Page 76 of The Amber Sunburst

Detached.

Obsessive.

“Merciless.”

His voice is steady when he says it even though the word comes as a surprise. Has he ever said any of this out loud before? Has he even thought it?

“It hurt me, to know that we weren’t enough to save my mother, but it broke him. And his grief took the shape of one goal, looming constantly over the both of us: become the perfect heir. Twins are not very helpful for maintaining a line of succession, so my dad planned to pick one of us when we turned twenty. And that was fine. I never wanted to be their heir. I was… I am reckless. I’m not responsible, I’m fickle and a slut and a sodomite. I’m girl crazy and boy crazy and drunk crazy and— well, you get the point,” he says with a sharp smile as if each syllable doesn’t leave a scar as deep as the one in his brow. His mother never did mince her words.

Kallias speaks for the first time since the beginning of his rant. “Those words don’t sound like your own.”

Alexander’s laugh sounds a lot sadder than he intends. “No. No, they’re not. But they’re true. And if you’re my brother, you’d think the crown was yours. We both did. Then my dad said it was mine and whatever me and Cain had left between us shattered.

“I was a fool. I should have given it up there and then, stopped the whole thing before it spiraled beyond my control. But something in me truly believed that everything had gone the way it was meant to. They’re my people, you know? I can greet them by name when I walk through the city; I don’t think Cain has ever left the castle without an armed guard. And maybe I was just happy that my dad had finally picked me in a way that was real. I could point to this and tell myself someone in the world loves me more than anyone.

“So I smiled and shook hands and all the while I felt something creeping up on me. Cain hated me. And I assumed we’d have time to get over it—that I would grow into the leader I needed to be and he would learn all he could do without the crown—but it happened so fast.”

“What happened?” Kallias asks, and Alexander suddenly remembers that not everyone knows about his father’s fate. He’d just assumed that the world noticed when the sun went dark, and his life descended into madness.

“I woke up to the servants banging on my doors—I had a girl with me, had to kick her out the window—and when I finally got up they brought me to my dad’s room and it almost looked like he was asleep. But the air in the room… It was like it hadn’t been breathed for too long. I don’t even remember what my last words to him were.

“They began planning the coronation right away and I didn’t have the heart to tell them to stop—didn’t have the heart for much beside wine and sex, actually. The way I was, I would have been a horrible king. Maybe Cain saw that. Maybe that’s why.”

Kallias doesn’t say anything, but the question is in his eyes.

“Why he put me on a ship and sent me to die at sea.”

“It was your brother, then.”

“What?”

“The person you loved. But you didn’t trust.”

He recognizes that as the meager explanation he gave Kallias weeks ago in the Library.

He nods.

Kallias visibly hesitates, opening and closing his mouth once before he says, “You don’t think your brother⁠—”

“Killed my dad?” Alexander finishes. “It’s crossed my mind, believe me. But he loved our dad like I loved our mom. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.”

“But to you?”

“Cain and I have been hurting each other since we were kids. But no matter how much I hate him, I still love him. And maybe, somewhere out there, he loves me too.”

His voice cracks on the last word—only then does he notice that his face is streaked with tears. He closes his eyes and heaves a sigh, dropping his forehead to the table.

It takes him a few seconds to pop back up, and when he does, Kallias is panicking in that subtle way of his. His dark eyes are wide like he’s horrified that Alexander might just break down sobbing. When he rests a hand on Alexander’s shoulder, his brows stitch together in worry.

It’s such a gentle touch that Alexander can’t help more tears. It’s been ages since someone looked at him like this—like he was their whole universe.

“Well, would you look at that,” he says, smiling, but crying still. “I’ve always been a bit of a wreck.”

Kallias scowls at that and Alexander wants a picture. He loves the way his nose scrunches up. “You’re not a wreck.”

“More like a destructive natural disaster.”

“Not that either.”