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What he had always wanted, on the few times he’d thought about it, was a partner who could stand by his side and fight right alongside him. Who could take an order and who couldunderstandthe concept of taking orders. Who knew that there was always someone higher up the chain who had more authority, more gravitas, more knowledge than you. Not some pampered little prince whose father had spoiled him so badly he thought he could storm around and bully the entire Tygerian royal family into giving into him. Bully King Davos himself!
He had a boy, who said he hated being “bossed around.” Who defied him when he gave orders—not orders as his spouse, but as the Dyson and Battle Commander—and who fought him when fighting wasn’t even necessary. A boy whose hair curled around his beautiful face like a doll’s, and whose eyes were such a dark, bottomless blue a person could fall into their depths and not be able to find his way out of again.
Mikol had never been with anyone before who ever made him feel anything more deeply. No one who really made his heart beat faster or made him feel he couldn’t breathe unless they were near. Not until Kalen. For the first time he wondered if maybe he wasn’t cut out to feel love like that. If the love was too much and it made him too weak, and if it did, then he didn’t want any part of it. Yet he feared it was far too late. There he was, in this thing up to his neck. He was drowning in love and he didn’t really see any way out. Unfortunately, he didn’t know if there was any way forward either.
****
Kalen paced up and down the length of his room, as Dartan watched him with a worried expression. “You’re going to make yourself ill if you keep on this way.”
Kalen shot him a vicious look but plopped himself down on a chair by the window.
“Happy now?”
Dartan shrugged, folding his arms across his chest. “None of this is helping, you know. Did you honestly believe that he’d let you go with him? That if you raised enough hell and pitched a big enough fit that any of them would let you go?”
“How dare you say something like that to me!”
“It’s true though, isn’t it?”
“Yes!So what if it is?”
Dartan shook his head. “Oh, be reasonable. He was never going to let you go to war with him.”
“Why not? I have courage. I have a brain, damn it. And a voice. I could stand up in front of my men and let them know I was there with them. That I haven’t abandoned them.”
“No one thinks you’ve done that, but what good would that do, really?”
Kalen shot Dartan a look of bitter betrayal. “What do you mean? I can lead them if I need to.”
“Why would you do that, when Prince Mikol is there and already the Dyson of the Axis? He has more knowledge and more experience.”
“My men don’t trust him though.”
“How do you know that?”
The question surprised Kalen and made him stop talking.
“I’m not trying to take his side, Your Highness. Or make you feel bad. But for a long time, you’ve not been in the forefront, but allowed your officers to take charge. First, because of your father and how grief-stricken and angry and frustrated you were. All very understandable,” he said quickly, holding up a hand. “But people have short memories. Your men are loyal to you, yes. And loyal to Loros. But maybe the reason Prince Mikol stated—that he needs to assess your readiness for battle—are exactly that. Any good commander would do so, and it’s not a reflection of what he thinks of you. You’re still pretty young and you don’t actually have battlefield experience.”
“I can’t do anything about my age, and I’m never likely to gain any experience by sitting on the sidelines.”
“I understand, but Loros needs your husband’s experience and expertise right now. It’s under attack, and what good will it do your soldiers’ morale if you’re killed while leading them? How might such a tragedy affect Prince Mikol? Sometimes the best thing you can do is to get out of the way.”
Kalen was angry at first and then shocked by what Dartan was saying. Had his uncle been right when he said Kalen was still too young, too heedless to make a good king? It was hard to believe the murdering bastard was right about anything. And Kalen thought his uncle still had his own agenda, which had nothing to do with what was best for Loros. But the questions Dartan posed still rocked him and all that he thought he knew up to now.
He did need more time and experience to become a good leader. Tygerians started when they were around twelve or fourteen, which meant Mikol, at twenty-seven, had anywhere from thirteen to fifteen years of training and experience. He was a proven leader and the best one to lead Kalen’s army at the moment. Maybe in time, he could learn to be just as good, but he wasn’t there yet. Only a fool would disagree.
“I’ve been making a fool of myself, haven’t I?”
Dartan lifted one shoulder. “You’ve had better days than these last few. I’ll have to say that.”
“Oh, god,” Kalen said, sitting down suddenly, as he felt the blood draining from his face. “I told Mikol I wanted a divorce. I said I didn’t love him anymore and I wanted to leave him. I accused him of lying to me and then I ran to Prince Mikos and King Davos and told them the same thing. What must they think of me? What if they all hate me now and wish they’d never agreed to me as Mikol’s consort? I have to tell Mikol I’m sorry as soon as he gets back home.”
“Who told you that, sir?”
“What? What do you mean? Of course, I need to tell him.”
“No, sir. I mean, who told you he would come back home?” He raised his face to Kalen, and for the first time, he showed Kalen what he was feeling. He looked wrecked.
