Thorns Of Ruin

Chapter 2

My hands trembled as I walked away from the meeting room with Ryland in step beside me. All I wanted was to go to my room and rest, but instead, I was on my way to my father's study. After Ryland and I left, he sent a servant to tell me that he wanted to meet with me privately.

I hate the nervousness I felt with each step. There was a time not so long ago when I would have raced to his side without hesitation. He's all I've ever had in this world. His presence would always bring comfort and part of me still longs for that. Yet lately, it feels like I've been seeing more of my king than my father. My king who expected more from me than I think I can bear.

When we reached the heavy door, I turned to Ryland with a weak smile. "Thank you, Ry. I'll be alright, you can go."

He arched an eyebrow and smirked, "You sure? I was totally about to burst in there and rescue you from a tense conversation. What do you think would be better? Screaming bloody murder or simply collapsing and faking death?"

I let out a laugh and shook my head at him, "Right, like you would ever pull a prank on the king."

"What? You want me to actually collapse to my death? I could manage that, but you'll have to tell my mother I died a hero."

"You're ridiculous." I rolled my eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Thank you, but I think I can manage a conversation with my father."

He smiled back at me but I could see the hidden concern in his eyes, "Fine, I will go. But I'm not far if you need me, okay?"

I gave a curt nod and patted his shoulder, "Thanks, Ry."

With that, I turned and pushed the door open and it cracked with every inch. When I stepped inside I saw Father sitting behind his massive oak desk. He looked up at me and his sharp expression softened, emulating the father I love and cherish. A stark contrast to the king I was just with in the meeting room.

"My dear." His voice was tender.

"Father." I bowed before sitting myself down in one of the chairs across from his desk.

He watched me carefully for a moment. "I know you are upset," he began quietly, "about the healing."

I bit my lip, unsure of how to respond. Of course, I was upset. I wanted to beg him to change his mind, but I knew it would do nothing. I knew what he was going to say. What he always said.

My throat closed but I willed myself to speak, "It's barely been a week."

The healings have become more frequent in recent years. As a child they were rare, only maybe a few times a year, then they slowly turned into once every couple of months. But something changed last year. Around the same time that Father decided I was to attend the meetings with the Lords, he also started having Healings almost every month. But this? A week? I've barely recovered from the last one.

He sighed and I could feel the weight in it. The weight of the crown. Of the kingdom. "The people are in need and it is our duty to help them."

I felt a familiar pang in my chest. "I know of my duties, father." His eyebrows raised at the sharpness I let slip through my voice but I quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"You were born for this, Verity." he interrupted. "A blessing to this kingdom. A gift, that many kingdoms would do anything to possess. You know how important you are. A symbol of hope and power. We need that now more than ever."

I nodded, the guilt he intended to spark now heavy in my chest. Of course, I knew. I knew my role. But that was the problem, it is all that I am. There is no relief. Just a vicious cycle of being used for the greater good of the kingdom and then praised for it while I slowly fade.