Threads of Fate

Chapter 61 ~ I Want Everything

The hour was late before Tissaia finally made her way to the bedroom she and Azael continued to share. She had sat with Talarion for a few hours before he persuaded her to go join the others, though he denied her attempts to persuade him to come along.

He had last been seen by Vael returning to the temple's inner sanctum. That assured her that he wasn't doing anything stupid at least, and Tissaia was content to let him alone for now as that seemed to be what he desired. She reached the bedroom and eased the door open.

Azael was stooped over the rickety writing desk in the corner of the room, his maps still strewn out before him. "Gaelen and I are going to scout as far as we can tomorrow after the storm finishes itself off," he said in acknowledgment, but didn't lift his gaze from the maps. "To get a feel for what our path is going to be like, and see if we can pick up any traces of your father."

Tissaia perched on the edge of the bed and bent to remove her boots. "My father isn't the only one that needs to be discussed." Tension gathered in Azael's shoulders, though wavy locks of hair kept his expression hidden from her view. "Gaelen referred to you as the King. Do you intend to challenge Mavron when we go back to Arcan?"

He didn't answer immediately and massaged his forehead with a thick sigh. "I don't know. I've been trying to figure that out. There is so much that needs to be done. I have to address the bandits plaguing the Vidar refugees, not to mention the growing number of Blood Fae within the forest."

"And I believe we need to try to track down Astaroth, wherever he might be hidden or imprisoned. But there's only so much I can do while my father has the authority to overrule any decision I make." He lifted his gaze to hers, and she was surprised by the amount of guilt within it.

"Maybe it would be the right thing to do, forcing him to abdicate and taking his crown. But I don't think I can do that to him. That's not how I want my reign to begin, and he's still my father. He has his flaws, but he's not entirely a bad male. Perhaps there is a way I can let him remain a figurehead while granting his authority over to myself."

"And if not?" Tissaia asked.

"Then I'll have to make a choice whether to do what is in the best interest of my father, or Asterria."

"What will be in your best interest?

"I don't know." Azael swiped a hand across his face again, then shook his head. "Let's just focus on one thing at a time for now. Your father first, then mine." She smiled at that, but soon furrowed her brows as he gave her another conflicting look. His lips parted, but no words emerged. Azael swallowed, then hesitantly, he asked, "May I see your scars?"

Tissaia stiffened and dread wormed through her stomach until she thought she might be sick. The ugly marks hidden beneath her clothes almost seemed to throb as a shudder ran down her spine. He wanted to see them. The truth of her failures. The marks she had never been able to show him. The ones she couldn't stand to look at herself.

She met Azael's pale blue gaze once more and drew a few measured breaths. He had given her every vulnerable truth, every secret he'd ever kept from her, even those that might have driven her away. And she had chosen to remain with him regardless, because she loved him. If he truly loved her too, these disfigurements would change nothing.

Still, she found her hands shaking even as she nodded and began to remove the layers of fabric concealing them. "Most of them are on my back," Tissaia admitted, shrugging out of her vest.

She tugged at the laces of her shirt while Azael quietly came to stand beside her. She twisted on the bed so he'd be able to see her back, and pulled her shirt off. She could stop there, she knew. She could let her hair and undergarment hide the worst of the marks, towards the center of her back. But if they were going to make this work, she would have to learn to trust herself with him completely.