Page 39 of Kingdom Of Veil And Vow

Chapter Twenty-Five: Xander

Unsure of what I’ll find, I hit the bottom step and press forward, my stride just short of a jog. There are new prisoners that have been deposited in the cells closest to the stairs, and they attempt to grab my attention by shouting, pleading their innocence as I pass. Ignoring them, I slow my pace down when I near Immie’s cell.

“Guardsman.” Her voice is more rasp than anything else, crackling as she says the word. Laying on her back, hands clasped over her chest, she is lit in faint amber light. What skin I can see exposed looks unmarred, her face showing evidence of exhaustion but not much else. “If you’re just going to stare, at least toss a compliment my way.”

“I heard Simon paid you a visit. I was just looking…” I let the statement trail off. I was looking for how badly he hurt you seems inappropriate.

Immie’s eyes meet mine across the expanse of her cell, but she doesn’t offer additional comments on Simon or his ministrations. “Check on the girl,” she says instead, clearing her throat. “I tried telling her that I am fine, but she doesn’t believe me.”

I don’t linger, following her command as I quickly walk to the last cell, my eyes scouring it beneath the light of the torch flame. A strange and wild feeling overcomes me when I don’t spot her right away. But then my eyes catch on her moonlight-colored hair, the pale strands gathered over one shoulder and into a loose plait. With her knees hugged tightly to her chest, she glares at me from where she’s huddled on the ground near the edge of her cot.

I squat down slowly, balancing on the balls of my feet as I hold her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Her jaw flexes, anger a thrum that pulses down her neck. “Why are you here?”

“Are you hurt?”

She scoffs, turning her head so that she stares at the dark stone on the opposite wall. Miles’s taunt is a phantom echo in my head as I drag my eyes over her again, looking for evidence that he might have been lying. “Don’t act like you care.”

Lowering fully until I’m seated on the ground, I swallow my growing unease and raise my internal shields again. Focus. Control. “I don’t have to pretend I care. I don’t have to say or do anything that I don’t want to when it comes to you.”

She frowns but keeps her eyes fixed ahead of her.

“Was it Commander Miles?”

She tenses, shoulders rising towards her ears while her eyes flutter. “How do you—” She cuts herself off by pinching her lips together. “I don’t feel much like talking today, guardsman. You will have to mine me for information at another time.”

There’s a hopelessness in her tone that is hard to ignore. In the time I’ve spent with her, I’ve seen versions of Bella that range from deliriously injured to steadfastly defiant. I’ve even seen her soften when recalling memories of Rhea and grow feral when talking about the king. But this… This feeling of desperation that plays across her face draws the same emotion from deep within my gut. I owe her nothing about myself, nothing at all that might compromise me or the resistance, yet I’m tugged by some internal string to share something with her anyway. Tienne’s suggestion to try earning her trust rings in my mind like truth, even if the rules I’ve governed my life by make it sound more like an omen. “He’s always been an asshole.”

“The king? I’m aware—”

“Miles. The commander,” I amend. Her shoulders marginally relax, but she lets a few seconds pass before she responds.

“I do not like him,” she finally whispers.

“Neither do I. He’s the kind of man who abuses his power. He always has.”

“You say it as if you aren’t part of that same established power.” She glances out of the corner of those amber-hued eyes, assessing me. “Have you ever done it?”

“What?” I ask, resting my elbows over my knees.

“Abused your power.”

Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking. But those internal warning bells go off again, reminding me of my rules. That I can’t break them, even in the name of earning her trust. But if she is to remain unharmed by Simon, by the king, I need her to give me something. In the time it takes me to figure out how to answer, she scoffs and shakes her head. Her immediate damnation of me prickles my skin, an irritation that I’m desperate to relieve. I glance towards Immie’s cell, mindful of the fact that whatever the old woman hears will likely be pulled from her the next time Simon visits.

With all of that in mind, I push my nerves aside and keep my voice low. “I have lived this life”—I pause to gesture towards the roaring lion on my armor—“for a long, long time. I didn’t choose to become a guard, but it was my destiny all the same. And because of who I am bloodsworn to, because of the things I have been forced to see and do in his name, I’ve adopted a set of rules to live by.” Bella messes with the end of her braid as she glares at me. She’s intrigued, and that is enough encouragement for me to keep going. “Never show weakness, never deviate from a plan, and never let anyone get close. Each rule was shaped by an experience orchestrated by the king to remind me of my place. Of his power over me. And it all started with my mother.”

Though my voice is barely louder than a whisper, it still falters with emotion. It has been years since I watched her die in front of me, kneeling in a pool of my own blood with my flayed back open to the elements, yet sometimes, the mere mention of her brings me right back to that night. To the rich smell of iron in the air and the pleading in her eyes as she watched the king order a guard to hurt me. I shake my head, gaze casting towards the tops of my boots while I work the knot in my throat free.

“The night she was murdered, it was because I defied the king’s command not to visit her. It had been so long since I saw her last—nearly a full year—and I just missed her. I was young and brash, smart enough to know the king would be furious if he found out but foolish enough to think I wouldn’t get caught. I risked it, for her, and in the end, she paid the price for my stupidity.” My fingers curl in towards my palms until my nails bite into the skin. “He saw how much I loved her, and he used it against me. I was still a child.”

Bella’s small intake of breath draws my gaze up, and I dread the pity I assume will be in her eyes. But only sadness lingers in them, the planes of her face softened just slightly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Nodding, I break away from her stare, tucking my hair behind my ear and twining my fingers together in front of me. “That day, I vowed to never let my weaknesses show. The armor I wear is physical, but there are mental shields in place now that were formed that night. Years passed, and I moved from apprentice to recruit. I forced myself to become accustomed to being alone. As the youngest in the guard, it wasn’t often that I had anyone to talk to. But when my official training began, someone only a few months older than me joined, and against my will, he befriended me.” Bella snorts, and the sound prompts the corners of my mouth to move out a little wider. “Cade managed to turn the mundane into an adventure. Our training was rigorous, often leaving us both beyond the point of exhaustion, but he never turned down an opportunity to grab a meal together or visit the library. He was always smiling, annoyingly so, and filled a silence in my life I hadn’t realized was there until his presence made it glaringly obvious. When we passed our final test and officially earned the title of guards, we were ecstatic to learn we’d been paired to work the same route in Vitour.”

Cheers, Xander, to the rest of our lives!

We’d decided to celebrate at a tavern, blood and dirt still coating us from the battle of the final test. I had earned a few more nicks and cuts on my arms but had come out largely unscathed. Cade laughed at the cut of a blade just above his mouth. The ladies do fawn over a handsome scar, Xander. It was the first time I thought of scars as anything other than an ugly and permanent reminder of failure. But that was Cade. Positive through and through. I run the tip of my thumb over the crescent-shaped scar on my palm, sighing softly.