Page 102 of Fate of the Sun King

Mael chuckles, and Tristan tosses him a dark look. Mael raises his hands in supplication.

“Sorry. I’m not laughing at you.”

“Then who are you laughing at?” Tristan demands.

“Him.” Mael cocks his head towards Nadir, who raises an eyebrow in response. “You’ve been such a fucking mess since she showed up. It’s a relief to know there was a reason, and it wasn’t only down to your sparkling personality.”

Nadir opens his mouth as if to argue and then snaps it shut before he gives me a small smile. “I might have been a little in my head the past few weeks.”

“So you’re destined or something?” Tristan asks. I explain everything I’ve been feeling and what Rhiannon told me about the bond. When I’m finished, Tristan is quiet.

“Remember our grandparents were mates too,” I say, and that makes something flicker in his expression. “Rhiannon said they loved each other very much.”

Tristan rubs a hand down his face. “So that means you’re stuck with him. With the son of the king that killed our family and locked us up for half our lives.”

I nod. “The very same one,” I say softly. “I hope that in time you can learn to accept him. I know why it’s hard to trust him, but believe me when I say Nadir has had only my best interests at heart.” I pause, thinking of how he stole me from Aphelion so he could interrogate me and told me he would have disposed of me had I turned out to be no one of importance. “Mostly,” I add.

I understand why he did those things, and they had nothing to do with me. Not really.

“It means you’re stuck with him, too, Tris. Because any future I have beyond what we’re trying to achieve is one that includes both of you in it.”

Tristan lets out a deep sigh and peers at Nadir as if looking at him properly for the very first time.

Nadir grins and leans forward, holding out a hand. “Welcome to the family, Brother.”

Tristan’s glare is hard as stone, and Nadir winks.

“Okay, too soon for that. We’ll work on it.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

GABRIEL

THE SUN PALACE

I already hate today. Lately, I sort of hate every day, if I’m being honest. Ever since Atlas set a date for the bonding with Apricia, I can’t get a moment of fucking peace. She’s everywhere. Screeching at anyone within firing distance, and no matter how hard I try to hide, she manages to sniff me out like a bloodhound… or maybe a rat or some equally unpleasant pest with an unnaturally gifted nose and a penchant for bestowing misery.

It seems she’s decided that because the warders exist to do Atlas’s bidding, we’re also there for hers. Fuck that. Even if I didn’t want to toss her into shark-infested waters, the very last thing on my to-do list would be picking up flower arrangements and holding up the train of the ridiculous dress she ordered.

I almost burst out laughing when she came into Atlas’s study wearing it. It’s about as wide as a house, and it has so many crystals and gold beads, I was shocked she didn’t tip right over. Even Atlas had a hard time holding in his grimace, though he made a good show of pretending he thought she looked beautiful.

Atlas has changed a lot in the past few weeks. He’s lost weight, and there are bags under his eyes. I know he isn’t sleeping because I haven’t found Lor yet. With one week until the bonding, he’s pressuring me with increased urgency every day. I really hope Lor is figuring out how to get inside the palace so I don’t have to continue lying. Not because I care about being truthful with Atlas, but because the strain of keeping this secret—the aches and pains plaguing my joints and my limbs—means I can’t hold out much longer.

Today I find myself inexplicably standing inside Apricia’s entertaining salon, having been summoned by a shrill screech echoing through the halls. Was she this insufferable during the Trials, or has the power of her position made her worse?

She’s currently outlining the seating arrangements for dinner after the ceremony, though I have absolutely no idea why. Does she think I’m going to remember any of this? Or that I care which spoiled noble sits next to another? As she turns to face the window, still talking, I pinch the bridge of my nose. In just a few more days, all those said nobles will start entering the palace, not only from the twenty-four districts but also from the rest of Ouranos.

Apricia whips around, and I look up, feeling like a schoolboy caught with his hand down the front of his pants. Which is ridiculous. Zerra, how does she do that? Part of me is considering giving up Lor to Atlas solely so Apricia doesn’t actually become my queen. But even I’m not that much of a bastard. I think. At this point, the chances are fifty-fifty.

“Are you paying attention to me?” she demands, and it’s literally all I can do not to roll my eyes far enough to see the inside of my skull. My forehead cramps from struggling to keep them in place.

“Of course,” I say, tipping my head. But she’s not technically my queen yet, and I’m not required to add “Your Majesty” to that, a detail that she must notice, because she narrows her eyes.

“Then who did I say should sit next to Lady Boliver?”

Fuck me. I scratch my chin, wondering if I should try to answer this or simply walk away. I do not care if Apricia is angry, unless it means she’ll follow me down the hallway waving her broomstick until my eardrums burst and leak out of my ears.

“Lord Ferdinand?” I say, because I decide answering in-correctly will be more fun and lord knows I need all the comic relief I can get right now.