Chapter 32 #4
I could feel the tingle of my Affinity racing through my blood like the memory of old magic lost to our kind which lit a fire in my soul at the thrill of the fight and I could see that same fire blazing in his eyes too.
There was something so fucking energising about leaning into my Affinities like this, as if the powers the old gods had bestowed on our kind long ago were almost awakened by the use of them.
We continued on until we'd both beaten each other in several rounds, and we were panting from the exertion of our brawls.
He was a force to be reckoned with. But even if he somehow beat Kalaviv, Kahn would still beat him on size alone.
I had no doubts about that. But by the time that happened, I planned on having the evidence in place to take down his mother and him along with it.
You’re not winning this pageant, thief.
Drake dropped onto a chair, panting as I poured us all a glass of chilled water left by the servants. He gulped it down and Kyra copied him like they were in a race, guzzling every last drop while watching him out the corner of her eye.
It was strange the way she seemed drawn to him like that, no doubt a side effect of his position as her master and yet it seemed like it was more than that too.
Like she was…grateful? Perhaps even indebted to him in some way.
She looked at him as though he had single-handedly saved her life, and she had pledged her soul to him in payment for the debt.
I personally saw plenty to be desired within the man she seemed to be unable to find fault in, but then again, I wasn’t a magical entity bound to his will, so I had to assume her opinion was somewhat tainted by that.
I observed his tattoos curiously and finally asked the question that had been burning on the back of my tongue ever since the first time I’d seen them.
“How did a thief from the slums – albeit a damn good thief – afford tattoos as extensive and perfectly detailed as yours? There must be a small fortune of ink etched into your skin and I struggle to understand how you afforded it at all, let alone how you managed to convince an artist as gifted as the one who gave them to you to work countless hours decorating your flesh.”
The mood in the room plummeted as fast as if I’d doused the entire place in ice cold water and Drake’s inked hands fisted against his thighs as his entire posture stiffened.
“The dark never fades,” Kyra breathed, shifting closer to Drake with pain in her eyes as if she already knew something I didn’t, though she still held herself back from touching him.
For a moment I thought he was going to refuse to speak, but when he did, his voice broke the air like the crack of a whip.
“I neither paid for them nor wanted them,” Drake gritted out, all amusement gone from his voice. “If I could cut them from my skin alongside the memory of how I came to have them then I would do it in a heartbeat.”
“Someone did that to you?” I asked in surprise, the beauty of the designs which covered his body taking on a much darker aura as I ran my gaze over them again.
The hours and hours of work which must have gone into placing them on his skin suddenly made my gut turn over instead of making my mind spin with the number of visits he must have had with the artist who created them. “How could they-”
“I neither wish to discuss it or remember it,” Drake bit out.
“But to sate your curiosity and dissuade any further discussion of this in the future, I’ll tell you this much.
I was held against my will for so long that I lost count of the days and by the time I escaped, my flesh had been forever corrupted by the tainted ink you can see marking my body.
I joined The Forty not long after that.”
“You were just a boy?” I murmured in disgust, wondering what kind of monster would do such a thing to a child.
“I told you no one ever gave a fuck about me besides myself, Cassius,” he replied irritably as if he wanted me to pay more attention.
And I was starting to think he had a point because I hadn’t once imagined he’d survived anything like that.
Hunger and poverty? Yes. But this kind of abuse without a single person in the world who either knew or cared? That was a cruel fate indeed.
I looked at the man he presented to the world and saw what he wanted me to see, but there was more to him, darkness and horrors which haunted his past, layers of all kinds of memories which I doubted I would ever be able to fully comprehend because that kind of thing just didn’t exist in the world I knew and had grown up in.
Drake shoved to his feet and crossed the open space in the centre of our suite, moving to the long table there and pouring himself another glass of water from the pitcher.
I could tell he meant that as an end to this discussion, but I couldn’t help but press him for further answers.
I needed to know, to understand. I wasn’t even certain why it bothered me so much, but I knew the lack of knowing what had happened to him would steal sleep from me unless I gained some level of comprehension here.
What purpose did marking a child in that way serve?
“How did you escape?” I murmured, trying to figure out why someone would do such a thing to a child while holding my tongue on most of the questions I wanted to ask.
Drake downed his water without a word, but Kyra pushed to her feet, padding across the tiles towards him with her skin damn near glowing as she stared at him, looking like the mystical creature she was.
Her lips parted in awe, and she seemed to see beyond the man standing before her to the truth of who he was in his soul, and I swear the air crackled with the power of all she was.
“Warrior born,” she breathed, standing before him and looking up into his dark eyes as he towered over her, their gazes locking, something passing between them which was tangible and made my body tense with unease. “Through blood and bone and death.”
Drake swallowed thickly, seeming caught in those haunting memories as he set his glass down on the table.
“Yeah,” he agreed in a low voice. “It was something like that.”
I sensed that he was done speaking about this and let the subject drop as Kyra continued to stare at him like he was the most fascinating thing she’d ever laid her eyes on.
Drake hesitated there, caught in her gaze for several long seconds before he broke the connection and looked down at the floor, clearly caught up thinking about things he’d rather forget.
I had so many more questions which wanted to burn a path right up and out of my throat, but I found myself unable to voice them, the ghosts which clearly haunted him in those memories warning me away.
I knew he wouldn’t speak any further on the subject and despite my curiosity, I respected that his secrets were his own to keep.
I cleared my throat, considering heading out to the bathhouse and giving him some space. “I might take a trip to the-”
“Where else did you go today?” Drake asked, interrupting me as his gaze snapped up to meet mine and I frowned at the accusation in his tone.
“I went looking for Magdor. Are you keeping tabs on me?” I growled.
“I like to be aware of everything going on around me, Cassius. Don't forget that.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, shrugging as I turned away from him.
“Did you find anything?” he asked, and I sealed my lips. I still didn't trust him. And I certainly wasn't going to tell him exactly what I'd done today. I wasn't proud of what I'd seen despite the dark thrill that was quietly burning in my chest because of it.
“No,” I said with a shrug.
I glanced at him, and his expression told me he didn't buy it, but I was saved from his questions as a knock sounded at the door.
I glanced at Kyra, making sure she appeared normal before calling out to tell the person outside to enter and a servant strolled in pushing a large dining cart.
Drake grinned, the shadows dropping from his gaze as if they’d never been there, and I was sure I’d never known a man who could don a mask as quickly and convincingly as he could.
Among the guards we were trained to be stoic and supress all emotions, but Drake went beyond that, seeming to force his emotions to switch like the flip of a coin.
Perhaps he was just a talented actor, but he was damn convincing either way.
He strode forward and snatched a hunk of bread into his hand, lifting it to his lips before thinking better of biting into it like a savage in front of the royal servant.
The man eyed Drake curiously and the thief suddenly inspected the bread. “I want oat milk too.” He whacked the bread over the servant's head, and I glared at Drake.
“Forgive me, sir, I'll have some brought immediately.” The servant backed out of the room, bowing low and brushing crumbs from his hair as he went.
How the hell was this man supposed to pass as noble when he continually acted like an uncouth commoner?
Drake tore off a lump of bread and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously as crumbs flew everywhere, either trying to goad me or showing me just how spectacularly he was going to fail at passing for a noble.
“He looks like a hungry dog,” Kyra said brightly.
“Yes,” I agreed as Drake stuffed more bread into his mouth in defiance. “And this mutt has a lot to learn.”