Loving the Forbidden Prince

Chapter 220  Spymaster

ETAN

He was numb. Hard and cold. His love for Ayleth still warm and coiled in his veins, but it was as if none of it touched his heart. He felt… ruthless.

She had to see. For her own good, she had to see!

Sensing the tension in the room, Borsche looked back and forth between them, Etan standing near the door, Ayleth seated at the table, staring at both of them like Etan had just pulled a poisonous viper from his pocket and offered it to her.

He saw the moment she absorbed the blow of learning that her trusted friend was Etan's spymaster. She blinked. Her chin rose a half inch, then she turned to Etan and their eyes locked. He sent a pulse of love along the bond—the truth of his heart—and she nodded once, as if commanding him to go on.

Without dropping her gaze, he spoke to Borsche. "I require a report—a full report—on the worst of what you learned while we resided in Zenithra. What you know of the King and Queen and their… proclivities. And your advice on how we should approach this conflict in the coming days and weeks."

Borsche's chin went down. He looked at Ayleth, then back to Etan. "A… full report?" he asked carefully, well aware of Ayleth's naivete when it came to her parent's habits.

But Etan was resolved. "The Queen wishes to understand the truth of how her former kingdom handled itself."

Ayleth flinched when he said "former," but Etan set his jaw and turned to Borsche. "Ayleth struggles to believe the image of her parents that I painted to the Council."

"Ah."

"I have never said they are not ruthless," Ayleth said quietly. "Only that they are not evil."

"Where is the line?" Etan asked her sharply. "At what point do we excuse and at what point condemn?"

"I guess we're about to find out," Ayleth said. Then, with a poise and strength that only made him love her more, she turned to Borsche. "Do not soften your blows, Borsche. Etan believes I need to understand, and I wish to. Tell me what you know."

Borsche sucked in a breath. "What exactly do you wish to know?"

"The truth."

Borsche looked wary. "The truth… of bloodshed and intrigue? Assassinations and deceit?

"You speak of every court," Ayleth said dismissively.

"Not mine," Etan said darkly.

She turned. "You expect me to believe that your court doesn't twist with political intrigue and machinations?"

"Yes, I do," Etan said baldly. "We are only human, Ayleth. I do not deny that there is healthy competition and occasional envy. But we follow the Father of Lights. To the Summitrans, nobility is a responsibility, not a right. Why do you think I believed I could convince my people to embrace you, Ayleth? Why do you think I was so deadened by the idea of a marriage for political gain?"

He told her then how differently his Kingdom lived—his people walking their days in respect, not fear.

"You saw this at work when we entered, Ayleth—you saw how close I am to them. How much I trust them—and they trust me. I know you saw the difference. We are… family. And if you need further proof, I can talk you for a walk among the markets and show you the ways the people care for each other—and how our Court are patrons of both art and charity.

"No man, woman, or child will starve in Summitras. Our streets are safe. And our Guard is immune to bribes. They cannot be paid to turn a blind eye—they are chosen based on their strength of character, not body."

Ayleth's mouth went tight. Etan held her gaze, silently pleading with her to understand. To believe. To trust him! "Everything you were taught about my people, my Kingdom—even me—was a lie, Ayleth. You cannot deny that. You have seen me conduct myself now. You have walked in my city. Do you believe I could have faked that?"

"No," she breathed. "I saw it. I just…." Her throat bobbed.

Etan nodded. Then turned to Borsche and indicated that he should speak.

The older man's eyes were compassionate when he turned to Ayleth, but taking Etan's lead, he did not soften his words.

He spent many minutes describing the relentless manipulations of the Court. The shadowy deaths and rivalries. The inherent power plays—and the misconduct of the nobility which was dismissed, and in some cases encouraged, by the King himself.

"The night we met you, Ayleth, you were accosted by one of the Lordlings. That conduct you witnessed, it was not uncommon. You had been uncommonly protected. And learned to defend yourself. But if you wish I can name the women in the Court who have been violated. I could describe the players among your parents' Court who use their power to push themselves above their competition—and the lives, both common and noble, that have been lost in the intrigues… for example, are you aware that your mother pitted the former Lady Hardyn against the daughter of the Merchant of Ships? For her own amusement? That girl was found—"

"I know exactly how that girl was found," Ayleth said faintly. "But… Borsche, are these rumors? The words of gossips, always looking for a scandal?"

"No, Ayleth. I overheard Lady Hardyn bragging to your mother to seek her approval—

they compared the girl's end to what they would do to any girl who stood in the way of Hardyn's heir finding her best match during the Festival of Peace."

Ayleth's eyes dropped and she swallowed more than once.

"Should I go on?" Borsche asked quietly. "I can tell you of the ways the land of Summitras has been peppered by sanctions and assassination—"

"No… no… That's… I understand," Ayleth said faintly. Her brow wrinkled and she frowned. Etan's heart sank.

Etan and Borsche discussed a few details, then Etan excused him. "Please stay close, though, Borsche. I imagine we'll be making decisions very soon."

The man nodded, bowed to Ayleth, who acknowledged him distractedly, frowning at the table, her brow furrowed.

When they were alone again, Etan steeled himself and walked around the table to take the seat next to her.

She turned to face him and he saw the determination in her. But to what end?

"Please, Ayleth. I understand that it burns… but please… the only answer is to remove the King and Queen and return you to the throne. It saves both our Kingdoms from more war and more death. It's the only way to keep everyone safe!"

"Etan…"

"I will give you the rule of your people when they're freed, I will not interfere—"

"You? You will give me the rule of Zenithra? No, Etan, the rule is mine if my parents are killed, no matter the source of their deaths."

Etan begged to differ. She did not understand how transfers of power worked. But he ached to soothe her, and so only nodded. Did it matter if she believed she would simply ascend if another Kingdom routed Zenithra?

"This is all so ugly," she said a moment later, her eyes sad and angry. "I have not seen this side of you, Etan. You are… cold."

"No, Ayleth, please… I am… I cannot do the things that must be done and allow myself to feel them. They will defeat me. Please… You have to see that I never wanted to do this. Please, do not hold the rules of war against me. I cannot let my people suffer for my personal needs. But I need you. I need you on my side. Please!"

Ayleth shivered and her face crumpled. "What you ask of me—"

Etan dropped his head and took her hand in his. "I do not ask it lightly, Ayleth. I vow to you, this sickens me."

"If I am to say it… to declare their deaths…" A tiny sob broke in her chest and he squeezed her hand, praying she would give in. But a moment later she pulled her hand from his grip and stood, rushing towards the door. "I'm sorry, I need more time. I cannot… this is too much."

She rushed from the room, fighting tears. Despairing, Etan watched her leave and stood as if to follow her, but there was no time.

But if he were to declare it himself? How would he feel if Ayleth made such a command over his parents? But hers had! He had lost both his most precious family…

The council leader peered in through the door.

"Ten minutes," Etan muttered. "Just a few minutes, please."

The Councilman nodded and closed the door Ayleth had left wide, leaving Etan there, head once again in his hands.

*****

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