Page 46 of The Blade in the Ashes
It was his name that she breathed with reverence.
“Yours. Only yours, Caldrius. Forever.”
I watched them.
I watched him bend her forward and grasp hold of her waist. I watched him sink inside her. Watched her scream for him. Watched him claim both her body and her heart.
And I couldn’t stop it.
The nightmare haunted me for hours after I woke.
Even as I kept myself busy, making travel preparations, checking on the citizens, ensuring that the generals were aware of their orders in my upcoming absence, my mind could not free itself from the vision of Thea and Caldrius together.
I wasn’t sure what was worse, watching them together in my dreams or fearing what he was doing to her in my waking hours.
Both were insufferable, impossible, and completely unavoidable.
How could I possibly lead a war when I felt like my soul had been split in half? Part of me was here with what remained of my kingdom, and part of me was with her.
The two great loves of my life, and neither of them were within my grasp.
I ran my tongue over my upper teeth, trying to avoid that thought spiraling any further. Lamplight flickered in my room, sending shadows dancing in the corners as I wrote out several missives of instructions for while I was away in the Republic of Inanis.
In the quiet, the sudden knock at the door seemed to echo.
“Come in.”
The knob twisted, and the wooden door pushed open slowly, tentatively.
“You wanted to see me?” Camilla asked, her voice unsure, as if she couldn’t quite imagine why I would have requested her presence.
I nodded and gestured towards the seat on my left, watching as she moved to sit. She slumped her shoulders and moved unsteadily.
She was almost unrecognizable.
I’d known Camilla for just under a decade. During the briefest of periods, I think I might have known her better than anyone else, and while our entanglement had been built on physical intimacy more than any real emotional connection, I had cared for her in my own way. I still did, despite everything.
This version of her was leagues away from the girl she had once been, though.
Then, Camilla had worn only the finest of dresses, perfectly fit to her body and carefully designed to accentuate her curves. She had walked into every room with confidence, even if she had to fake the feeling.
“Is there something you need?” Her voice was quiet as she sat and tucked one ankle over the other.
Now, she wore men’s trousers and an oversized linen shirt, covered with a thick apron that was splattered with what appeared to be dried blood. Her tan face was free of any cosmetics, and her long hair, while still worn loose, sat in tangled knots down her back.
They were slight changes, but important ones, nonetheless. The kinds of changes I’d seen in her over the past few weeks were enough to give me hope that I was making the right decision.
“This is for you.” I handed her the folded parchment I’d just finished drafting.
It had taken me hours to bring myself to write it, and doubt had fluttered in my gut the entire time I had penned the words.
“What is it?” She asked with a furrowed brow.
I stared down at the wax sealing shut the order that could potentially be my damnation. “That is my first Royal Decree, in which I’m naming you Regent to the Crown.”
Her breath hitched just as my stomach dropped. I’d debated with myself for days over whom to name, before, unhappily, deciding on Camilla.
She shook her head in disbelief. “No.”
