The Spare To The Throne

Chapter 60: Sweet Return

The library's fireplace snips and snaps as crispy wood radiates blazing heat. Edwin had brought me tea moments ago and I thanked him.

He apologized profusely, finding peace in indulging in a continuous self-scold since he feels it's his fault that the accident I was in happened. Obviously, this isn't true and I told him that. Still, he grits his teeth in self loathe.

"You meant well, Edwin. None of this is your fault," I reassure.

"If only that were true, miss," he slides a box of sugar cubes onto the table. "If there's anything you need, please, just call on me."

I wish he'd see things from my perspective. The person to blame is dead and it's not him. Not to mention, I'm sure Xavier gave him the permission to let me go. And it's apparent that even he beats himself up over this too.

He's not sleeping at night. I can hear his footsteps trek the house during random hours the sun is absent. Sometimes I hear him in his office either typing or talking. The house is eerily quiet so even his hushed pitch falls easily on my ears. He's also made it a habit to check in on me while I sleep. I can't say I mind it though, but I am concerned. He's tired and it shows in his weary tone, sluggish demeanor and restlessness.

Just the mere thought of him, the sound of his name, leaves me in nerve-wrecking tingles. I had another dream of him last night. This time, we were in the bathroom. He had just finished rinsing me off just like the night he helped me bathe. I wasn't bruised or weak though, so why?

It all happened so fast, one minute I was on the counter, his lips attached to my perky breasts. Warm and soft. All throughout, he spoke to me low in French. His words were incomprehensible but not once did I want him to stop. When his lips pecked their way down to the boundary no man has ever dared to cross, I woke up exasperated in a heaping sweat.

I breathed his name like it was the oxygen I need itself. My head was in a daze, I was on a high. It was all so intoxicating. And I hate myself for it. I hate that these stupid dreams were haunting me. I'd much prefer the nightmare of the car crash.

That's not true.

The voice within counters. But I want it to be true. Things would be the tiniest bit of less complicated if it were. I tear my gaze from the golden red furnace. No ones in the house except me and Edwin. Xavier left to go see Hakeem not too long ago. According to him, I'm not suppose to "stress my body with so too movement." I need to stay in and heal.

Despite wanting to go see Willow, I decide to oblige to Xavier's wishes only because I find myself shaking whenever we're close in proximity. A car ride with him will be completely intolerable.

When will he be back?

I dismiss the thought, disregarding it with contempt. I don't care. It doesn't matter. Patting the cover of the book in my lap, I force myself to channel all my energy towards the unfinished story: "The Broken King."

It's been a while since I've read this book. I want to finish it. Quickly, I skim over the previous chapter to rejog my memory, recapping how king Adonis slapped Roselyn after she confronts him about being unworthy of her heart. She tells him he's underserving of the title as king and that seemed to set it off for him. He starves her, ending the chapter with abuse, but he believes it's proper training for a future queen. My stomach churns at this, but I continue on.

Chapter 4

Years passed and Roselyn gave in to the king's irrefutable reign. He morphed his lover notably through long periods of cruelty. Roselyn's strength withered as she soon realized that her fight is no match for the king. She belonged to him and her fate was inescapable. Despite his ruthless torment, the king did love, Roselyn. He loved her more than he loved himself. So when her 'nos' became 'yeses' and her rebellions turned to submissions, he wived her.