Xior pretended to busy himself with papers, pouring over them as though he was reading anything. He didn't wish to see anyone. All they did was congratulate him on his son's birth, and he'd force a smile.

In truth, Xior had not yet seen his son. He had already decided seeing the babe would make him more ill. A constant reminder of what he had to do, of what he had no choice in. The child was not yours; it couldn't be. Xior had married a noblewoman—the daughter of a duke—less than a year ago because it was expected of him. There was nothing wrong with his wife, Evanthe, save for the fact she was not you.

A king, however, couldn't wed a knight. Xior needed heirs, needed to marry someone from a strong family. Evanthe was his answer and you were his salvation. You understood he had to, he was sure. Even when those around him didn't understand his reasonings, you did. Evanthe was aware of his affair with you, but she never protested. As long as the Kingdom of Odara was at peace, she paid no mind to Xior's affairs. He was almost certain she had a lover she kept hidden as well, but he hadn't cared enough to ask.

The door to his study creaked open. For a moment he was annoyed until he realized it was you. His gaze immediately softened. "Have you seen him?" Xior asked with a muted smile. It felt more like a grimace. "The boy. My son." The word hurt to say aloud.

His name was Lonan, named after Evanthe's brother who'd been killed in the Elf-Human War. Xior wouldn't have cared if she named the boy Rock. He had left her alone the entire pregnancy, given her the best healers he could find. He hated being reminded of their wedding night.

Sometimes he wished he hadn't married his older sibling off to the Elven king of Vesta, Aiwin, if only to seek some sort of comfort from a familiar face. All he had left was you, his most trusted knight and lover. But even this would come to an end one day. You were both keenly aware of how sick he was slowly becoming.

"I'm told he's my spitting image," he mused without laughter.