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

Chapter 35

C HAPTER 35

RION

232 Y EARS A GO

T he letter dangled from Rion’s fingertips, a missive on parchment sent to tear out his heart.

Rachel was dead.

After so many years of wondering where she was, he’d finally found her. Only it was too late to do anything with the knowledge.

She’d thrown in her lot with the wrong sorts of people. Gangsters who prowled the underground lairs of Tor, dealing in illegal trades of arcturite while also indulging in gambling and the skin trade, all of it conducted outside the confines of the law.

Rachel had been used as bait against a gang leader and taken as a hostage. When her side failed to deliver on their rivals’ demands, they slit her throat. And that was it. She was gone.

Rion covered his eyes, his head hanging between his knees. His chest rattled with the uncomfortable weightiness of a heart that could never be put back together. His fingers were numb, and his stomach heaved like it was trying to turn itself out.

Rachel was dead.

He looked up, staring out the window, watching the lights ripple across the sky. Tonight, they brought him no comfort. Tonight, they left him feeling as empty as his soul.

He stood up and approached the window, pressing his forehead to the cool glass.

A tear, one long buried, slipped down his cheek. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wept. Probably when he’d been a child.

He turned away and walked to the bar cart, not bothering with a glass, as he picked up a full decanter and tipped the entire contents down his throat. He drank it too quickly to notice what it was. He didn’t care. All he wanted was to numb this knifing pain searing through his limbs.

When he was done, he tossed the decanter aside, barely registering the shatter of glass as it hit the floor. He blinked, waiting several long seconds for the warmth of the drink to filter through his blood. His head swam, and he closed his eyes, trying to focus on remaining upright rather than the dull pain throbbing in his chest .

Rachel was dead.

What had he hoped for? Why had he clung to the idea that someday they’d find their way back to one another? He’d chosen his crown over her, but it had never filled the space she’d left. He wanted to hide away inside a deep cavern in the darkest recesses of the mountains. He expelled a long breath as his body curved inwards, trying to disappear into itself.

A joyful screech outside drew his attention, blasting through the headache already forming behind his eyes. Rubbing his temples, he sucked in a sharp breath when another squeal bounced against the inside of his skull.

He stormed across the room, whipping the door open.

Amya ran around in circles on her chubby little legs while Nadir chased her, pretending to trip as though he was having trouble keeping up. She squealed when Nadir finally scooped her up and peppered her with kisses.

Meora stood watching the scene with her hands clasped and a warm smile on her face.

Over the past few years, Rion had found it in himself to let her in, attempting to carve out a sliver of happiness with this family that he’d been given no choice but to accept. Though he’d never feel the way he had about Rachel, he’d found a corner of his heart where he’d allowed himself to release the hold on his rage.

He’d tried to make the best of it. Tried to forget what his heart truly wanted, but watching Meora now, that old anger bubbled to the surface, reminding him that this was not the life he wanted. Rachel should have been the one standing there looking over his family, healthy, safe, and whole.

All three stilled when they caught sight of Rion standing in the doorway, his frame hunched as he gripped the frame, the news of Rachel’s death crumpled in his hand. Amya stared at him with big black eyes as he stalked towards Nadir.

“Give her to me. I’ll play with her,” he slurred.

“You’re drunk,” Nadir said, his voice cold.

“I’m fine.” He reached for Amya, but she screamed, throwing herself against Nadir and wrapping her little arms around his neck.

“Amya,” Rion said. “Come to your father.”

He grabbed her by the waist, but she screamed louder, the sound echoing off the walls, making his head throb like a knife wedging into his brain.

“Amya!” he said, gritting his teeth. “That is enough.”

He heaved her out of Nadir’s hold, but she screamed and clawed and scratched him, her tiny hand gripping Nadir’s shirt so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Na-eer!” she screamed. “Na-eer! I want Na-eer!”

Rion struggled with the girl as she squirmed like a slippery eel in his arms.

“That’s enough!” Nadir said, his voice filled with venom. He pulled Amya away, and the girl folded herself around her brother, wrapping her legs and arms tight. “Leave her alone. Can’t you see you’re frightening her?”

Rion’s nostrils flared as he stared at his children. They hated him. Both of them. He couldn’t blame Nadir for his feelings—he’d been a terrible father—but Amya . . . Rion had thought Amya was a chance to try again. To fix the mistakes he’d made with his son. But she was only a toddler and already hated him too .

He looked over to where Meora stood, her mouth parted with surprise and her eyes wide. Gods, he hated her . Despite convincing himself otherwise, he still hated her as much as ever. When he saw her standing there staring at him with that judgment in her expression, he snapped.

He stormed over to Meora as the expression on her face morphed into terror. He seized her by the arm and started dragging her out of the room.

“Father!” Nadir shouted. “Stop this! Go back to your study.”

Rion rounded on his son. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he snarled, his words slurring into one long garbled string. Amya still clung to Nadir, where she peeked out from the safety of his arms before quickly looking away, burying her face into her brother’s shoulder, her little body shaking with tears.

“Don’t let him follow,” Rion ordered a nearby group of guards, pointing at Nadir. “And if you try to follow, you can say goodbye to your mother once and for all.”

He let the threat hang in the air as Nadir glared, his jaw hard.

“Come on,” Rion said to Meora, spinning around and dragging her away, her feet tripping over each other.

“Father! Stop this!” Nadir’s voice followed him, dogging his steps. Rion breathed out a sigh of relief as they turned a corner, putting his son out of reach.

They reached Meora’s apartments, and he flung open the door to her bedroom.

“Rion! I’m sorry!” she cried. “I’m sorry.”

What was she apologizing for? Did she understand anything ?

He shoved her hard enough that she tripped, landing on the bed. She flipped over to face him as he stood above her.

“You will remain here from now on, out of my sight, unless royal duty requires otherwise.”

Then he spun around and stormed out of the room, followed by her sobs.

As he stalked down the hall, Nadir appeared at the end, still holding Amya.

They passed one another, their exchange filled with loathing, neither one saying a word.

The look in his children’s eyes would have been enough to shame any decent man into some kind of remorse, but Rion had never been a decent man.