Page 96 of Secrets of Ruin

But he would have promised Leo anything; not only was he a good man and a just ruler but also Ryker’s best friend and the father figure he’d been denied. He’d never expected to fail his hero or watch him die.

How Ryker would uphold that promise made over a year ago, he had no idea, as Leo’s brother, Ivan, had never liked him, and the feeling was mutual. It wasn’t something either of them hid.

Ryker had been Leo’s advisor and right-hand man; Ivan wouldn’t allow that to continue with him, and Ryker didn’t want it to. He’d prefer to have nothing to do with Ivan, his promise, this land, and especially his father.

From what he’d seen of Tempest since returning, the land had been broken by the war… but then, so had he. Ryker had no idea how to help the land and its citizens heal when every day was a struggle for him.

Maybe he’d find a way to uphold his promise one day, but it wouldn’t be today, tomorrow, or the next day. He’d waged wars, escaped the ophidians’ dungeon, survived Doomed Valley, and watched Leo die; he didn’t have it in him to care about anyone else in this realm.

For now, he’d prefer to be left the fuck alone.

CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR

As Ryker strode down the main hall, past the banquet room, solar, and doors leading to his father’s aviary where his prized falcons were kept, his feet thudded against the gray stone floor. He was almost to the staircase leading to the second, third, fourth, and fifth floor—which was only the four towers of the palace—when his father’s voice stopped him.

“Ryker.”

He froze with his hand on the banister and his shoulders back, even as a part of him inwardly cringed away from the ice in his father’s tone. It had been centuries since his father took a whip to him, but the man could still make him feel like a child again, cowering from his blows and trying not to cry because that only made the beatings worse.

Lockes didn’t cry, or at least that’s what his father told him as he lashed him again and again. They took the abuse and grew stronger from it; if he didn’t become stronger, his father would break him.

And if his father broke him, he’d kill him. Ryker did not doubt it.

There had been many times when he’d believed he would break, but that day never came. Instead, he grew tired of the beatings and stood there, staring at his father while the man lashed him.

He refused to look away from his father’s gaze while the whip fell again and again, welting his skin and slicing it open. Even when blood broke free to slide down his chest, he didn’t look away.

He didn’t so much as grunt as the whip cracked through the air and connected with his flesh again and again. Sweat beaded his forehead and upper lip as the whip flew more rapidly through the air, and his father’s eyes glistened with determination.

At the time, Ryker was nineteen and still not fully grown, but that was the last time his father beat him. Sweating and his shoulders heaving as he panted for breath, his father finally gave up on whipping him.

It wasn’t as much fun to whip someone who didn’t beg for mercy.

He also suspected he’d scared his father that day… and the duke should be scared. Ryker would have protected this realm from the ghouls, but he’d gladly toss his father to the flesh-eating atrocities if they knocked on the door.

“Where have you been?” his father demanded.

Ryker turned to face the man. He kept his expression impassive as he searched the face he’d grown to hate… a face far too similar to his for his liking, though there were differences.

His father’s hair was dark blond to Ryker’s darker brown, and his eyes were a pale green to Ryker’s silver. He’d grown taller than his father years ago; he had broader shoulders and more muscle.

Even after his time in the ophidian dungeon, he had a good thirty pounds on the man. As a lightning bearer, he also possessed more power, and they both knew it.

Ryker would never outright kill his father, but they both knew he wouldn’t go out of his way to save him either. He couldn’t say the same about this man; if it somehow benefited him, he’d kill Ryker.

The duke most likely hadn’t done so already because he had no other sons. There was no benefit to having his only heir destroyed… at least not yet.

Who knew what the future held?

“Since when do you care where I’ve been?” Ryker inquired.

When his father’s eyes narrowed, Ryker braced his legs apart. He wasn’t a child anymore; if his father struck him, he would strike back. He didn’t give a shit if it was wrong or not.

“You’ve spent far too much time gallivanting after that fool king. It’s time you return to your duties. I will not tolerate you taking off whenever you please anymore. Some things must be dealt with here in Tempest.”

Ryker didn’t ask his father how he’d stop him from going anywhere. They both knew the Duke of Locksley would fail to physically restrain him.

“There was a war going on, in case you forgot, Father.” Ryker kept his tone as bored as possible while replying.