For the second time in half a decade, Edric watched a kingdom burn.
The flames danced against the night sky, twisting in unnatural shapes. They almost looked like ghosts.
He gripped the stone railing of the balcony, his knuckles white. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the distant screams of his people. This was not the first time he had watched chaos unfold like this. But somehow, he knew these were his final moments.
He closed his eyes. 'Was this always my fate?'
Had his father doomed him the moment he drove his sword through King Tharion's heart? Had he doomed himself when he let Dorian into his court?
Or had fate simply been waiting, patient and cruel, for this exact moment?
The doors behind him burst open, the sound sharp and sudden against the cacophony of the burning city. Edric turned, his hand instinctively reaching for the sword he no longer carried. A guard stumbled onto the balcony, his armor smeared with soot and blood.
"Your Highness," the guard said, standing at attention despite his ragged appearance. "We must leave here immediately. It's not safe."
Edric's gaze swept over the man, noting the panic in his eyes. "What's going on? Where are your men? What happened to The Order?"
The Emerald Order, his personal security detail, was not so small that the job would be relegated to one man. That one man looked away, pain folding his expression. "Dead. Poisoned. They fell where they stood."
Edric raised a brow. "In the pub, between a woman's breasts?"
The guard's jaw tightened, and Edric immediately regretted the remark, even though it was true. He had handpicked those men to serve him, but not all of them had been strong enough to resist the sway of swill and the touch of a harlot. He had never dissuaded them from their indulgences, so long as they were ready for duty the following day. His coins had paid for their drink, his name had brought women to them, and now they were dead.
"And the guards stationed around the palace?" Edric asked.
"All slain," the guard replied. "We must leave now, Your Highness. The death toll is rising. It seems like a coordinated attack. Surely, you are the target."
Edric's lips pressed into a thin line. Surely.
A cold sweat broke out along Edric's spine. His hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palm. He rested his clenched fists on the stone railing. It was warm beneath his skin, heated by the nearby flames.
He felt it now—the inevitability, the way the night pressed in, smothering, final.
It's happening.
His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, though each one felt harder to take. He was a king. Kings did not beg. Kings did not run.
But gods, how he wanted to.
"Have you received word from my father?" he asked.
The guard's response was a pained gurgle. Edric turned in time to see the man reaching desperately for the blade protruding from his throat. The gurgling sound filled the space, wet and awful. The guard's mouth opened, trying to form words, but only blood bubbled up. His wide eyes met Edric's for a fleeting moment before he collapsed to the ground.
And behind him, the murderer stepped forward, silent as a shadow, the bloodied sword still raised. The fire behind him cast his face in sharp, unforgiving relief.
Edric's breath caught.
"Your father is dead," the man said, flicking blood from his sword.
Edric's heart sank, both from the news and from the sight of the man standing before him. He knew that face, those eyes—dark and stormy, filled with a rage that burned hotter than the fires consuming the city.
"I thought it was you," Edric said quietly. "I'd hoped I was wrong."
Dorian—no, Caelan—stood on the balcony, blocking the only exit. His face was streaked with soot, his hands and sword stained with blood. He raised the blade, pointing it at Edric with a steady hand. "Prince Edric of Velentis, your time has come."
Edric chuckled humorlessly. "I haven't been Prince Edric of Velentis for a long time."
Caelan's jaw hardened. "For your crimes against the true crown of Aeryndale. For your crimes against me, I will deliver justice. The judgment is guilty. The penalty is death."
Edric swallowed hard. He remembered that day like it was Armageddon. It sure had felt like it. He remembered the look of hurt and betrayal in Caelan's eyes. Those eyes, now angry, bore into him. He had seen other emotions in them too—humor, wonder, love. "Will you allow me to defend myself?"
"Your father did not give mine that same courtesy when he plunged a blade in his chest," Caelan spat.
This was true. It had been a quick attack. King Aerund, Edric's father, was aware King Tharion trusted him. Getting close to him had not been an issue. Tharion never saw his death coming, neither did Caelan. Edric only knew because he'd overheard his father speaking the plan; then it was a question between his loyalty to Velentis and his loyalty to his closest friend.
"You must know that I tried to warn you," Edric said. "I tried to tell you that my father and the others were coming for your throne. I wanted to protect you from it."
Caelan's gaze hardened. "You did not try hard enough."
"What would you have had me do?" Edric demanded.
"Killed your father for his treason against the alliance," Caelan said.
Edric's voice rose, desperation creeping in. "Gods, Cael! Do you think me capable of patricide? Am I that much of a monster to you?"
Caelan's expression didn't waver. "The judgment is guilty. The penalty is death. I will allow you your final words."
Edric's throat tightened. His voice was hoarse as he asked, "Did it please you to share a bed with a monster?"
For a moment, the ice in Caelan's eyes thawed. He stepped closer, his sword still raised.
"I welcomed you into my court," Edric continued. "I gave you my trust."
"Because you did not recognize me," Caelan said.
"I thought you were dead," Edric replied. "I searched for you, after Velentis laid siege to Aeryndale. I searched every man of your stature, every male with your eyes. I saw you everywhere."
"It was your guilt possessing you," Caelan spat.
"I ordered my men to find you," Edric said.
"And I thank the heavens they did not," Caelan shot back. "My father was dead. The love of my life was dead. The last thing I needed was to rot in your cell."
Edric flinched at the accusation but, in a way, he understood. "That is not what I would have done."
Caelan's grip on the sword tightened. "Speak your last words, or I will cut you down without them."
Edric sighed, tears welling in his eyes. "I loved you."
"You loved Dorian," Caelan said bitterly.
Edric took a step closer, the sword's tip brushing against his chest. "And now I see that the man I loved was a lie hiding the name of someone I thought dead."
Caelan's breath shuddered. His fingers flexed around the hilt, loosening, tightening. His blade was steady—his hands were not.
His voice was cold. "If it's any consolation, the man you knew as Caelan died alongside Ashur."
Edric reached out, his hand trembling as he cupped Caelan's cheek. "Did you love me?"
The ice in Caelan's eyes melted, tears spilling over. "I could never forgive you for what your father did and what you failed to do."
Edric's own tears fell, mingling with the soot on Caelan's face. "That is not what I asked, Cael," he whispered.
Caelan's voice broke. "I loved you. It pained me to lie to you. But I did what had to be done."
"You climbed into my bed with another name," Edric said, his voice choked with grief.
"It was necessary," Caelan replied, his sword shaking in his hand.
Edric's heart shattered. "I loved the man called Caelan. And after I lost him, I loved the man called Dorian."
Caelan's breath hitched. "Caelan hated you."
"And Dorian?" Edric asked.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Caelan leaned into Edric's touch, his voice barely audible. "I loved you."
How could Edric even know it was the truth?
"You kissed my shoulders in the morning and called me yours in the dark," He had once traced his fingers along Caelan's spine, whispering secrets into his skin. Caelan had laughed—soft, breathy—pressing his lips to Edric's temple as if he belonged there. "Did you plan to kill me even then?"
Caelan bit down on his lower lip as his tears fell freely. Their morning might as well have been a different lifetime. And, in a different lifetime, they'd probably be making love in the garden right now.
In this lifetime, this was how their story ended.
"Tell me, Cael," Edric choked out. "One last time."
Caelan closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face. "I love you," he whispered. "But I will not spare you."
Edric's lips curved into a sad smile. "Then make it quick."
Caelan's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with Edric's one final time. Then, with a swift, brutal motion, he plunged the blade into Edric's chest.