Kevaan had hired more men to keep watch on the borders and to patrol through the towns to keep an eye on visiting strangers. All accounts claimed the same reports: hoarders that made their way through and created havoc as they passed.
He was concerned, not only about his people, but about the power that Fallon seemed to possess. He wondered if he was really the one making the rules, or if Jaron was pulling his strings.
Jaron was no one, or nothing, to be trifled with. Every time Kevaan was near him, the blood in his veins turned to ice, and he had to fight to form a thought in his head. He was evil, in all sense of the definition, but Kevaan, although cautious, was not yet too afraid to allow him inside his soul. He knew he probably should be, but his love for his realm, his father, and his sister’s safety kept him from allowing the being to rule him. He would not cross him, but he would steel himself against his constant push for as long as he was sane.
He allowed his mind to wander now to his sister on the other side of the kingdom. Safe for the time being under King Dainard’s watch, but he wondered if he had something to worry about in Dainard himself.
He knew the reputation of the southern king, his way with the ladies and his lack of self control when it came to them. Alek had assured him that although he was restless and tended to enjoy himself way too much, he would do his duty to protect Melenthia with honor. Alek assured him that he would do nothing to cause her to become upset. He assured Kevaan that he would be a gentleman.
Kevaan knew his sister, and poetic words and rugged good looks did not sway her opinion of men and their predatory nature. She felt that talk meant nothing but a brief interlude to lure you into false security, then by the time you realized it was all nothing but a peacocks strut, it was too late. She did not fall easily for a handsome face, and less so for flattering words. But this king was not like any other man. He was smooth, and good looking, and he had never lost a conquest. Melenthia’s lack of naivety would only spur the king on, making her his biggest challenge. Men were men, and a challenge could never be brushed off. Competition was in their blood.
He sighed. Perhaps he had been too hasty to ask this favor. Maybe he put her in too much of an awkward position. He knew she could take care of herself but also knew that she needed to remain calm or she might do something rash.
He wanted to believe what Alek said was true, but something inside him caused him to doubt. He could do nothing about it on this side of the province however, so until he got news otherwise, he’d try to forget about it. He had bigger problems. He was supposed to meet with Alek and share what he knew. He hoped he could slip out of here without Fallon’s spies watching. He didn’t want to leave his father, but he had to get information from wherever he could get it.
His father seemed to be less and less himself as the days wore on. He seemed distant and lost, and every decision he’d made up to this point was not in the interest of anything he cared about: his people, his kingdom or even his family.
The pact he made with Fallon was unforgivable, but he wondered if he even knew what it meant. He wondered if the fear Fallon or his counselor was putting into his heart was overwhelming him, pushing him into doing things he would have otherwise fought against.
He knew that Melenthia was strong willed and obstinate, but his father loved her with all his being. Kevaan was the son, and most would say that the son is the most important one in a royal line, but he knew his father did not see it that way. Melenthia was his joy, his muse, and he loved her like no other. She reminded him of their mother, and that was what allowed Melenthia to get away with what she had. Their mother was alive in her, and the king wanted nothing more than to embrace her and dote on her as if his wife was still alive. Her memory was alive in Melenthia.
He wondered when Fallon had first put the idea into his father’s head. Had it been the night of her twenty-first birthday? Had Fallon, after being refused by Melenthia and thwarted by himself, begun the negotiations that night, right under Kevaan’s nose? He shuddered to think what would have happened if he had not noticed her obvious panic. She may have appeared calm in Fallon’s eyes, but Kevaan knew his sister well and had seen the fear on what seemed like a calm countenance.
Fallon would have taken what he wanted, with no regard for her or their father. Then she would’ve been spoiled and ruined for any other man. He would’ve then offered marriage anyway, pretending to be the hero who would save her from a life of spinsterhood.
He clenched his jaw and his fists. He wanted Melenthia no matter the cost, no matter the obstacle, and they had better find a way to stop him or he would prevail eventually.