“Stop saying my name. I’ve been begging you to talk to me for weeks. I knew – I knew – something was coming and I’ve spent every moment of every day trying to find a way to make it work. Trying to find a way of not losing you. I thought you felt the same. I thought…” He didn’t finish, instead turning and moving away.
“Rasmus, wait,” Sorrow called, fear making her voice high. It couldn’t end like this. She couldn’t lose him completely. She needed him.
He kept walking, and the shock of it rooted her to the spot. He was going to leave her there. But then he stopped, and turned back to her.
“What?”
“I don’t want…” She didn’t know how to finish. “You’re my best friend,” she pleaded.
“That’s just it, Row. That’s all I ever was. You never thought of me as more than that. And I was stupid enough to think that one day you might. To hope for it.”
Sorrow couldn’t breathe. As she looked into his desolate face, she realized she’d made a mistake – many mistakes. She’d told herself it was kinder to not talk about it, but all she’d done was lead him on. Every time she’d promised they’d talk, she’d made him believe there was something to talk about. When she knew there wasn’t. That there could never be. And if she lost him now, there was no one to blame but herself.
“We knew this couldn’t last for ever,” was all she dared to say, the words a whisper.
He opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “I wasn’t asking for forever. I wasn’t asking you to be my bride, or my one true love. I was asking for now. What I wanted was a chance to see if there was something more to us than sneaking to each other’s rooms, and being gone by sunrise. A chance. But I never had one, did I?”
He waited for her to respond. But Sorrow had nothing. His words beat against her skull until they made no sense, and all the while they stared at each other.
After a long time, when the silence between them had grown so much it might as well have been a wall, he turned and walked away, slowly, measured, his tread soft. She heard the faint click of the door as he closed, not slammed, it behind him.
Sorrow didn’t know how long she stood there, her mind frantically searching for a solution, a way to bridge the horrible chasm that had opened between them. They’d argued before, of course they had – they’d been in each other’s lives for the past ten years – but never, ever anything that felt this final.
When the door opened again, her heart leapt, only to plummet when Charon appeared, his wheels silent on the floor, fully dressed despite the hour. How long had he been out there?
“I was just…” Sorrow began, trailing off when he looked beyond her to the half-covered portrait of Mael.
Charon said nothing, moving into the room, his head canting to the side as he gazed at the picture.
“It’s uncanny,” he said, “in the true sense of the word, how much the boy they have looks like this.”
Sorrow could only nod.
“What have you done?” Charon tore his gaze from the painting and looked at Sorrow. “I heard you. Both of you.”
Sorrow’s blood ran cold. “Charon…”
“You lied to me. To my face.” The words were coated in ice, sharp like knives. “How could you be so stupid?”
“We never meant for anything to happen—”
“How long has this been going on?”
Sorrow paused. “Eighteen months,” she said finally.
“And you’ve been to bed with him, Sorrow? For the Grace’s sake, you’re seventeen.”
“So I’m old enough to be chancellor presumpt, but not to have sex?” Sorrow’s rage flared then, and she whirled on the vice chancellor. “But, of course, the Jedenvat will have a hand in the chancellorship until I’m twenty-one. I guess I’m old enough to be your puppet, but not to take a lover.”
Charon’s bronze skin turned grey, and Sorrow immediately felt remorse. “I didn’t mean it,” she said instantly. “I take it back; I’m sorry.”
Charon didn’t reply for a moment, and Sorrow dropped to her knees, meeting him at eye level. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
He reached out for her hand. “Sorrow…” He shook his head. “It’s treason,” he said softly. “It’s not that you’ve … formed an attachment. What you’ve both done is treason, in the eyes of your respective countries. A death sentence, in Rhylla. Life imprisonment here, at the very least.” He paused. “Do you understand the position you’ve put me in?”
Sorrow hung her head.
“I’m the vice chancellor of Rhannon. My job is to uphold all of our laws, to mediate the Jedenvat, and to counsel the chancellor. My job is to be impartial, and see that the good of Rhannon is served. Above all things. Above all people.”
The bones in her legs turned liquid then, and she sat back on her knees, her hand slipping from Charon’s grasp.
“But it’s over now. We both swore that once I had to become chancellor, we’d end it.” She could hear her voice becoming shriller and shriller. “Please don’t punish him. I’ve already hurt him so much. There’s no real harm done. No one knows. No one ever will. Charon, it’s over. If you heard us you know that. He can’t stand me now.” The words felt like a knife in her chest, twisting, as fresh tears threatened to fall. Sorrow’s eyes were wide, pleading, as she met the gaze of the vice chancellor.
“I have loved you as a daughter,” Charon said. “To my detriment, it seems. I’m not going to have you arrested. Either of you. The country finding out the chancellor’s daughter has been having an affair with the Rhyllian queen’s nephew would be the final straw.” He paused. “Rasmus is to go. Immediately. Back to Rhylla, and neither of you is to speak to, nor contact, the other again.”
He reached out, leaning forward to cup her cheek. “I should have paid more attention,” he said. “Does Irris know?”
“No.” This time the lie was instant. “No. She would have been furious. She would have told you.”
“That’s something, at least. And I don’t see that she needs to know. No one does. It will remain between us. I’ll go to the boy and send him away, and that will be the end of it. After tonight, we won’t speak of it again, and we will act as if it never happened. Get some rest.” Charon withdrew his hand from her face and placed it on his wheel, turning it sharply. “Tomorrow is going to be a long and hard day and I need you to be ready for it.”
Sorrow nodded, watching him as he glided across the floor.
“Cover the painting before you leave,” he called from the doorway. “We’re going to need it tomorrow. Oh, and Sorrow?” He kept his back to her. “Is there… Is there any possibility you’re with child?”
“No,” she replied, the skin on her face and chest burning. “We were careful.”
He paused, and Sorrow had the sense he might say something. But then he nodded, and wheeled himself away.
She covered the painting and made her way slowly back to the Goldcrest wing, her legs leaden, her heart a rock inside her chest.
When she reached her room her gaze fell on the balcony doors, still open, the curtains billowing gently. She crossed the room and shut the doors, closing them against the stars, the cool night air, and the possibility of a life that she could never have.