Pretender to the Throne(14)

                He’d found a strange relief in it. In being around all that sin in the open. Because it was the secrets, the pretense of civility, he couldn’t handle.

                And now he was back in the palace. Center stage for the show. Back in chains. Pretending to be someone he was never born to be.

                He threw the magazines down onto the bed and looked around. He’d expected a few more ghosts. Or something. But he felt the same as he had before returning home.

                Shame and regret were his second skin. They existed with him, over him. And so he’d spent his life reveling in the most shameful things imaginable. He would feel it either way. At least if he sought it out, it was his choice. Not something forced upon him by life.

                Like standing beneath water that was too hot. Until you were scalded to the point where you didn’t feel it anymore.

                In truth, it had worked to a degree.

                But only to a degree.

                He pushed his hands through his hair and turned toward where his suitcases had been put. He would need ties, he supposed. He didn’t wear ties. One of the things he’d cast off when he’d left Kyonos.

                For now, he just had his suits and shirts he wore open-collared, but it would have to do. Just the thought of ties made it feel hard to breathe. Or maybe it was the palace in general.

                Her pulled open the door to his room and stalked down the corridor, not sure where he was going. He grabbed the passing housekeeper. “Where is Layna?”

                “Oh!” She looked completely shocked. “Your Highness...”

                “Xander,” he said. He had no patience for station and title. “Which room is she in?”

                “Ms. Xenakos is in the east wing, in the Cream Suite.”

                “Great.” He started in that direction. Because there was nothing else to do. There was no one else in the palace he wanted to talk to.

                He wasn’t certain why that was. He should seek out his father’s major domo. He should go and see his father, who was in the hospital. He should call his sister.

                He didn’t do any of those things. He just walked through the expansive corridors, past openmouthed palace staff, and toward the Cream Suite. He got lost. Twice. It was an embarrassment, but he just kept going until he got his bearings again.

                Then he pushed open the heavy wooden doors without knocking, and saw Layna, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her face snapped up, and again, he was shocked by her appearance.

                It hit him like a slug to the gut. She had been so beautiful. So many beautiful things had been destroyed in that time. Either by his actions, or his very birth. The fault was bred into him, in many ways.

                “What are you doing?”

                “I’m here to speak to you. And to...escort you to dinner.”

                It had been a long time since he’d escorted a woman to dinner. Usually he had sex with them, then they ordered room service and ate it naked. Although, on a good night, he kicked the woman out quickly, then ate room service by himself.

                She blinked. “Escort me to dinner? Where?”

                “Here will do. The staff has been alerted to my presence, and I have no doubt they’re eager to welcome me back with my favorite food,” he said, his tone dry. “Or at the very least they won’t let me starve.”