Cyril

Love had existed between the two of you at one point. Perhaps it still does. Cyril has no grasp of it anymore.

“Our marriage will be beneficial to me,” Cyril says neutrally, chin on his palm. His gaze is blank, almost disinterested. “I have no reason to annul it.”

He acts as though your friendship had never meant anything. Like it wasn’t his father that’d ruined the two of you. When you were both young, Cyril used to follow you around. He’d gather flowers from the garden for you, pull out your chair. He took being your betrothed seriously.

He’s nothing like that anymore. You’re still his, obviously. You’ve always belonged to him. But the Empire of Xera needs a king, not a foolish boy in love. His people need a firmer hand, someone who won’t squander the empire’s wealth like his father had. That’s why Cyril had to get rid of him. A fast acting poison, and then there was a new king.

His next step was getting rid of Casimir. That’d been laughably simple. His younger half-brother wasn’t bright, and banishing him was a quick affair. Hardly anyone cared for some half-baked prince born from a questionable bloodline. Casimir’s mother had been some woman from the streets their father thought was pretty. Cyril feels disgust bubble.

“Once we’re married your father’s debt will be forgiven.” He remembers you used to be excited to marry him.

That changed when his father killed yours. As much as Cyril hated Orsine, he didn’t disagree with him killing your father. He’d betrayed him, death must follow suit. Telling enemy kingdoms secrets was treason. Couldn’t you understand that? Punishments are necessary.

King Orsine was laid to rest four months ago anyway. He almost wants to tell you how he died, like that’d make you feel better.