skin, her pulse pounded, a drumming she was sure he must have felt.
“I—” She licked her lips, trying to find the words, but there was a vise clamping down on her throat. The bookshelves in the room seemed to close in as the windows disappeared, and everything became very dark as her head swam.
Xander didn’t seem to notice. He released her hand, cutting off her tether to the world, and reached into his pocket to retrieve the box. When he pressed a button, her vision started going blurry, but it was clear enough to discern the glittering emerald as the lid sprang open.
“I found this among the family heirlooms.” He fumbled with the box. Using his leg as an anchor, he held it down with his right forearm and slid the ring free with his left hand. “It reminded me of you. And I’d like you to have it, because…love is giving a piece of yourself to someone else and trusting them not to break it, and I’d like this to be a symbol of the piece of my heart I’ve given to you.”
The words were so like the ones she’d heard Rafe use the day before.
Similar, and yet so different.
From Xander’s lips, with Xander’s voice, they didn’t pierce the way Rafe’s had. They were just there, filling space, leaving a sick feeling in her gut as they lingered, growing larger and larger, cutting off air.
He slid the ring over her finger.
The band was slightly too big, and it wobbled unsteadily. Xander folded her fingers to keep it in place. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly, the way a true gentleman would, lavender eyes simmering so brightly she ached to turn away.
Her mouth fell open. Her lips parted and twitched. Pressure surged up her throat, words that wouldn’t come.
He waited and watched.
Now would be the perfect time to give him a little bit of her, to open her heart, to maybe send a sprinkle of warm magic into his skin. Xander would keep her secret, just like he kept Rafe’s—of that Lyana was certain. He was too good a person not to. There was even a chance he would still look at her the same way, as though she were the dawn of a new day, the beginning of something wonderful. If she told him the truth, if she gave him that chance, maybe his words wouldn’t feel so empty, maybe their vows wouldn’t seem so daunting, maybe the future wouldn’t either.