Sylas

The night the manor burned, Father’s blood stained my hands. Smoke filled my lungs. ash stung my eyes, twigs cut at my bare feet—a consistent sting even as my skin healed instantly. Through the trees, my home went up in flames. Somewhere nearby, the strangers who tried to take my head waited. They failed in their first attempt and thought burning the manor may spell my end. Everyone inside died because of me.

A cry slipped out. I threw a hand over my mouth to silence it. I couldn’t risk going to Foster because Father told me the truth. He told me who I was, why I was there, that life would never be the same, and I couldn’t trust anyone. I wasn’t safe, so Foster wouldn’t be either. I snuck into the night, knowing I would never see him again.

Now here he is, standing in my office thirteen years later. A day hasn’t gone by when I haven’t thought of him. The castle garden reminds me of his eyes, a lush and enchanting green. His hair catches the light, red as flames. Freckles cover his warm white skin and the necklace is there, nearly too small now as it gently hugs his neck. The deep blue has faded, same as mine.

I want to hold him.

I want to take him far away.

I want to tell him everything that has happened.

I hope he never learns the truth.

I want to trust him as I once did.

However, a paranoia has taken root. For him to arrive now, when my enemies are rising and they’re seeking every possibility to drag me down, why is he here? Is this a trick? Have they gotten to him? How do I know he is who I hope he is? One in my position cannot afford to believe in coincidences or entertain optimism.

“You need an attendant, Your Majesty,” Harvey says. “After the abrupt firing of your previous attendant, I took it upon myself to find a new one for you. Mr. Laywell was kind enough to speak with me and has agreed to the position. I thought you may feel more comfortable with someone you know.”

Harvey could not be more wrong. This could be my ruin, all of our ruin, and I may walk into this trap with a blissful smile if Foster doesn’t leave now.

“Get out,” I order.

“I know you did not ask for me to be here, Your Majesty, but I sincerely hope that I may stay, even if it is not as your personal attendant,” Foster’s voice makes my breath catch.

He can’t be here. He has to leave.

“What makes you think you may make such a request?” My words hurt him. His hands always shook when he was holding himself back from anger or pain. They shake now as he hides them behind his back. It makes me want to believe he isn’t here for nefarious purposes. Such thoughts are a weakness and a threat.

“I have learned over the years that I must speak my mind or others will decide for me.”

Who hurt you? I want to ask because I’ll find them and make them regret it, but that is the problem. Once anyone realizes who Foster is, nothing good will come of it. If Foster has changed and my enemies already have him, this will spell a dreadful end for more than myself.

“It is a king’s duty to make decisions for others. Perhaps you need to be reminded.”

“Any king makes decisions for his country, but good kings make decisions with his people in mind,” he argues.

Harvey opens his stupid mouth. I hold up my hand, silencing him.

“Can I at least be granted a chance to prove my work ethic?” Foster asks.

“No. You are not wanted nor needed.” I’ve never told a bigger lie, but it has to be done.

I repeat my order for him to leave, grateful that Harvey gives in easily enough. He escorts Foster out of the room.

After the doors close and the sound of their steps dissipates, I shove everything off the desk. My hand fumbles into my pocket to grasp an old necklace so terribly frayed that it’s more string now than jewelry. Conflicting emotions tear me apart. But no matter what I truly want, Foster cannot stay.

There are dozens of reasons I never reached out to him, all ultimately to keep him safe. Now, more than ever, I have enemies and those enemies have taken so much. I have to assume they’ve taken him, too, or at the very least that they plan to.

No one was meant to learn about Foster. Harvey only knows because I made the grave decision in my youth to agree to a stranger’s experiment; could a vampire get drunk off a drunk man’s blood? There are answers, but I didn’t know it then. At nineteen years old, I couldn’t deny I was curious, then I stumbled drunkenly back to the base and said far more than I should to a far too amused Harvey.

Speaking of, he returns not long later. Papers lay scattered throughout my office. Harvey takes to collecting them, remaining silent until my sharp tongue snaps, “What kind of fool are you to have brought him here?”

“You’ve been stressed. We’ve all been put through a lot, but you most of all. I know what he means to you,” Harvey replies.

“Then you know you have made the worst decision of them all. Ezra wants my head. He yearns to parade me broken and bloody through the streets, as his father did to my mother. What do you think he will do if he gets his hands on Foster?” I hate to speak the possibility aloud. “What if he has gotten to Foster already, and he is here with ill intent?”

“I understand your concern, but I went to Foster.”

That makes me suspect Harvey, makes me want to rip through his office for secrets and lies. He is one of the few close to me. There is no one better to deceive me.

“That means nothing,” I growl, keeping any suspicion to myself. I will ask Violet to inspect Harvey’s office and track his whereabouts over the coming days. “Foster could have been waiting. Why else would he be here now when Ezra has more power and support than ever?”

“Because he cares about you.”

“That was a long time ago. To leave his hometown, his job, all for someone he knew in his youth? It is suspicious.”

Harvey sits the papers on my desk. He leans forward, eyes cutting deeper than a blade. “Believe it or not, Sylas, not everyone is out to get you.”

“My life has done nothing but prove otherwise.”

“Violet and I remain with you, don’t we?”

My hesitation brings about his heavy sigh.

“Foster is here for you because the both of you still care.” Harvey stands and tugs on the end of his jacket, adjusting it. “I am sorry for doing this without your permission. You are right, Ezra has come into more power over this last year, and I have been worried he would find Foster through the money we’ve been sending. We both hate to admit this, but Ezra is too smart for his own good. It is better for Foster to be here where we can keep him safe and he can help you.”

If Ezra hasn’t gotten to him already. The fear is there now, gnawing at my senses because my enemies have achieved this before. They put others beside me waiting for a moment to strike and I nearly lost my life.

“You’re wrong and you will escort him home tomorrow with a dozen guards. They will keep watch over Foster from a distance to keep him safe or to determine the truth.” My tone is final. I’ve perfected it, and without Foster here, I can maintain the facade with ease.

Harvey nods, but I know come tomorrow, Foster will try to stay because my enemies have ordered him to or because of his own stubborn nature. So when the night grows late, I tug on the chain in my chambers to summon him. Moments later, he knocks and my bedroom door opens.

“Shut the door.” The handle clicks. His footsteps grow closer. I take a drink to stall because I hate this paranoia, this disbelief in everyone surrounding me. Anyone who could have a dagger in their back pocket waiting to drive any hope from my chest. “Harvey was insistent that I reconsider.”

“Have you reconsidered?” he asks in a voice so soft one without my hearing would struggle to understand. Is his hope authentic? Is he truly here with no ill intent? Can I still trust him?

I set my glass aside to approach. Foster doesn’t back away. He meets my eyes with a recognizable stubbornness, and I want that to mean he hasn’t changed.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“To work.”

I lean in to further examine his expression. It appears genuine, but I ask again, “Why are you here, Foster?”

“Can’t you guess?”

I want my guess to be right. The more he speaks, the more I believe he’s being honest, and I don’t know if that is worse.

“All these years, I thought you died that night. I thought you were terrified, in pain, and worst of all, alone. I’ve dreamt about that fire over and over, you lost in the flames, so when a stranger showed up telling me you had survived, I… well, I thought it was a piss poor joke, but I hoped, Gods, I hoped it were true. What I’m trying to say is, I wanted to see you, to know he told the truth.”

I wanted to see you, too. There’s so much I want to tell you, even more I want to ask, but I can’t and shouldn’t and won’t.

“Well, you know now.” I turn away before I make any mistakes and fall onto the sofa. “Since your curiosity is sated, Harvey will escort you home tomorrow, as decided.”

“My curiosity? Are you—?!” There it is. The attitude in his voice. His mother had to keep him in the kitchens sometimes when we had guests. If any said the wrong thing, especially to me, Foster was there with a snarky remark that got him into far too much trouble. I loved it, but he holds back now and simply chuckles.

“Does something amuse you?” I ask.

“No, Your Majesty, I suppose I expected more.”

“More?” When I look at him, his disappointment is evident. Good. That’s what I need for him to leave.