Rise of a Fallen Man (A Look in the Mirror #2)

Chapter 9

Ari

I yanked the curtains closed behind me, hiding Salas from view. Gem turned around the corner, searching for me. Her probing eyes found me in the dim light of the hallway.

“I needed a minute away from the noise,” I explained, briskly walking toward her.

But the lady chamberlain wasn’t so easily fooled. It took her less than a second to assess the disheveled state of my hair and the loose fit of my bodice. Next, her gaze flicked to the empty wine bottles standing by the wall.

“Is that so?” she asked flatly, her brow pinched in a frown. “Did you want a minute alone or a minute in the company of someone you know you shouldn’t be with?”

If I felt guilty about what had just happened between Salas and me, it was not because of Gem. My relationship with my cousin had deteriorated. Part of me missed what we used to have, but another part of me always knew that the relationship between us was never balanced. It’d only worked because I’d allowed Gem’s dominance, and it was destined to fail the moment I pushed back.

“I outgrew the need for a nanny long ago,” I snapped, brushing past her.

She caught up with me by the front door. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the palace. I’m not returning to the party.”

“Thank Goddess, you’re not,” she scoffed. “Not in that freshly fucked state.”

My cheeks flared with blush. I brought a hand up to my hair, trying to smooth it down. Shame crept into my chest, settling in next to guilt. I hated it, hated to feel ashamed of Salas or of anything that we’d shared.

I shoved the front door open.

“I’ll send the carriage back for you.”

“No need.” Gem followed me out into the courtyard. “I’m coming with you.”

The worst of today’s summer shower seemed to have passed, leaving behind the dark puddles on the ground. The air smelled like wet dirt now. The rain clouds had thinned but didn’t disappear completely, saturating the courtyard with a fine mist of drizzle. I welcomed the tiny droplets on my flushed face. The gloomy day was turning into a calm, pleasant evening.

I wasn’t looking forward to sharing the carriage ride with Gem on the way home. As short as the ride would be, her pursed mouth and determined stride didn’t promise an amicable company.

“Wouldn’t your golden-haired gladiator be upset if you left so early?” I asked, crossing the courtyard.

“He’ll survive,” she dismissed, gesturing to the servant by the gate to get our carriage. “And Falo isn’t golden-haired, by the way. His actual hair is brown. The gold comes from the lemon-camomile brew the healing witch makes for him to wash his hair with.”

I blinked at her, unsure about what to do with that piece of information. “I didn’t know that.”

“Few people do.” She smirked, climbing into the carriage when it had arrived. “Falo guards this secret rigorously. He only admitted it after I’d seen him with his pants off. Apparently, as wonderful as the witch’s brew is for the hair on his head, he’s afraid to use it around his cock.” She laughed. “And so, his crotch remains very naturally dark.”

I really didn’t need to know any of that. But I supposed I should be grateful it was her gladiator we were talking about, not mine.

Mine .

I sighed at the tug of wistfulness from that word.

My irritation wasn’t entirely Gem’s fault. I came to the gladiators’ quarters to check on Salas, to make sure he was okay after the animal attack in the arena. But it proved not enough. Seeing him wasn’t enough. Even him making love to me was not enough. The crumbs of time I got to spend with him were wonderful but wouldn’t satisfy me. I simply couldn’t get enough of that man.

I hated to leave. I felt jealous of every person in that room because, unlike me, they were free to stay in the same place where he was. I envied the witch who treated his injuries because I wished to be the one to take care of him. I wanted to change his bandages, to feed him dinner, and to kiss him goodnight when he went to sleep. I wanted it all.

My loss of control around Salas and the overwhelming need for him to be a part of my life scared me, and I had no idea how to deal with it.

“You fucked him,” Gem stated from her seat across from me in the carriage.

It wasn’t a question. She didn’t wait for a confirmation but for an apology.

I met her eyes but said nothing.

“You promised, Ari.” The bitterness in her voice sent another spasm of guilt through my chest. “You gave me your word that you would never see that man again. That was the deal, wasn’t it? That was the condition of my helping him. And you broke your promise.”

She was right.

Gods, she was so right.

But the taste of Salas’s kisses lingered on my lips. The sensation of him moving inside me was still too fresh and too wonderful for me to regret any of it.

“You have your gladiator, why can’t I have mine?” I challenged.

She scoffed. “You know why, Ari. But if you forgot, I’ll gladly refresh your memory.” She leaned forward, whisper-screaming at me, “Because he’s a whore and a criminal. According to the laws of our country—the country that you will rule one day by the law of the Crown of Rorrim that will grace your head—he should’ve been long executed. Every breath that man has taken for the past seven years has been a crime.”

I raised a hand between us, like a shield against her words.

“I’m not having this argument with you again.”

“You don’t have to.” She huffed in frustration. “Because nothing has changed since the last time we’ve had it.”

Her eyes shone with energy. Her cheeks flushed. Gem obviously felt strongly on the subject, and it wasn’t just the fear of losing her standing in the royal court that made her feel this way. She truly believed in the laws she worked to uphold. As a crown princess, I should believe in upholding them too.

I turned to the window, watching the tiny drops of moisture from the recent rain gather on the glass outside to trickle down in thin rivulets.

Blowing out a breath, Gem slumped back in her seat.

“Ari, this is just an infatuation, believe me. He was your first. Some women hold a special feeling for their first one. But that’s all there is. There will be more men in your life. You can have any other gladiator. Fuck, have them all after your marriage is done and settled. You wouldn’t be the first or the last queen to have lovers.”

In my mind, I agreed with Gem on one thing—I shouldn’t want Salas. I should finally propose marriage to my future husband and make the official announcement about our engagement. The whole of Rorrim and the entire world beyond had been waiting for me to do that. It was my duty. I owed it to the queendom that had become my home.

“It won’t happen again,” I promised flatly.

But could I stand behind my word? Or would it be another promise I had no power to keep?

I didn’t come to the gladiators’ quarters to do what I did. Sex had been the last thing on my mind when I rushed from the arena to see Salas. Yet when I saw him, when I felt his touch, when I held him close, it proved impossible to resist. It all spiraled out of control quickly.

Salas had become both my torment and my salvation. And I had to have him, healing and hurting at once.

Gem shifted forward and placed a hand on my knee soothingly.

“He’s so fucking lucky where he’s right now,” she said. “He has a safe place to live and great food to eat. He’s taken care of in every way. But that all can change quickly.” I glanced at her in alarm as she continued, “He needs to stay out of public attention, Ari. With the new stage name and with the costume that conceals his face, he can hide among the gladiators indefinitely. There are forty-nine of them now. Only those who stand out become famous.” She lifted a finger for emphasis. “Now think about how much more attention would he get if he were to become the favorite of the crown princess? How much scrutiny would the royal court and the city people subject the gladiator who captured the attention of the future queen? How deep would they dig into his past, trying to find out who he is and where he came from?”

The answer was—all the way. The courtiers were relentless in their gossip. A love affair of the crown princess would be too juicy a morsel not to squeeze every drop of drama out of it. The potential for a scandal was especially high since I was about to get married. The newest gladiator had an unknown past. It’d give a great motivation to many determined people to dig for more, possibly to the very bottom of it.

Aware of the effect her words had on me, Gem squeezed my knee. “Everything I have done for him would be for nothing. If you don’t care about me or your own promises, Ari, at least think about him. If you keep him in the spotlight of your attention, he’ll be the one you’ll hurt the most.”

BECAUSE OF THE LINGERING mist in the air after the earlier shower, the dinner at the palace was served indoors that night. All glass patio doors of the formal dining room were closed, and the air inside quickly turned hot and sticky.

I’d long learned not to display my feelings in public. I ate my food, smiled, talked to people whom I had little in common with on topics I didn’t care about. However, the turmoil inside me proved especially hard to contain today.

After Salas had barged back into my life—or more accurately, after I had barged into the gladiators’ quarters, tormented by worries and longing for him—he was all I could think about.

I had no doubt he held some feelings for me too. I had little experience with men, but I knew enough to realize that an indifferent man wouldn’t look at a woman the way Salas looked at me. He wouldn’t kiss me or hold me the way Salas did, if he didn’t feel at least a fraction of the affection I held for him.

A part of me wished to daydream about all the “what ifs.”

What if we could give these budding feelings a chance somehow?

What if I could whisk him away to my summer house in the countryside? Or to Father’s hunting lodge that he never visited? Or to Mother’s lake house that she used as a retreat from the city once every few years?

What if we could run away for good, leaving everything behind—his past and my responsibilities?

The direction that my thoughts had taken proved I must be losing my mind, and with it, any control of the situation. Spontaneity often bordered irresponsibility. I couldn’t afford that kind of behavior. Actions of the crown princess had far-reaching consequences with the potential to affect millions of people, not just Salas and me.

Gem was right, too. I was putting his life in danger by clinging on to him. The only sane thing was to let go. No matter how much it hurt.

As the dinner ended and everyone moved into the ballroom, I spotted Prince Leafar in the crowd. He was wearing a powder blue evening suit with his golden curls reaching the high embroidered collar.

Despite Prince Leafar’s grand claims and pledges of devotion, I knew the prince didn’t love me. He likely wouldn’t fall in love with me for a long time still, if ever. But if I were to marry him, he had every right to my respect.

I wasn’t born as the crown princess, but I had accepted that role with the best intentions to make the queen and the queendom proud of me and my choices. As such, I had to behave accordingly.

As the music played and the first couples entered onto the dance floor. I crossed the room toward Prince Leafar.

A hushed silence fell over the ballroom as I approached. The prince’s cheeks flushed violently as all attention turned to us. His handlers—the high-standing ladies of his court and his gentlemen-in-waiting—stepped back, like a tide receding.

“May I have a minute of your time, my prince?” I extended a hand to him.

“Of course, Your Highness,” he replied, somewhat breathlessly.

As soon as people realized this wasn’t an invitation to dance, they inched closer, eager to find out the reason for me singling the prince out. I couldn’t completely escape their attention, of course, but I could at least get us a few moments of relative privacy.

“Would you care to join me for a walk in the gardens?” I asked Prince Leafar.

“A walk?” He blinked, then glanced over his shoulder at his entourage for guidance.

My request clearly didn’t fit into the script he’d been fed, and now he was confused about how to proceed.

“Right there.” I gestured at the stone patio behind the doors that led into the palace gardens. “I promise we’ll stay in the plain sight of everyone in this room. There is no need to bring a chaperone.”

“Of course.” He nodded politely, tossing a furtive glance at the grand duchess, his aunt, who stood just a half-step back to our right.

The grand duchess inclined her head in approval, and the prince finally took my hand.

I led him to the closest set of ornate crystal doors. Not waiting for the servants to get to us, I flicked the heavy bronze locks myself, then pushed the two doors wide open.

A warm, humid air rushed in from the outside, banishing the heavy fumes of wine and sweets served inside and the musky cocktail of the gentlemen’s cologne.

“The rain has long gone,” I said, stepping out onto the patio. “I thought you might enjoy getting some fresh air with me.”

“Every minute spent with Your Highness is an honor and a pleasure.” Leafar gallantly offered me his arm.

Resting my hand in the crook of his elbow, I led him off the patio.

The sun had set already, but strings of golden lights illuminated the paths between the flowerbeds.

I turned east at first. But as the heels of my dance shoes clicked against the bricks, I remembered that the path in this part of the gardens was damaged last winter. It’d been repaired that spring. The summer rains might’ve washed Salas’s blood off the bricks by now. But I couldn’t bring myself to have this conversation with Leafar while walking on the bricks that Salas had carried on his back.

“This way, please.” I turned west instead.

The prince followed me without questions.

All the patio doors to the ballroom opened at once. As servants secured them in the open position, the courtiers spilled out from the crowded room. No one dared follow us into the gardens, but they didn’t hide their curiosity, openly watching us from the patio.

I didn’t mind the attention. Prince Leafar’s reputation was safer this way. No one could accuse me of taking advantage of him or compromising his virtue when hundreds of witnesses were watching our every step.

“Do you miss home, my prince?” I asked him.

“As my homeland, Olakrez Queendom will always hold a special place in my heart, no matter where life may take me. But I grew up knowing I will have to leave it for good one day.”

It was a good answer, but judging by how smoothly it left the prince’s lips, he must’ve practiced answering this question.

“Do you not have something you’ll miss when you leave? Special places? Friends? Pets, maybe?”

His brow furrowed for a second, but his voice came out just as evenly as before.

“Pets can possibly be brought along. New friends can be made. And special places can live forever in one’s memories.”

Another smooth, practiced answer. The conversation with him was easy. Easy and useless. We could spend an eternity tossing back and forth the canned questions and answers from our expansive collections of small talk tools and learn nothing about each other.

As we passed by a bush of fragrant jasmine, the prince tore a small bunch of partially opened ivory-white flowers.

“Do you like jasmine, Your Highness?” he asked.

“I do. I enjoy the smell.”

He offered the flowers to me, and I accepted.

“Tell me about your childhood.” I twirled the branch with the flowers in my free hand.

“There is not much to tell,” he replied modestly. “But if Your Highness has questions, I’ll do my best to answer them all.”

What would drive him out of this polished shell that had been manufactured for him by his handlers? I knew what I had to do tonight, but I wished to get at least an idea of what kind of person Prince Leafar really was. It saddened me to think that there might be nothing real left behind his perfect behavior and well-rehearsed answers.

“What was it like to grow up as the youngest in your family?” I asked, not giving up. “Were you picked on by your sister? Did your parents spoil you?”

His facial features shifted again, but only for a fraction of a second. His eyebrows twitched, but he replied smoothly, just like before.

“My older sister is the Crown Princess of Olakrez. However, our Mother, the queen, has always treated us equally.”

“I doubt that,” I said, maybe a little more snappy than I should have. “Royal children are never treated the same. You didn’t have the same opportunities as your sister. From the day you were born, your future was to leave your country, whereas hers was to lead it. Everything in your upbringing must’ve reflected that.”

“Well, I...” He blinked, biting his lip. For once, the prince couldn’t find any words in his pre-approved collection of answers.

A part of me felt sorry for him, but I had finally spotted a crack in his veneer and had to pry it open wider.

“I know what it’s like to have a queen for a mother,” I said. “She’s never just your parent. The country often needs her more than her children do. But I was sixteen when my mother adopted me. I was old enough for her to teach and mentor me for my future role as her successor. We spent a lot of time together and grew close. Who was there for you when you were a child?”

“Um...” He twisted a silver button on his suit coat. “I have a stepfather. He is a strong, handsome man.”

It was a well-known fact that Prince Leafar’s biological father was executed for treason when the prince was only seven, but I didn’t want to probe him about the tragedy. I hoped to open his heart with my questions, not to re-open any of his old wounds.

“I’m glad you’re close with your stepfather.”

“I didn’t say we were close.” The muscles in his jaw moved before he schooled his expression back into a polite semi-smile. “Though, the king consort certainly is a man worth the admiration of many.”

“Many? But not yours?”

“Mine too, of course,” he said quickly.

The prince lied. I could swear on everything I owned that Prince Leafar didn’t have a great relationship with his stepfather, despite pretending otherwise, probably for as long as he knew him.

I slowed my steps, then stopped completely, because he seemed to be barely dragging his feet along as our conversation progressed.

“What is waiting for you back in Olakrez if you return?” I asked.

He ran his free hand up the front buttons of his suit coat, then tagged at its stiff collar.

“Disappointment, Your Highness,” he blew out the words with a quick breath. “The queen’s disappointment is the only thing that awaits me if I fail to secure your favor.”

“It wouldn’t be fair on her part. There are currently three candidates for my hand. No matter what, two will have to return to their homeland unwed.”

“Her Majesty made it very clear, however, that I couldn’t be one of the two returning. She made plans and put hopes in me, and she hates changing her plans or having her hopes crushed.”

“But what are your hopes and plans? What future do you wish for yourself?”

“Me?” He looked at me as if I asked him if he could breathe fire. “A prince’s duty is to serve the crown. That is the only fate I have.”

I could argue with that. I could tell him he was a person before being a prince. A person should have feelings and aspirations of his own. But his words resonated with me in the way I didn’t expect.

I too had a duty to my country. I’d been searching for something in common with Leafar when it was right there in front of me all along. The thing that could bind us was solid and real—our duty.

The prince stared at the path in front of him. His long pale fingers fidgeted with the same jacket button that he hadn’t torn off yet only by a miracle.

“I was seven when my father was executed,” he said in a hollow voice. “I saw his severed head roll down the scaffold. Mother made me watch so I would remember what fate awaited a traitor. She said I could never forget it, and I didn’t.”

Compassion squeezed my chest. All of us seemed to wear some kind of mask. Leafar hid behind the mask of a golden prince, the youngest, cherished son of a powerful queen. He wore it well. But I was grateful to him for letting me peek behind it.

“I’m so sorry, Leafar.”

He spun to face me. I dropped my hand from the bent of his arm, but he caught it and squeezed my fingers in his.

“I would make the most loyal husband that Your Highness could ever have. I would follow the path of marriage dutifully because I know the price of a misstep.”

“Fear is not a good reason to get married, my prince.”

“But what reason could be better?” He shook his head. “Fear is one of the strongest emotions and one of the best motivations to do the right thing.”

“To do right by whom?”

“By your spouse, your country, and the crown. For those born into royalty, the right thing to do is our duty.” He squeezed my fingers lightly, emphasizing each word.

These might be the words taught to him since the day he was born, but the conviction behind them was his own. The prince genuinely seemed to believe in what he was saying. His eyes shone with passion, and his voice rang strong.

“Duty,” I echoed.

Duty was the sort of prison with no honorable way of leaving it, no matter how much time had been served.

Well, I finally had to do my duty as well.

“Prince Leafar,” I looked up, finding his eyes. “I will announce my choice at the ball tonight. But I wish to ask you in private first. Will you do me the honor to be my husband?”

He swayed with a soft gasp, making me fear he might pass out. But he was of royal blood, after all. He was taught to ignore his feelings in favor of acting in the way expected from him. And right now, he was expected to accept my proposal in the most dignified way, no matter how thrilled or relieved he might feel.

“It will be the highest honor to become your husband and your future king consort, Your Highness.” He sank to one knee, holding my hands in his. “I’ll strive to be the best spouse a queen can have. From now and always.”

Cheers and clapping soared from the patio into the gardens. The court guests couldn’t hear our conversation, but they obviously had been watching us closely and didn’t miss the prince going down on one knee in acceptance of my proposal.

The two of us stood on the path between the flower beds of fragrant rose bushes framed by jasmine flowers. The strings of golden lights illuminated us.

The scene must look beautiful, only the hollow emptiness inside me felt ugly.