“I wish our situation was different,” Lathael said quietly. “I wish I was different. I wish—“

—you were different.

He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence aloud. Did he mean what he’d thought? Perhaps. If you weren’t a half-elf he wouldn’t have to hide you. But if people found out his lover had human blood, he’d lose backing in his fight for the throne. His half-sister, Ailea, was a half-elf; Lathael had managed to gain so much favor because he wasn’t. The people didn’t want some diluted elf as their ruler, they wanted an actual elf. They wanted him.

Alfwen—his butler and most trusted confidant—had urged him to end this with you. As much as Lathael listened to him, he would never leave you behind. You’d spent years at his side. When he was told he was actually the bastard son of King Aiwin, born before Aiwin married a human, and that his mother and grandfather were killed under Aiwin’s orders, you were there. When he carved his path, decided he wanted revenge for their deaths and that he’d do so by becoming king, you were there. When he left the two people who had raised him, you were there. Always.

You were his. If he had nothing, he had you, even in secret.

“Once I’m king our lives will change for the better.” He was sure of it. There were commoners, and nobles, that backed up his claim. He’d already announced himself as Aiwin’s bastard during his daughter’s coming of age ceremony. “Pretend for a while longer.”

Lathael asked a lot of you. In public, he pretended you were nobody to him. The reality was nobody knew him as you did. He doubted anyone ever would. Alfwen told him it’d be best to marry someone purely elf, but Lathael didn’t agree. Once he was king, he’d do whatever he pleased. He could marry you then. Who would stop him?

In the dead of night, like some sick secret, Lathael kissed your knuckles. “Please,” he whispered. He didn’t want to sound desperate, but the word came out as a soft plea. He’d lost everyone else from his life before, he couldn’t lose you, too.