Mated To Rival Kings

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Raven's POV

Darian and Valen disappeared shortly after the confrontation in the hall, leaving me alone with our "guest". Celeste didn’t miss a beat. After directing the servants to take her luggage to her guest room, she turned to me with a bright smile—the kind that put my guard up instantly.

"I was hoping we could have tea together, Raven," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "Just to discuss a few things, woman to woman."

"That’s alright," I replied, keeping my voice neutral.

I followed her to a sunlit corner of the dining room. I couldn't help but wonder what her game was. Did she really think Darian would just toss aside a fated mate? That was a life no one in our world would choose. Fated bonds weren't just about romance, they were about the soul. But looking at the confident tilt of her chin, Celeste clearly thought she was the exception to the rule.

The kitchen staff brought out a silver kettle and two delicate porcelain cups. Celeste took charge, pouring the tea with a grace that felt almost performed. She brought her cup to her nose, inhaling the steam.

"I love this flavor," she hummed, smiling. "It’s my favorite back in the South. I wasn't expecting to see it here in the neutral territories."

"The housekeeper tries to source things from both kingdoms to make everyone feel comfortable," I said, taking a small sip. It was good, but the atmosphere made it taste a bit bitter.

Celeste took a few more sips, letting the silence stretch between us. Then, out of nowhere, she spoke. "Darian has always been such a proper child. He does what he ought to do, when he ought to do it. He’s responsible, hardworking, and deeply committed to his crown."

I wanted to ask, And? But I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of sounding rude or impatient.

"After his father died," Celeste continued, her eyes distant, "years passed without him finding his mate. I could see the light leave his eyes gradually. The pressure of the throne is immense, Raven. I am glad he found his mate, truly... but I fear this situation is actually detrimental to him."

I set my cup down with a soft clink. "How so?"

"He is committed to his people, yet he has left them for weeks now. He’s wasting time here on a situation that has no clear way out," she said, leaning in. "How do you suppose both Kings will rule their kingdoms while trying to be with you? Isn't it a bit selfish of you to hold onto two men when their people need them?"

The audacity of her words made my blood simmer. I didn't hide the sneer that touched my lips. "Really? Thank you for being so concerned about Darian, but he isn't a child. He knows what he wants and he knows his responsibilities. And for the record, I’m not 'holding onto' anyone. The Moon Goddess made this choice. Maybe you should go find a way to question her decisions instead of mine."

Celeste’s pale face flushed a deep, indignant red. She sputtered for a moment, looking at me like I was the one being unreasonable. "So you don't think you're holding him back?"

I paused. I couldn't lie; the thought had crossed my mind more than once. I knew the South was waiting for him. But I wasn't going to let her use my guilt against me.

"I think about it sometimes," I admitted, my voice hardening. "But Darian won't leave even if I ask him to. I want him here, and he wants to be here. We’re figuring it out."

"No," Celeste said sharply. "He would have to leave if you told the Elders that you only wanted King Valen. Darian might not understand the sacrifice now, but he would thank you for it later. He belongs in the Southern Palace, not lurking in a neutral mansion."

I marveled at her twisted sense of care. It was so transparent. "What do you think Darian would say if he heard you talking like this?"

"He knows I only want what’s best for him."

"No, you don't," I countered. I sat up straighter, a small smirk playing on my lips. "You just want him back in the South so you can sink your claws into him. But as long as he wants to stay with me, I’m keeping him by my side. I’m warning you, Celeste, don't get any more ideas about my mate. He’s mine. I’m not letting him go."

I stared at her until she looked away. She didn't look defeated, though. She just smiled, as if this were a minor setback in a much larger game. I felt a headache forming. Darian had a lot to answer for, bringing this woman into our lives, even for three days.

"That’s alright," Celeste said, standing up. The clicking of her heels against the floor sounded like a countdown. "This was a nice chat, Raven. We’ll talk again."

I watched her walk away before deciding I needed to see Darian. I traced his rain and earth scent up to his room. It was the first time I’d ever approached his room. I knocked softly.

"Enter," his voice called out.

I pushed the door open and paused, blushing slightly. The room was just as spacious as mine but decorated in deep blues and heavy mahogany. The bed was massive, large enough for four people and the whole place smelled like him. It was overwhelming in the best way.

Darian was by his wardrobe, looking through some tunics. He turned and smiled when he saw me. "What do you need, Raven?"

"I just came to see you. I finished my tea with Celeste."

He stopped what he was doing, his expression turning serious. "She didn't upset you, did she?"

I shook my head. "She tried, but I handled it. She’s... a lot."

"I know," Darian sighed. "She’s always been a troublesome girl, but I don't have the heart to throw her out immediately. Her family has been loyal to mine for generations."

I decided to be understanding. She was a piece of his childhood, and Darian was a man of honor. It didn't mean he wanted her, it just meant he was kind. "That’s fine. I just want it to be known that I won't take mistreatment from her."

"Of course," Darian said, walking over to me. "Do as you will. If she crosses a line you can't handle, let me know and I’ll punish her severely. She’s spoiled and likes to throw tantrums when she doesn't get her way. I'm only doing this out of respect for my mother and the memory of her father."

"I understand," I said. He looked at me then, his eyes roaming over my peach dress with a look of pure appreciation. I felt a flutter in my stomach and hid a smile. "I’ll let you get back to your things. I’m going to check on Valen, then help in the kitchens."

"Sure, dear," he said softly.

I left his room and headed for the study. I found Valen seated at the large mahogany desk, surrounded by stacks of parchment. He looked incredibly regal when he was focused, his brow knit in concentration.

He looked up and his face instantly transformed into a grin. There was a part of Valen that was almost childlike when he let his guard down with me, and it was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen.

"What are you doing?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Writing letters," he said, gesturing to the papers. "Checking on the North. I’ve written to Maddox about that incident at the ball. I expect a response soon."

"Are you curious about your half-brother?"

Valen hummed, tapping a quill against his chin. "Not exactly. I’m not bitter toward him, either. I blame my father for not having the sense to handle both sides of his family. But," his eyes flashed with a familiar predatory light, "if I find out the kid is up to no good, I’ll teach him a lesson he’ll never forget."

"Chill," I laughed. "He’s just a kid."

"We'll see. So, why have you come to find me? Missed me already?"

"I just finished talking with Celeste," I told him. "And Darian."

Valen’s smile vanished. "What did that woman say? I don't trust her one bit. She looks like she’s planning to set the building on fire."

"I feel the same way," I admitted. "But we need to be patient with Darian. He feels he owes her family a debt."

Valen huffed, clearly not liking the answer, but he didn't argue. "Fine. I’ll be patient. I just need to finish this batch of reports and then I’m all yours. Okay?"

I nodded and headed down to the kitchens. The staff was happy to see me, though they tried to shoo me away from any real work. They treated me like a fragile porcelain doll. Eventually, I wore them down and they gave me a bowl of onions to chop for the stew.

Ten minutes later, I was standing over the cutting board, sobbing my eyes out from the onion fumes. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, wondering why I’d volunteered for this particular burden.