Author: Lauren Roberts

Chapter 39: Paedyn

CHAPTER 39

Paedyn

A piece of parchment slides under my door.

The rustling sound has me looking up from my book begrudgingly.

Unfolding stiff limbs, I stand from the bed and pad over to this folded mystery.

My whole being is tired, drained mentally and physically after my trek to Loot.

So, when I bend to pick up the paper, I can hardly find the energy to be intrigued.

That is, until I hear his voice accompanying each sprawling word.

You said to be on my best behavior, and I can’t possibly do

that if I’m in the same room as you. Besides, all I do is spend my

days in the training yard, attempting to teach a bunch of lazy

bastards how to punch. Reminds me of when I had to do the same

for you. And don’t roll your eyes; I know you loved it.

For now, this will have to be our pretend. Kitt spent most of

the morning with me, and he seemed good. Great, even. But I know

my brother. I think he’s trying to keep me away from you, slowly

distance us. Maybe he wants you as badly as I do, but not at the

price of losing me. He wants us both. I know the feeling.

Now, please entertain me, darling. I’m bored. What am I to do if

not count your freckles?

Your Cocky Bastard

It’s only when I’ve finished reading that I feel the stupid grin on my lips, even despite the worrying notion he voiced. Shaking my head at his words, I

determine to make him smile at my own. The large desk adorning the far side of my chamber has gone untouched since my return. Taking a seat in the stiff chair, I rummage through the many drawers in search of paper and a writing utensil.

I stare at the assortment of scavenged items before finally letting ink stain the parchment.

I see you finally signed your name correctly. It’s

about time. Now, I’m not sure anything I have to say is

entertaining, so I’ll just ramble until something

interesting falls onto the page. Don’t forget that you

asked for this, cocky bastard.

I had to pick out fabric for my wedding dress. Of

course, that only reminded me that Adena isn’t the one

making it. So, when I saw the Fort this morning with all

that fabric that smelled like her, and the scissors I used

to cut her bangs with—

Did I mention I went to Loot? Maybe I should have

started with that. I just needed to see the Fort and run

away from my future for a short while. But I met a new

friend there, one that loved Adena just as much. It was

nice, not being alone in my grief.

Anyway, I doubt you want to hear about wedding

plans or what flower I chose for my bouquet. I’m trying

not to focus on Kitt and my inability to read him. Just

know that if I could do it all over again, I would have

run from that poppy field with you when we had the

chance.

Now, go hit an Imperial for me today, would you? Or I

could remind you just how well I can throw a punch—

you seem to have forgotten. And, yes, I did roll my

eyes.

(We need to find you a hobby that does not include

counting my freckles. How many are there again?

Twenty-three?)

Your Pae

I slip the note beneath his door, though I know he is not on the other side.

Several hours pass before the Enforcer retires to his room for a short break in training, and soon after, a response is slipped into my room.

I’m glad you were able to visit the Fort after everything that

happened. You deserve to have that time with Adena. I only wish I

had known. We both know that you can handle yourself, but that

doesn’t stop me from worrying about you.

As for these wedding plans, it sounds to me like you’re getting

cold feet, Gray. We could still make a run for it, you know. Head

back out onto the Shallows. Find Astrum and keep sailing. Just

say the word.

(Twenty-eight, darling. But I could do a recount if you like.)

Your Cocky Bastard

My next note is handed off in person. I pass the Enforcer on my way to dine with his brother. Dirt mars his brow, mingling with a sheen of sweat that was coaxed from the beaming sun outside. His tousled black hair ripples when he looks up, gray eyes piercing straight through me. My heart stalls at the sight of him. It’s been days since we have spoken in private, and I’m tempted to shove him toward that broom closet he once carried me into.

But there are so many eyes in this castle, so many reasons to pretend with the Enforcer. I hold his gaze because that is all I’m allowed. He holds mine because it is the only piece of me he can have. I cling to this moment in which we have evaded the future.

Kai strides past. Our hands touch. My heart stutters. The note is slipped between his fingers.

You know firsthand that my feet are always cold. But

you are all bark and no bite, Azer. Your loyalties are

here with Kitt, so don’t pretend you would go running

off with me. The king is your duty and marrying him is

mine. But we will always have the willow tree.

(You’ll have to get close enough to count them,

Prince.)

Your Pae

“Good evening, Paedyn.”

I stride into the throne room, my hopes high. “Good evening, Kitt.”

We eat. Talk idly. Attempt to repair the bond we once had.

“Any plans for the night?”

I smile at his question. “Just the usual.”

In truth, I have a very exciting evening ahead of me, one that the king would never allow if he knew.

I nearly step on Kai’s reply when I return to my room.

You think I would not beg to run away with you? My duty

may be to the king, but my heart, Pae, is wherever you are. It is in

the palm of your hands, the pad of your thumb. So if you leave, I

will follow. If you stay, I will bow. Because there has never been

a moment when you did not own the only piece of me that

mattered—loving you made me matter. And I ache to be full again.

I sit there, stunned and still and staring at the very meaning of devotion. I’ve never witnessed beauty look so content in its brokenness. Unabashedly, he pleads for me. Unflinchingly, he lays every mask at my feet.

My gaze falls to the final line, and the corner of my mouth twitches upward.

(Oh, I can bite. You only need to ask, darling.)

I slip his note into the drawer of my bedside table, reuniting it with the others before taking a seat at the desk. My father’s ring raps against the wood as I fight to write those three little words that clog my throat. They are seemingly harmless until those who earn them are ripped away from me. I shake my head, writing instead a short string of letters.

On paper, you really do sound like a poet. Or a fool. I

won’t let you ruin yourself for me.

His response arrives quickly.

I want you to be my ruin, remember?

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