“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” — Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

  ???

  After leaving the twins’ room, Lysandra determinedly made her way towards the one place where she knew King Edric would be at this time of the night. The few Imperial Palace staff still on night shift duty bowed to Lysandra as she passed, but she never broke her stride, her footsteps echoing softly down the palace corridors.

  The silence no longer bothered her. In fact, it might be for the best. No one would be around to witness the confrontation that was about to unfold. A confrontation that Lysandra will admit is long overdue.

  A Crownsguard was standing beside the door to King Edric’s study. He didn’t move from his position, but saluted Lysandra smartly, as is protocol. “His Majesty ordered that he not be disturbed,” The Crownsguard said.

  Lysandra only raised a brow. “And I’m his wife and queen,” she replied coolly. “I need a word with the king. Come back in thirty minutes.” The Crownsguard hesitated. “I’m not going to kill him.” Lysandra rolled her eyes. Though there are days when she is solely tempted to. “But unless you can keep your mouth shut about what happens in there, I suggest you leave your post. Or at least try not to listen.”

  The Crownsguard hesitated before his shoulders slumped. “I can’t abandon my post, Your Majesty. Lord Hamilton and the commander would have my head. But I won’t repeat anything I hear.” Lysandra nodded, and the Crownsguard then knocked on the door. “Your Majesty? Her Majesty is here. She requests an audience.”

  Edric’s voice could be heard from behind the door. “Let her in.”

  Lysandra opened the door and entered, walking in with purpose, the sounds of her heels being muffled by the carpet beneath her feet as she entered the king’s study that generations of kings have used.

  A crackling fire was going strong in the heath, with it being the only sound in the room, and its orange light was the only source of light. Heavy crimson drapes were drawn across the tall windows. Above the fireplace hung a large oil painting in a heavy golden frame—an old depiction of ancient Alathia. Large bookcases covered one side of the room, stretching from the ceiling to the floor, and were filled with trinkets and ornaments of all kinds. There were even two plush armchairs in a corner near the window, with a round table between them.

  Behind the polished oak desk sat King Edric von Aubere, nursing a glass half-filled with red wine, with a wine bottle resting on the surface of his desk. Though the desk bore the usual stacks of reports and documents, he wasn’t reading them.

  The king was currently in his red dressing gown, looking more exhausted and humane than Lysandra had ever known. Not since Edric was still Crown Prince, being the reckless, rule-breaking heir that she had once known, always being scolded by the late king.

  “Your Majesty,” Lysandra strode towards his desk determinedly. “We need to talk.”

  Edric sighed tiredly, putting down his glass and giving his queen his full attention. “What now?” he asked wearily.

  “The way you’re treating our son,” Lysandra said, narrowing her eyes at Edric. Her statement caught the king’s attention, and he looked at her, his brows drawn, and his jaw clenched. “And you will not brush me off this time!” Edric’s expression began to harden, but Lysandra didn’t give him a chance to protest or argue. “Do you know what Luca asked me tonight? He asked me why his father hates him.” Edric’s jaw clenched tightly. “How do you expect me to tell him that’s not true when you show him every single day how much you despise him? When you treat him like he’s part of the wall or furniture, or worse, even ignore him like he’s a shadow in the hall? When you smile only at Rem, but never once acknowledge Luca?”

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  The king snarled, half-rising to his feet. “How do you expect me to react when your son—”

  “Our son,” Lysandra said sharply.

  “—can read minds?” Edric continued, ignoring the interruption. His hands curled into fists on the surface of his desk. “It’s unnatural!”

  “You knew this could happen,” Lysandra said coldly. “Our engagement was arranged because we both have bloodlines from the Ten Great Houses, but I wasn’t directly tied to them, to prevent upsetting the political balance.”

  It hadn’t hurt that the late king and queen had liked her, and had hoped that she could temper the wildfire that was their son. Most of King Edric’s policies since he had taken the throne had been drafted by Lysandra’s hand.

  “We both carry bloodlines tied to the Ten Great Houses!” Lysandra pressed. “You knew abilities weren’t unheard of! Heiress D’Aragon is ten years old, and she can see the future, yet I don’t see you calling her ‘unnatural’! House Nightray is full of people with skills that can rival those with abilities, yet you’ve never declared them ‘abominations’!”

  “That’s different!” Edric argued. “He’s already five years old, and he’s already—”

  “That’s my point exactly!” Lysandra almost threw her hands up in the air with frustration. “I haven’t forgotten how proud and delighted you were when Luca and Rem were born, and the doctor told us that Luca is born with a gift. The first royal in generations to do so! You were walking about on clouds for weeks! What changed, Edric? When Minister Varence started whispering in your ear?” She didn’t give Edric a chance to answer. “Whether you want to admit it or not, Luca is your son as much as Rem is! He’s five years old! He’s your child!”

  Edric was silent for several moments, staring down at his clenched fists on the surface of the desk. For several moments, Lysandra thought that she’d finally gotten through to him, but then, the king spoke again.

  “He’s a monster,” Edric whispered, falling back into his plush chair. Across him, Lysandra froze. “He speaks thoughts that I never told anyone. Fears and insecurities that I had had my entire life. Things I never told anyone, not even Hamilton. Things buried so deeply that I’d almost forgotten them. And then, he says them back to me like he knows. Like he’s peeling me apart from the inside.” His voice cracked. “Do you think I want to fear or hate my child, my queen?”

  He looked at Lysandra, and the king looked old. So old.

  “I wanted to love him. Be proud of him. He’s my heir. The Crown Prince. The heir to the throne. The way my father was of me, and his father was of him, and so on. But I look at him, and when I remember that Lucien can hear what I’m thinking…” Edric swallowed. He buried his head in his hands. “I got scared. I can’t help how I feel, Lysandra. We have three nannies resigning from their posts in less than a week, even before Lucien and Remington were three, and it doesn’t help how I feel!” His voice cracked. “It’s not normal.”

  Lysandra swallowed hard.

  This was the first time she had heard the king admit how he felt, and displaying some form of weakness or vulnerability. For as long as she’d known him, even back when Edric was still the Crown Prince, he was the stereotypical type of man who thinks brute force can solve anything. Lord Hamilton was always exasperated with him. It was a miracle that Edric even managed to graduate from the Imperial Officers Academy, with how poorly he did in Strategy and Tactics.

  “Then… If you truly can’t bring yourself to treat him as your son…” Lysandra finally found her voice. “Let him go.” Edric’s eyes snapped to hers. “I’ll take him back to House Camden. Or send him to House Nightray. I’ll go with him if I must. Or send him peacefully to one of our border territories. Even to another country. But don’t keep him in the palace just to break him.”

  The king snarled, rising to his feet once more and slamming both hands onto his desk. His wine glass and the wine bottle wobbled dangerously. “Do you think I’ll just hand over royal blood to some random noble house? Risk another faction raise him as some pawn? Or let some random country or House have a claim on the throne in the future?” Edric snarled.

  Lysandra felt anger swell up from within her. “Hamilton Nightray is no traitor!” she snapped. “His loyalty is ironbound! He’s been your best friend since you both were boys! You know that!” Edric was taken aback, startled. Whether it is with Lysandra’s words, or because she is shouting at him for the first time in their years of marriage, Lysandra has no idea. “And yet, it seems to me of late that you’ve been ignoring and even belittling Hamilton Nightray’s advice to you. And even that of Lord Esmund! Do you think the soldiers wouldn’t talk? Or the servants?” She shook her head. “If there is anyone who would never turn on the Crown, it is House Nightray. That entire House exists to protect the royal family! You know that.”

  Edric was silent. “I can’t trust anyone. Not anymore,” he admitted.

  “And yet, you trust your Finance Minister more than you trust Lord Hamilton, Lord Esmund, or me?” Lysandra asked bitterly. Edric was silent. “I’m your wife. I’m your queen. Put your trust in me. If not as your queen, then as the mother of your children. Trust that I want them safe.”

  Edric remained silent.

  “Even if you can’t trust me, you don’t trust Luca, you can at least believe and trust that Lord Hamilton and House Nightray would be loyal to the Crown.” Lysandra is starting to despair, as none of her words are getting through to Edric at all. But she had to try! For Luca! “Being a father means more than producing heirs, and feeding them, and providing a shelter for them. It means being there. For them. Loving them. Even when they scare you. Even when they drive you up the wall.”

  There were several moments of long silence.

  Edric swallowed. “…Leave me, my queen,” he said almost quietly. Slumped in his plush chair, he looked older than he really was. And for a moment, Lysandra felt a stab of pity go through her.

  “If you keep pushing Luca away, Edric…” Lysandra warned quietly, “One day, you will regret it.”

  She turned to walk out of the study, her steps steady and measured. Behind her, in the study, Edric stared into his glass of wine like it held the answers to the universe, but he didn’t look up at her, even as the door closed behind her.

  And for several moments, Lysandra wondered if she had ever truly known the man whom she’d married.