The Nechi's Wife

✣ chapter twelve ✣

Sorry for the long wait.

Flynd's POV

The morning sun glimmering behind my curtains was the first thing I noticed when my eyes opened. The light was faint, indicating that I'd woken up too early. As usual. But I took after my mother in that regard.

She often said the morning was the best time to reflect and reminisce. And in turn, while Father spent his mornings behind a desk, scribbling on parchment with an ink quill, she'd rouse me from my sleep and throw open my windows.

"Look," She'd marvel, laughing at the sky. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"I don't know," I'd mumble, my unappreciative eyes too tired to see the beauty of the Earth's natural cycle.

She was patient, but my immature behavior wasn't eased by the passage of time. Soon, she gave up, lost hope in me. Stopped coming to my room in the mornings. And then she was gone, crumbled into dust. Swept away by the forceful Aranian gales.

And now, here I was. Unable to sleep past five in the morning because of my guilt and shame. One would think catching the sunrise before it transformed into stormy Aranian skies was remedying, but it wasn't. It was simply a habit I couldn't overcome.

As I dressed, not bothering to call for servants' help, I tried to distract myself from thoughts of my mother. I had failed her, in all senses of the word, and I didn't need more reminders. Fortunately, it was easy. All I had to do was think of Ayan.

She was like a terrified deer when faced with emotional stress—always running away. She was so willing to confront everyone else, and yet, when it came to me, she preferred to hide. It was unbearably frustrating.

"Your Highness?" A timid voice questioned from behind my door, startling me in the process.

"Yes?" I answered, hurrying to see who the visitor was. When I opened the door, I was met by the face of a servant holding a paper.

"Your presence has been humbly requested," He murmured, handing me the note.

I was prepared to get worried, fearing the message was from Father. But the servant had said, "humbly requested" which meant the note was from someone of lower rank than me. In other words, I wouldn't have to meet with Father and attempt to coherently explain why Ayan wasn't pregnant and why I never knew where she was most of the time.

I accepted the note with a smile. "Who is the note from?"

"Sir Lorcan, Your Highness."

...

Sir Lorcan had paged me for a horse ride. He didn't suffer a dearth of audacity—that was certain.

I must have been an idiot for agreeing. But I was incredibly curious to hear what he had to say. After all, this man, someone who had been one of my closest friends for years, had tried to advance on my wife. Everyone knew he was a flirtatious fellow, but there had to be boundaries.

After saddling a horse, I clopped to stalls where the nobleman was waiting. He seemed relieved that I had come. "Your Highness, I'm so glad you could make it."

I snorted. "What do you want Lorcan?"

As we navigated our horses to the winding trails of the palace, he spoke with a nervousness I rarely heard from him, "I wanted to apologize, Your Highness."

"For?" I asked snarkily. This was bound to be amusing. Lorcan rarely apologized. And when he did, it was always half-heartedly. Or something he said as an afterthought.

He gazed at me with irritation flaring in his eyes, but he composed himself well. "For what I've done."

"You've done a lot of things."