Page 113 of Tale of the Heart Queen

“You need some company?” she asks, and I scan her from head to toe. She’s in a soft yellow dress that worships her curves, her red hair piled on her head with a few curls falling around her shoulders. We haven’t had another moment to revisit our interrupted encounter on the balcony, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it many times since.

“Of course,” I say, and she moves next to me, resting her elbows on the edge of the wall. We both face the distance, comfortable in our silence. It’s nice to be around someone who doesn’t feel the need to fill every pause.

More clouds tumble in, the sky turning grey. The temperature continues to climb, resulting in a sticky, cloying mess that makes me even more anxious.

“How’s Tyr?” I ask after a few minutes.

“Asleep,” she says, and I sigh. A gentle hand rests on my arm. “He needs to build up his strength.”

“I know. I just wish—”

“I know.”

She moves closer to me, the heat of her body pressing against mine as the wind tugs at our hair and clothing. The first small patters of rain hit my skin as my arm wraps around her hips almost involuntarily, drawing her nearer. She leans a head on my shoulder and peers up. As I look down at her, our mouths are so close that I can feel her warm breath on my lips.

She smells like orchids and vanilla. Like leather and silk. She licks her lips, and I zero in on the movement, imagining what it would be like to bite down on the lower one. My head moves, and our mouths brush with the barest flutter as my heart flips in my chest.

“Captain!”

“Fucking hell,” I grumble as I look up to find a soldier standing in the doorway. Can we not get a fucking break around here? Hylene looks over and then at me, a small smile playing on her face.

“What is it?” I ask, my teeth gritted.

“Captain. The warders have returned . . . and they have the king.” He shakes his head as if trying to clear it from the lies weighing down every corner of this palace. “I mean . . . the prince.”

My breath hitches like a roundhouse kick to the stomach. It takes me a moment to process those words as I cling to Hylene for support. I’ve been bracing for this moment, but now that it’s here, I’m not ready at all.

I nod slowly. “Take me to him.”

The soldier spins on his heel, and we rush through the palace, emerging into the courtyard. Dozens squeeze together in front of the gate, reaching through the bars, their arms outstretched as they scream for Atlas and his head.

Word of his capture has spread quickly, and they’ve come in droves bearing their metaphorical pitchforks. I scan the parapets, hoping no one gets any ideas of climbing over. Though we repaired and fortified the gate after the last incident, I don’t have enough soldiers to adequately control this.

Atlas kneels in the center of the courtyard with his head down and his hands cuffed behind his back. The sight chills my blood, making my stomach clench. My emotions straddle the line between wanting to tear him apart with my bare hands and vomiting in a corner until I have nothing left.

The eerie blue glow of arcturite highlights his shoulders and jaw and the ragged strands of coppery brown hair that fall in his face. I hate the sight of those cuffs. My tongue catches in my throat as I force one foot in front of the other, approaching slowly.

I nod to my brothers where they surround him, their wings spread and their hands hanging loosely at their sides, on the alert for sudden movements.

“Atlas,” I say, and he slowly looks up with cold and tired, bloodshot eyes. The spidering veins tell a story where I read so many things. The years we’ve shared. The childhood we spent together. Everything we’ve been through. The pain he caused. And the laughter, too. Perhaps he was my friend once.

“Gabe,” he says as I come to a stop before him. He doesn’t attempt to rise. He just looks up at me as though he still wears that stolen crown on his head.

He blinks at me, saying nothing with his chin lifted at an arrogant angle. I see no contrition in his eyes. Only the certainty that he had every right to do this.

Is he truly such a lost cause?

“You stole the throne, Atlas. You locked your brother away for decades. You nearly killed him. And then you murdered two of your warders. The greatest crime of all for a king of Aphelion,” I say as if he needs a reminder.

I hope I don’t imagine the flicker of uncertainty that crosses his expression then. Atlas might be many things, but even he’s not this big a fool.

The crowd outside the gate grows increasingly agitated, the noise swelling to a pulsing crescendo on the verge of bursting.

“Secure the wall,” I say. “If this mob enters the palace, I can’t protect the . . . Sun Prince.”

Atlas’s eyes flash at those words. I will never refer to him as my king again.

A moment later, Erevan appears at my side, his gaze on the crowd.