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“I’m a soldier, Kat,” I cut in with a bit more bite than I expected. “Before I was their king, I was their peer. A soldier in the trenches with them. I bled when they bled. I starved when they starved. I tended to their cuts and bruises, and they tended to mine,” I explain, feeling more collected now. “It’s easy to play and joke with men who have seen you at your worst. Who have watched you steal the life of some poor devil who probably had no idea why he was on the battlefield to begin with. They are me and I am them. We are one and the same.” When her gaze looks even more baffled, I let out an exaggerated exhale before continuing on with my rant. “So yes, my men respect me even if I crack a joke here and there with them. And yes, their loyalty to me is without question but not because of a crown that was placed on my head, but because they know, without a shred of doubt, that I would die for them if need be. It’s not a crown that wins people’s hearts, Kat. And it’s not a title that inspires people either. It’s sacrifice.”
Katrina goes awfully still, her lips a thin line across her face, making me wonder if anything that I’m saying is getting through to her.
Of course, I didn’t tell her all I needed to. I was cautious to leave a few things out.
How I’ve only started to laugh after knowing her bastard of a father was buried ten feet under. How his death was the real motivator in lifting my spirits. I doubt Katrina would have liked to hear such honesty coming out of my lips.
“I forgot,” she suddenly says.
“What?” I choke out. “What did you forget?”
“How passionate you are.”
My chest tightens at her words, my throat feeling as if she’s wrapped a rope around it, gently pulling at it for her pleasure.
“Passionate? Me?” I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “The night we first met you led me to believe you thought me a bore.”
She shakes her head.
“I never thought that. Never.”
“So you lied?” I try to play off, hoping it’s enough to lighten the tense atmosphere between us.
“I might have stretched the truth,” she admits, a ghost of a coy smile reaching her lips. One that sends an arrow straight to my heart, and pierces it right through the middle, leaving a hollow gap.
“I’d rather you were always honest with me,” I whisper, caught in her light gray gaze.
“As you are with me?” She arches her brow.
“I’ve told you before, Kat. I’m a man of honor. Lies have no room in my life.”
“But keeping secrets does?” she asks, going to the root of it.
“A casualty of being king, I’m afraid.”
“Heavy is the head,” she mumbles under her breath despondently with my reply.
“Yes. It can be. If you let it,” I caution wholeheartedly. “Its weight depends solely on you, Kat. You alone are judge and jury in that regard. No one else can help you there.”
“What a lonely thought,” she whispers again, her gaze fixed on mine.
A gentle breeze passes us by, the wind leaving an errant strand glued to her cheek. The urge to gently pull it back to its rightful place behind the crook of her ear is overwhelming, and yet I force myself to resist the temptation.
But even though I succeed in ignoring that compulsion, another one arises when she asks me her next question.
“Are you lonely, Levi?” she asks, her voice dropping an octave. “Being the beacon of your people, does it ever get… lonely?”
“Why are you asking me that?” I question back, feeling the rope she’s latched around my neck starting to pull and suffocate me.
“Why are you evading the question?”
“I—” I open my mouth to reply, but the words never come out.
Am I lonely?
Is that what she sees when she looks at me?
Loneliness?
