Page 5 of The Last Guardian

Lyra threw peanuts at his face while whispering, “Shut up!”

“I am not fucking him anymore,” I corrected him, rolling my eyes. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

Two years, actually. Nevan had joined the East’s Legion six years ago when he and I were getting to know each other, getting closer. The year before Mother died, he came to visit me a lot, and the bond between us had evolved. Until Nevan told me he loved me. Since then, something broke between us. Because I never said it back.

Why?

Because, like all princesses of the Empire, I’d been promised to someone else since birth. It wasn’t like Nevan and I had a future together. Loving him would have been madness.

Love was the line I refused to cross.

I had always had a deep affection for him, though, a soft spot, reserved for the first boy, the only boy, I’d ever known in that way. But it wasn’t love; I would never have allowed it with anyone. Love was the only thing I had control over.

Nevan never accepted it, and he never accepted how I’d changed since Mother’s death. We drifted apart from that moment on. For the first three years, Nevan still came to Lorath once or twice a month to visit his younger brother, Finn, who still lived in town, and each time he returned, Nevan made time to see me. I knew he was trying to get me to say those words. I never did.

Two years ago, Nevan stopped coming, stopped trying, and I let the distance settle between us.

“Good,” Dorian snickered, eating the peanuts Lyra threw at him. “He’s an asshole.”

“You don’t know him at all,” I argued with a frown.

Piercing fiddle rhythms throbbed through the room, and Dorian watched the brunette, who curled her fingers for him to join her. “I know enough of him.” Dorian shrugged and gulped his drink in a swift movement as he rose from his seat. “If you will excuse me, ladies, I am going to enjoy my evening with the wonderful woman who is fucking me with her doe eyes.”

Lyra rolled her eyes as I shook my head, and Dorian left us there with a smirk on his face.

“Men, am I right?” Lyra whispered, sipping her pint. Then she added, “Finn told me Nevan’s going to be here for the wedding… Are you going to see him?”

A few weeks ago, Nevan had sent me a letter about his upcoming visit to Lorath. He told me he wanted to see me and talk about a pressing matter, and I agreed to meet him.

“Yes, but not for that,” I answered flatly, my fingers turned the charm around my neck. “Just to talk. I need to be careful, though. The Rotunberg will be there for the wedding…”

“Oh, and the betrothed, too,” Lyra hissed, crinkling her nose.

Thinking about him was enough to make me nauseous.

“Yes, if Father knows I am meeting with a man other than this prick he chose for me, I am not sure what he will do…”

Rune Rotunberg was one of the three princes of Boren, our neighboring kingdom. My betrothed. Although he had shown no interest in me ever—thank the stars! Each time we saw each other, his attention always focused on other women in the ballrooms.

Rune was disgusting, a filthy, leering pig who never shut his mouth about women and what he wanted to do to them in vile detail. He had the audacity to tell me the most horrible thing each time we saw each other—how, once we were married, he’d make me watch while he fucked other girls.

Everything a girl wants to hear, right?

In a year or two, maybe sooner, we’d be stuck in that nightmare of a marriage; it would definitely happen before my twenty-fifth birthday.

But it would not be before Arthur’s wedding. Now that Aurora was about to get married, Father’s priority would be to ensure that Arthur found his future queen.

A shadow fell over us as Lyra and I turned to face Finn’s blue eyes.

“Evening, sweethearts.” Finn grinned, and his fiery gaze fell on Lyra. “Care to join me for a dance?” He arched an eyebrow.

Lyra glanced at me to make sure I didn’t need her. I nodded at her with a soft smile. One of us needed to have fun.

She grinned at Finn, got up from her chair, and took his hand in hers. “It’s hard to say no to that pretty face.” Lyra took his hand and followed him to the dance floor.

The front door opened, and my gaze fell on the man who had stepped inside. Lyra tensed when she looked at him, then darted her gaze to focus on Finn. Arthur’s jaw tightened when he saw Finn’s hand grabbing Lyra by the hips as he spun her around; her curly red hair blew in the air. Her laugh burst forth, ringing through the room.

Arthur made his way to the table, sat next to me, and his gaze traveled around the room, observing the people dancing. A grim look haunted his face—he looked exhausted, sad.