Chapter 26 #2
“Not anymore, Cass.” He ran his thumb over the medallion at his throat with a wry grin then looked to Kyra. “I command you to transport us to the city of Osaria with all of our camels and my gold.”
“And Cassius?” she asked and Drake took his time making a show of deliberating that while I gave him a flat look.
“Yeah, I guess him too,” Drake said, shooting Kyra a grin that made her blush.
“Do you agree?” she asked me and I nodded, though my muscles automatically tensed in preparation of the oncoming magic. I didn’t know what to expect, and I didn’t like to think on it too much as I waited for her to act, my hand going to the hilt of my sword as my instincts prickled.
She cocked her head to one side and suddenly there was a ripping sound that filled my entire head.
There was a rush of movement in my periphery then I gasped as the Lyrian seemed to speed past us like I was watching it from the inside of a speeding train.
My mind whirled as I stared at the landscape hurtling by while we all sat stationary on our camels and they honked in confusion.
“Holy shit,” Drake whooped while I gripped my saddle, feeling as though I might be unseated somehow by all the movement, yet it clearly wasn’t affecting us at all.
The world stopped rushing by just as suddenly as it had begun, and I found myself looking up at the white wall of the city from within a group of palm trees which lined the southern road, my lips parting and shock stealing all words from me.
“Fuck yes,” Drake breathed, staring at Kyra in awe while I looked around us, making certain we hadn’t been seen.
“But hang on, I need to look like a count, Kyra.” He gestured to his sandy clothes and wind-beaten hair.
“I like the sound of Count Drake...Count Drake Nazari,” he said dreamily.
“And make him look like a guard. And not one that will be recognised at the palace.”
He nodded to me and I agreed before Kyra weaved her magic again, the tingle of it becoming strangely familiar already. I certainly wasn’t afraid of it as I had been initially, but the immensity of her power in the wrong hands was my new fear.
My bloodied tunic was replaced with fine, navy robes with a trim of gold around the lapels.
The Forken scimitar was strapped around it, and Kyra altered the tanned red sheath to match the colour of my robes.
Another curved dagger appeared at my waist tethered there by a deep crimson sash.
A short beard grew on my chin and I frowned, reaching up to feel it.
I’d never been allowed to grow any sort of facial hair as a guard, and it felt kind of good, the roughness against my fingers entirely new to me.
Drake was given robes of jade green and beige, and his hair smoothed out, the sand falling from it and floating away on the breeze. The stubble on his jaw became neater and as he lifted a hand to touch it, he eyed his palm in confusion.
“My hands are as soft as a swan’s arse,” he said, frowning deeply like he didn’t like that.
I barked a laugh. “Counts don't have calluses.”
Drake scowled but his irritation was forgotten as he met my eye. “You don’t look any different. That stubble isn’t enough.”
“We can still see him as he is,” Kyra said. “But he will look like a different man to the rest of the world.” Her gaze travelled over me. “I might forget what you look like otherwise. Faces are easy to forget...then I’d never be able to make you you again.”
I was relieved at that, not wanting to lose who I was even if it might just solve all of my problems considering the bounty that was no doubt on my head. But I didn’t want to be someone else, I simply wanted to redeem the man I’d been.
Drake kicked his camel into a trot as we started along the brick road to the city and I kept pace with Kyra, sensing a sadness falling over her.
“Are you alright, magic girl?” I asked in a low voice.
She nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again. She kicked her camel to put some distance between us and I suspected she didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering her. What did a creature like her have to worry about?
Perhaps I shouldn’t have cared to ask, but if her mood took a dive then we could pay for it dearly with that power she possessed.
We slowed as we reached the line of men and women who were waiting to enter the city gates, the gleaming white walls of Osaria stretching out endlessly in both directions as I caught a glimpse of the golden palace roof far off in the distance where it sat up on its hill above all else.
I opened my mouth to remind Drake that he didn’t have to wait in line with the lower Fae, but he had already directed his steed past them, his cocky swagger firmly in place as he took to his new position like an arrogant duck to sparkling water.
Eyes turned towards us from every direction, and I caught more than few murmurs of interest from women as Drake peacocked the whole damn way into the city, a cocky grin lifting the corner of his lips which said he was enjoying the attention too damn much.
He tossed a wink at a couple of whores who called out to him from the back of a caravan headed out of the city and my jaw gritted in irritation. That man’s libido would be the fucking death of this plan if he couldn’t stop himself from flirting with every woman he laid his eyes on.
“Chin high. A man in your position wouldn’t entertain the idea of mixing with lower Fae, let alone flirting with whores in public,” I muttered to Drake and he obeyed, gazing down his nose at the civilians as it if was as easy as breathing.
“Where to? I normally take the backstreets when I head into the inner rings,” he said.
“Next left,” I directed as he took the lead. I had something I needed to do before we headed to the palace and I wasn't going to debate it with Drake. It was happening whether he approved or not.
I kicked the camel faster to overtake him, leading him down another few streets as we moved into the fourth ring; the first upper Fae section of the city.
We finally arrived at our destination and I dropped from the camel, tying it off on a tree outside a large white house with a small garden at the front. My heart warmed at the familiarity of this place and the thought of who lay inside.
“Where are we?” Drake asked.
Kyra jumped down from her camel, landing with the grace of a dancer and Drake reluctantly descended as well.
“This is my family's home,” I told Drake. “I can't risk Egos finding them. I figured you could ask Kyra to protect them. And if you say no, I’ll gut you.”
Drake chewed on the inside of his cheek and I prepared myself for an argument which I was determined to win.
I may have listened to his reasoning for only ever looking out for himself and I may even have been able to understand it in part, but I would not allow his selfish attitude to put my family at risk.
But before I had to say so much as a word in defence of what I required from him, he nodded once.
“Fine,” he agreed easily.
My brows raised at how little he fought this, wondering why before realising it didn’t even matter.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
I led the way inside and wondered how my mother was going to react. She must have heard I'd escaped from prison by now, and I'd no doubt given her several anxious nights of unrest since.
“Ma-mar?” I called and Drake sniggered. I shot him a glare, moving along the expansive white hallway.
Peach tea called to me from the kitchen, the scent so familiar it sent a wave of longing through me.
“Ma-mar?” I called again as I stepped into the room.
I spotted her at the table, her eyes puffy, her fingers knotted around a handkerchief.
Her usually perfect make-up wasn't present and four of my seven sisters were crowded around her.
Marla, Lyla, Fatima and Imani. Ma-mar looked up and fear crossed her features; her eyes were as dark as mine, but everything else about me was my father's and a fierce protectiveness crashed against my heart as I gazed at them all.
“Who are you?” she gasped, springing to her feet.
“Shit, remove the disguise,” Drake hissed at Kyra and I nodded my agreement.
I felt a strange tug in my chest before my mother's face shifted into shock. “Cassius?” she whispered, her cheeks draining of colour as the others stared at me like I was a ghost stepping into the household.
“Y-You’re dead,” Lyla breathed.
“I’m not,” I said, stepping closer. “I can explain.”
“How is this possible?” Ma-mar seemed frozen, clutching the table like it was the only thing stopping her from collapsing.
“Cassius!” Marla cried, the first to break from the group as she flung herself at me. I caught her, crushing her to my chest as she sobbed against me. Lyla and Imani followed next, but Fatima held back, her sharp features pinched with anger.
“You're a criminal,” she bit at me. “How could you bring such shame on our family? On Ma-mar?” She was one year my junior, the eldest of my sisters and the most imperious. If anyone was going to hold me accountable for the stress I’d clearly brought to my family’s door, it was her.
“Come now, Fatima, give your brother a hug. Let him explain,” Ma-mar pleaded as she gathered her wits, rising from her seat and pushing Fatima towards me.
My sister shook her head, folding her arms as she glared at me.
“I never meant for it to be this way, Fatima,” I said with a sigh as Ma-mar stepped past her and pushed my sisters away too so that she could get nearer to me. She cupped my cheeks, tears spilling from her eyes as she gazed at me like she expected me to vanish at any second.
I pressed my hand to one of hers as guilt swam in my chest for all the pain she’d clearly been through because of me. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, words failing her as she fell against me, hugging me tight and releasing a few sobs. My mother was a fiercely strong woman and I couldn’t remember her breaking down like this since Father had died.