Tale of the Heart Queen (Artefacts of Ouranos #4)

Chapter 9

C HAPTER 9

PRINCE RION

287 Y EARS A GO —T HE A URORA K EEP

R ion stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the lapel on his black jacket, wishing this day into oblivion. He’d been such a fool to sleep with that woman, but she’d been attractive and embarrassingly flirtatious, clearly eager to bed him.

Rachel had been giving him the cold shoulder again after he’d canceled another dinner when a skirmish had occurred along the kingdom’s southern border. She didn’t understand the pressure he was under and how much The Aurora needed his firm hand.

He’d wanted to make her jealous that night. Make her pay for her lack of . . . attention.

But then Meora had fallen pregnant. She must have bewitched him into the entire scheme, intent on joining him on his throne. His father was this close to dying from the Withering, and Rion was only biding his time, waiting for the inevitable.

He’d spent years acting in King Garnet’s stead, conquering territories in the name of The Aurora, but without the crown on his head, he could do only so much. Once his father was gone, he’d expand The Aurora’s army, redirecting funds towards training new recruits. He knew the Heart Queen, Daedra, was plotting against him and the other rulers were speaking of allying to overthrow his kingdom. If Rion wanted to secure The Aurora as the leading power in Ouranos, being its king only in name wasn’t enough.

He’d been so close to getting everything—his crown with Rachel at his side.

And then he’d fucked it up.

He’d tried to make Meora go away, but that damn Torch wanted the baby, and now he would become a father and partner, responsible for two people he had no interest in protecting.

“You don’t have to go through with this,” Rachel said.

She lounged in the corner, looking like every fantasy he’d ever had. Round curves and lush lips made for sin. Violet eyes and hair so dark it drank the light. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was clever and cunning. He could talk with her for hours about nothing and everything, her mind as challenging as a riddle that held him utterly captive.

“You know I do,” Rion said, tugging on the cuffs of his jacket. “I’ll lose my position as Primary and lose my crown. ”

Rachel remained silent, and he looked over. He saw the hurt and disappointment in her eyes, but if she really loved him, she’d never ask him to choose. He did love her, but how could he possibly be expected to give up what he’d been coveting for over five hundred years?

If he walked away now, Meora would remain here, raising the child until it was old enough to take the throne and Rion’s legacy would become a memory. It was another option. One he would never take.

“Okay,” she said, and he didn’t miss the shine in her eyes as she turned her gaze to the window, staring out at the snowy landscape.

For a moment, he considered leaving with her. What would it be like to give up everything and hand over power to a child he’d never met? Live with Rachel somewhere deep in the mountains where they might have children of their own. They could lead a simple and quiet life without these burdens.

But the idyllic picture with the woman he loved, body and soul, wasn’t enough. He was choosing his crown over his heart. That was what he’d always done and what he would do now. Though he’d considered his options, weighing each side with careful scrutiny, he’d always known on which side he’d fall.

Rion crossed the room and dropped to a knee, sliding his hands up Rachel’s thighs, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Don’t be angry with me,” he said, and she turned to look at him with a sharp gaze. What he saw in her eyes was a turbulent mix of so many things, most of which he could guess.

“I had to fall in love with a future king,” she said softly, almost wistfully, already speaking of him in the past.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You know that I can’t control who the Torch chooses.”

She shook her head. The problem was that she didn’t understand this need to rule and wear that crown. She hadn’t been born into the weight and expectations of royalty. “I know that, Rion. But you are making this choice. You are choosing yourself over me.”

The words hurt, as they were meant to, but not enough to alter his course. Walking away from that crown would ultimately hurt more. He knew himself well enough to understand that. It was true. He was choosing himself.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he replied, and she closed her eyes as she inhaled a deep breath. He considered asking if she’d be interested in one last kiss for old times’ sake, but he had a hunch he knew the answer.

A knock came at the door, followed by a muffled “Your Highness, they’re ready for you.”

Their time was at an end, anyway. They both looked over and then back at each other.

“I guess this is it then,” he said.

“I guess,” she replied.

“What will you do?”

“Before it’s over, I will be gone.”

“Where?” He couldn’t help wondering.

“You would ask me that?” she demanded with an arch of her brow .

“You’ll be provided for,” he said. “You have an open line of credit for whatever you need. Just write to my accountants.”

She nodded. “Yes, Rion. You’re buying me off. I understand perfectly.”

“Rachel . . .”

“Don’t,” she said, lifting a hand. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses. Bond to that woman. Take your fucking crown. I hope it keeps you warm.”

The firm set of her jaw told him she was done with this conversation. She’d always been very stubborn.

“Very well,” he said, attempting that last kiss. She turned her face so he was met with only the curve of her smooth brown cheek. He paused and then pressed his lips to it, allowing them to linger for a moment. She held completely still, blinking as he pulled away.

“Goodbye,” he said, receiving no response as he stood and headed for the door. He opened it and looked back, but she continued staring out the window, pretending he was no longer there.

Then he dipped his head and entered the hall, where a group of soldiers waited. They surrounded him, forming four corners, as they led him through the palace towards the throne room. The wide doors stood open, revealing a space already filled with hundreds of nobles who had arrived for the occasion.

Garnet, the Aurora King, sat hunched on his throne, his shoulders bent and his head hanging limply. His once robust frame had shrunk, his skin stretching over angled, protruding bones. Shadows darkened his eyes, and his hair, once thick and black like Rion’s, had been leached of its color, trailing in thin wisps of near white.

Garnet had been taken by the Withering decades ago, yet he still lingered, clinging to this shallow excuse for life. Rion couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just descend and put himself out of his misery.

He entered the room and stopped, surveying the crowd. He would convince his father to descend or find some way to bend the rules of the Torch. He was done waiting, and this bonding made the matter even more urgent. Without the ascension, this bonding was worth less than nothing. While he would come into his full power, all it really did was leash him to a woman—a family—for which he felt nothing.

A path ran through the center of the crowd. As he strode down it, he couldn’t help but feel he was headed for the gallows, heads bowing as he passed. He rolled his neck, trying to dispel the pinch between his shoulders. This was the decision he’d made, and now he’d live with the consequences. There was no other choice.

At the front of the room, his father and mother watched over the proceedings. They were thrilled about their first grandchild, but they wouldn’t have much time to spend with the baby—not if he had his way.

Meora, that woman , already waited at the front of the room, and he did everything he could to control the curl of his lip. It wasn’t that she wasn’t beautiful—that’s what had drawn him to her in the first place—it was that she was baseborn. Nothing but a lower-class woman who worked in a school. How she had even garnered an invitation to the same event was still a mystery, and he was sure it had been part of her plan to trap him. She must have talked someone into it. Planned the entire thing from the very start.

Her hand rested on her stomach, visible with the first indication that she was with child. He looked at it and then up at her doe eyes swirling with fear. She’d had the gall to entrap him, and now she was learning he wouldn’t simply be had. Now she would suffer for what she’d done.

“Your Highness,” she squeaked, dipping into a curtsy. Rion nodded, saying nothing as he took his place next to her before the Torch suspended in its bracket between his parents.

In front of them stood another woman—a High Priestess.

They didn’t actually need her for this, but these messengers of Zerra liked to insert themselves into the happenings of Ouranos and somehow arrive on the eve of anything important. Rion glared at her, and she gave them both a beatific smile as though she were the one in charge. He didn’t like these women. They always wanted something, and they made his skin crawl.

Maybe once he was king, he’d ban them from The Aurora entirely.

“Welcome,” the priestess said. “Today, we celebrate the bonding of two High Fae who hold destiny in their hands.”

She smiled at Rion and Meora, but he’d never felt less like returning it. He stared at his soon-to-be bonded partner as the High Priestess began the ceremony, willing Meora to stop existing. As the priestess droned on, he shifted from foot to foot, wishing they’d just get this over with .

But then, something else curled in the back of his mind. Something softer and lower.

Rion.

Another voice. He blinked, looking around him.

Everyone watched the priestess, their eyes glued to her as she waved her arms.

Rion.

Once more, he looked around the room, but it was obvious that no one else had heard it. If Rion didn’t know any better, he could have sworn it was coming from the Torch, but it was too soon. He was not a king yet.

The orange flame in its mouth flickered and sparked as the priestess continued enjoying the sound of her own voice.

Rion listened intently.

When nothing else happened, he shook his head, trying to focus on the proceedings. He must have imagined it. He was under a lot of strain.

Finally, the priestess was done speaking and she stepped aside, a hand sweeping towards the Artefact.

The Torch sparked, the flames turning green, then purple, then blue.

Rion stared at Meora unblinking, seeing the future stretching before him, uncertainty paving every step of his path.

But the pieces had been set. It was time.