36. Kiera
Chapter 36
Kiera
I t matters not which side prevails, neither conqueror nor the conquered return from a war unscathed. I read that somewhere in the books Ophelia had forced Regis and I to study during our initial training years. At the time, I didn’t know what it meant, but now as I stare at Maeryn and Ruen’s sleeping faces, I think I’m beginning to.
Maeryn wanted to be safe. She wanted to avoid the conflict, and though a part of me resented her a bit for the fact that she so easily shut her eyes and turned away, another part of me envied her for the choice as well. Envy and desire go hand in hand, and all I have ever wanted was the freedom to make my own choices.
After the initial flurry of activity that had brought us back from the Hunt and then delivered us to Makeda’s chambers rather than the assembly hall, the Darkhavens and I had been moved back to our own rooms. Because Maeryn’s room is still empty—not that I’d want to place her back there—we’d elected to put both of them in Ruen’s. The bed is big enough anyway, and with them together, there’s always someone available to watch over them day or night.
A low groan emits from Maeryn’s throat, causing me to sit up in the chair I’d dragged closer to the side of the bed. The one eye not covered by gauze and a wrap tied to the back of her head flutters open. Blinking away the bleariness from her good eye, she turns her head. She stops when her gaze lands on me and I lean forward, reaching for the hand resting on the top of the sheet she’s tucked under.
“Morning.” I keep my voice light even as I close my hand around her cold fingers. “How are you feeling?”
She blinks again and when she opens her mouth to respond, she begins hacking. I release her quickly and reach for the pitcher of water on the nightstand, tipping it into a glass there. Propping myself on the bed near her head, I help her lean up as I place the lip of the glass to her mouth and urge her to take a few sips. After she’s managed to drain a good quarter of the liquid, I set it down and let her take a deep breath.
“What happened?” she finally manages to get out.
“You were spelled by the Gods to take on the form of a rabbit and then set loose in a hunting ground for the second rite of the Spring Equinox,” I say as I slip off the bed and take my seat in the chair once more. I keep my voice quiet, eyes flicking over to where Ruen still rests and taking in the return of color in his face. Makeda had assured us that once he’d been given sufficient sleep after her potions had been administered that he would wake without any negative side effects from the poison from Soza and Maral’s arrow.
“I…” Maeryn’s eyes find the ceiling and stay there. “I thought it was a dream. A horrible … terrible dream.”
I can’t say that I blame her for thinking her situation a nightmare. “It wasn’t,” I assure her. “When we discovered you missing, I went searching for you, and … someone told me what had happened.” I hesitate to use Makeda’s name, unsure of whether or not Maeryn is involved beyond saving now. The chances are high that she’ll find out eventually, but to be safe, I keep the Goddess’ name to myself.
Maeryn doesn’t talk for a long time, the silence in the room growing thick with unease. I let it happen, comfortable in the quiet that expands and takes over the air despite the fact that it’s choking the life from my lungs. Once pain becomes the normal state of being, it no longer hurts as much. It no longer wields as much power over you.
After a while, Maeryn reaches up and touches the gauze covering her left eye. “I-I want to see,” she stutters.
It would be easy to lie to her, easy to tell her that she has yet to heal from her wounds—those that transferred over from her spelled body—but there’s no point. She will find out eventually. So, I lean forward and help her back into a sitting position and then, I untie the knot holding the gauze and wrapping from her skull.
The material sags forward, draping into her lap as Maeryn reaches up and cups a hand over the extra gauze that is secured to her eye. Leaving her, I stride across the room to the dresser, picking up the object there before returning to her side.
“Here,” I hold out the hand mirror, carved from wood and melded with a bronze filigree around the reflective surface.
She takes it from me with trembling fingers, and then, with a sharp intake of breath, she lets the gauze drop completely and lifts the mirror to her face. Tears well up in both of her eyes—the beautiful green one and the milky-colored one with a still healing red slash through her skin. They spill over her lashes and cascade down her cheeks.
“I-I…” Her hand and the mirror shake until she drops it. Instead of landing on her lap, it hits the edge of the mattress and goes tumbling to the floor with a crack as the delicate mirror breaks, forming a fissure straight down the middle of it.
Glancing at Ruen’s face, I mentally sigh in relief when he remains sleeping. Whatever tonic Makeda had given him before we’d moved him back here is working its Divinity—or magic. I bend down and pick up the mirror before setting it on the nightstand.
Maeryn continues to cry, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs despite the fact that her tears remain silent. I lean close and take her hands in mine. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her.
Her eyes snap to mine. Well, the one that can see does. The other, however, stares out from a film of white, unseeing. “You’re still alive,” I say, hardening my voice when her brows lower and her lips pinch together. “As long as that remains true, you will be okay.” I say the words because it needs to be true, not just for me but for her. She needs to believe them just as I do.
“It wasn’t just a dream.” It isn’t a question, but a statement.
Though she already knows it, has already heard from me and said as much before, this time, the words hold a note of finality in them. I shake my head. “No,” I say. “It wasn’t.”
Maeryn continues to cry for a long time after that, but when the tears are dried and she starts asking more questions, I give her the answers that I can. Omitting the fact that both Makeda, The Goddess of Knowledge, and Danai, the God Queen, helped us when we returned from the Hunt, I tell her about the ceremonies the Gods are using to drain and steal our powers. I tell her my suspicions that she had been chosen to be a victim of the Hunt because she’d refused to attend the Cleansing, but that the Darkhavens and I experienced memory loss and even some weakening of our powers afterward.
We talk for a long time, long enough that Theos comes to check on us—peering into the room and nodding when I catch his eyes and shake my head. Maeryn asks more questions, her concern for Niall and her relief practically a living, breathing thing when I tell her that he’s alright and that he’s being taken care of, though not by whom.
As the sun begins to set in the distance through the window, Maeryn huffs out a breath and swings her legs over the side of the bed. “What are you doing?” I ask, standing as I grab her arm when she hefts herself up to a standing position, wobbling slightly.
“No offense, Kiera,” she says, glancing back over her shoulder at the still-sleeping Ruen, “but I have no desire to sleep in the same bed as one of the Darkhavens now that I’m well enough to move.”
“You’re not well enough?—”
“I can stand,” she corrects me, though the point could be argued. “I can move. I want to go to a bedroom that is my own and I want … I want to be alone.”
Maeryn trades her grip on the nightstand and bed to my arm to keep herself upright. “You shouldn’t be alone for now,” I tell her. “And your room was emptied. There’s nothing in there.”
Her brows furrow. “Then take me to your room,” she insists, “but I am not staying here.”
An idea springs to mind. “Fine,” I say, my sudden agreeability making her stiffen at my side as she slides her one good eye my way. My lips twitch. “I’ll give you my room under one condition.”
That eye narrows.
“You let Niall stay with you,” I say.
Immediately, her body relaxes. “Niall?” Her tone is hopeful. “Do you think he would mind?”
I hold back my chuckle as I shake my head and lead her towards the door. “Believe me,” I murmur, keeping my voice low as I turn the handle and help her into the corridor, “I think he’ll find it a pleasure to sleep at your side.”
Even with the trauma she’s experienced, the damage to her face and sight, the pretty pink flush that covers her skin—creeping up her throat to her cheeks—makes me smile.
I guide Maeryn to my own bedchamber and urge her to get back into bed. Once she’s comfortable, I head to Theos’ room and ask him to send for Niall. No more than a half hour has passed when a knock sounds upon the door of my bedchamber and I open it to reveal Niall looking far more alive than before, his own skin flushed. Whatever Makeda had done for him certainly put more spirit into his step as he practically hurries past me when he spots Maeryn.
“Mistress!”
“Niall!” Maeryn’s eyes fill with tears once more as Niall goes to her side and the two share an embrace.
Reclining against the door frame, I watch as Niall quickly recalls himself and extracts himself from Maeryn’s hold, straightening his loose tunic at the collar.
“I-I apologize, that was, I mean—I-I suppose you called because you require something?”
I offer an answer before Maeryn can. “We absolutely do,” I tell him, capturing his attention as Niall turns his head towards me. “We need you to stay here with Maeryn and make sure she’s well. She cannot be left alone.”
Niall blinks, looking much like a naughty street urchin caught in the act of something nefarious. “Y-you want me to s-stay with her here?” he repeats.
My smile is brilliant as I offer him a nod and move away from the wall. “Yes, we do. Glad you understand. Thanks, Niall. We appreciate it.” I step outside the room, dragging the door shut behind me, and just before it’s completely closed, I ask for one more favor. “Oh, and you shouldn’t let her sleep alone, Niall,” I call out. “She could have nightmares.”
The door snicks shut, but I don’t shift away quite yet, waiting until I hear the soft murmuring of their voices on the other side.
“Never thought I’d catch you playing matchmaker.” Pivoting at the sound of Theos’ amused tone, I feel my shoulders droop.
“Someone should find something good out of this situation,” I say. “It’s not going to be us.”
“Hey—what?” Theos captures my arm before I can slide past him and return to Ruen’s bedchamber. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I don’t see us winning this war.” Lifting my gaze to his, I let him see the conviction in my eyes. “And even if—beyond all odds against us—we do, I don’t see any of us coming out unscathed.”
“There are no victors in war, only survivors.” Both Theos and I turn sharply at those words.
“Ruen!” I dive forward, ripping myself free from Theos’ grasp as I catch sight of the scarred Darkhaven leaning against the open doorway of his chamber. His chest is bare in deference to the wound in his shoulder, but the light pants Makeda and Danai had given him hang low on his hips, accentuating the deep lines that form a ‘v’ pointing to his groin.
Grabbing him around the waist, I throw all of my weight into pushing him back into the room. “You shouldn’t be up,” I snap, urging him backward.
“Ugh.” Ruen groans as his arm leaves the doorframe and the two of us nearly go down as he tries to take a step back. Theos is there in an instant, holding his brother up and between the two of us, we manage to help him back to the bed.
“How do you feel?” Theos asks as I hurry to drag the sheets and blankets up Ruen’s legs. With how distracting the dips and valleys of Ruen’s muscles are, I’d like to throw a tunic on him too, but then my eyes land on the blackened mark in his flesh.
“Like someone shot me with a poisoned arrow.” Ruen deadpans.
“Next time don’t just stand there,” Theos taunts.
Ruen grunts as he shifts around and then lifts his hand in a gesture I know all too well.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I snap, grabbing Ruen’s hand and lowering it back to the mattress. “Answer Theos’ question seriously. How are you feeling? Do you feel lightheaded? Are you in pain?”
“I think it’s safe to say he’s recovering well,” Theos says, waving a hand towards Ruen’s legs.
I look down and then immediately sit up. “Are you fucking serious?” I glare at Ruen as he snags Maeryn’s abandoned pillow and holds it over his hips as he repeats the hand motion from earlier with more fervor.
“I’m fucking tired is what I am,” Ruen grunts, lowering his arm as he leans against the headboard, “and I’m not doing this on purpose.” He nods down to his lap and I roll my eyes.
“Well, stop it.”
Two sets of eyes—one of sunset gold and one of midnight blue—land on me. “That’s not how men work, Dea ,” Theos says.
“I know how men work,” I bite back.
“You certainly know how I work, Little Thief.”
I turn as Kalix enters the room and closes the door behind him.
“Where have you been?” Theos demands.
Without turning his head, Kalix glances at Theos and arches a brow. “I was talking to our new allies.”
“They are not our allies,” I hiss. Silence meets that comment and I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “They’re not.”
“They saved Ruen’s life and removed the spell from Maeryn,” Theos says, his tone quiet. “What would you call that?”
I lock my jaw and refuse to respond. What else can I say?
Kalix moves forward and turns, reclining over the end of the bed beyond Ruen’s feet beneath the covers and propping himself up. “Whether you wish them to be our allies or not,” Kalix says, “they’ve been helpful in the last few days.”
“Did you send the note I wrote to Regis?” I ask, ignoring his comment.
He grins, lying back completely as he folds his hands behind his head. “I did,” he says. “I also did some sneaking of my own, little liar.”
My gaze sharpens on his—as do his brothers’. “ Kalix .” Ruen’s tone is a low growl. “What did you do?”
Kalix’s smile doesn’t falter. In fact, it grows. “I sent a warning,” is all he says.
“You can’t just send a warning to the Gods,” I say.
He shakes his head, the long raven-black locks of his hair slipping back and forth across the bedsheets. “I didn’t send the warning to them,” he assures me.
“Then who?—”
“Nubo and Zalika,” Theos guesses.
Kalix points to him and nods. “You’re not as dull as everyone says you are, Brother.”
Theos bares his teeth but otherwise doesn’t respond to Kalix’s taunt.
“What kind of warning did you send?” Ruen asks. “And does this warning have fangs?”
Kalix takes his pointed finger and places it over his lips. “Now, why would I reveal all of my secrets?” he asks. “Where would be the fun in that?”
I release my arms and raise my hands to my face, dragging them over my tired features. “They’re going to kill us,” I mutter.
“No,” Ruen says sharply and I drop my hands to meet his eyes. “If they wanted us dead, we would be.”
“We almost died today,” I point out. “You and Maeryn?—”
“Maeryn and I—yes,” he interrupts. “But not you. You aren’t fair game. Why else would Tryphone hold off on killing you even knowing who you are? He has suspicions.” Makeda had all but insinuated that fact, so I remain quiet as he continues. “But he also hasn’t pushed the issue of your blood ceremony since we’ve gotten here, has he?”
My lips part and I lean back. “No … he hasn’t.” I’d almost forgotten about that. The ceremony the God Council had performed in Riviere had resulted in no definitive evidence of my God parent, a fact I now know was because of Caedmon and likely Danai and Makeda’s influences.
“Gods are nothing if not thorough. If Tryphone wants to be sure of who you are, then he’ll still perform the ceremony,” Ruen finishes.
“We’re almost to their third rite though,” I say with a shake of my head. “Tryphone has been absent for a lot of our time here. I didn’t see him at the Hunt or in the assembly halls. He hasn’t sent word or had anything delivered to me reminding me that he and the God Council will call upon me to determine who my God parent is.” Even though we already know.
“The last time we saw him was the Cleansing…” Theos' words trail off as he runs a hand through the top of his hair. “I think, Gods, I still can’t remember most of that night.”
“It’s part of the power that was stolen,” I surmise.
Ruen offers his agreement with a jerk of his chin before refocusing on Kalix. “Your warning wouldn’t have anything to do with Kiera’s blood ceremony, would it?”
“Perhaps I’ve forgotten about it,” Kalix suggests, not quite answering the question.
“ Kalix .” Ruen’s body grows taut as he glowers down at the man on his bed.
Kalix removes his hands from behind his head and throws them into the air as he sits up. “You don’t need to concern yourself with my warning, Brother,” he replies. “What you need to do is heal faster and then we need to figure out what to do about their Feast.”
“Feast?” I frown. “What feast?”
“The third ceremony,” Theos answers quietly. “Makeda and Danai informed us that it would happen tomorrow eve.”
“Tomorrow?” I shake my head. “Isn’t that supposed to happen just before the Spring Equinox? It hasn’t been two weeks…” As my words drift off, I think back, counting the days. How many had we lost between the ceremonies? Had the Hunt been longer than a day? No doubt the Void could warp time to suit the user’s purposes. I shudder at the memory of that place, dragging my hands up my arms as a chill crawls up my spine.
“Yes,” Kalix confirms. “The Feast will be held tomorrow and all will be expected to attend.”
My insides clench and my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach at his words. A day. We have a day. “A day isn’t nearly long enough to come up with a plan,” I murmur.
The Gods—Tryphone, specifically—has been playing this game of his for far longer. He’s thought of every detail, used those he found necessary, and disposed of them as he could. Reaching up, I drag the pad of my thumb back and forth across my lower lip, thinking.
“What…” I hesitate as the words catch in my throat, but now that the thought has given itself a voice, there is no stopping it. I sense their eyes on me even though I can’t focus on them, can only stare at the bed’s footboard and the swirls carved into the wooden frame. “What if I were to approach Tryphone and tell him the truth?”
When there’s no immediate eruption of curses and angry noises, I look up and find all three Darkhaven brothers staring back at me, waiting.
“Tryphone can’t know what we know,” I say, lowering my arms back to my side as my voice rises in strength. “Not unless Danai, Makeda, or Caedmon has betrayed us.”
“And if they have betrayed us, then we’d be dead,” Theos agrees with a nod.
“What would approaching him do?” Ruen asks, his face pinched tight, his hand clamped into the pillow until his knuckles are bone white.
“Makeda told me something,” I admit, turning away from them again as I return my eyes to the bed’s footboard. “She said that Ariadne was one of the only ones who could face Tryphone and challenge him. All others that argued against him over the centuries disappeared, but not her.”
“As his daughter,” Ruen says, “it would make sense that she’d have more protection from his anger.”
Not enough, considering that she’s rotting away in a secret prison beneath the great brimstone mountain of Ortus Island.
“It’s clear that the relationship between Danai and Tryphone is strained,” I say. “Probably because of my mother.” I swallow, tasting ash on my tongue. “What if … I offered to take her place?”
“Take her place?” Theos moves towards me and grips my arm, turning me to face him. “What are you suggesting, Dea ?” Twin golden brows draw together and his lips curl downward as tension fills his expression.
“It wouldn’t be real,” I assure him, reaching up and cupping his hand on my arm. “But if he thought he could gain the same love from me that he could from his daughter…”
“Caedmon plans to use you to kill him,” Ruen says. “That wouldn’t?—”
“Surely, he doesn’t know that though,” I insist, pulling from Theos to go to the end of the bed. My fingers latch on to the ornate wood and curl around the top as I lean into the frame. “He doesn’t know me—who I am. What I’d be willing to do or what I wouldn’t be. If we assume that Tryphone isn’t as knowledgeable about my past—about the secrets Makeda, Danai, Caedmon, and even my mother kept from him—then it explains why he hasn’t tried to kill me yet. It explains why he’s brought us here to drain all of the Mortal Gods of their magic.”
“Divinity,” Theos corrects almost absently.
I wave my hand at him. “No, it’s magic,” I reiterate. “The Gods aren’t Gods—they’re Atlanteans. A subspecies of Fae according to Makeda. What we have isn’t Divine Right. It’s magic.”
Ruen scrubs a hand down his face and tosses the pillow to the side. “Kiera, this is madness. You want us to let you go to the God King and admit that you know you’re his granddaughter?” He scowls at me, a muscle in his jaw jumping beneath the surface. “No. Never. He’ll kill you on the spot.”
“Then what do you suggest?” I snap, gesturing around the room. “Because we’re out of time, Ruen. We have limited options and a lot of lives to either save or let die.”
Ruen slams his fist into the mattress. “You’re a Gods damned assassin!” he yells. “Letting those fuckers die should be no issue for you.”
My chest squeezes and I release the bed’s footboard, taking a careful step back.
“Shit.” Theos reaches for me even as Kalix gets off the bed.
“I didn’t mean that,” Ruen says, his lips parted as if he, too, is shocked by the callousness of his own words.
“Kiera.” I dodge Theos’ grasp and take another step back.
“If that’s what you think of me,” I say quietly, my voice dropping into nearly a whisper as I try not to scream … or cry. “If you think my time as an assassin dulled my senses to death and that I am so far gone that I’d be willing to sacrifice hundreds if not thousands to save my own skin…” I settle my eyes on Ruen’s, not caring that his newly replenished color has drained away once more. “Then Tryphone isn’t the only one who doesn’t know who the fuck I am.”
Without waiting for Ruen’s response, I turn and leave the room, striding past all of the doors to our bedchambers until I’m far away from the residential hall. I keep walking until I taste salt on my tongue and feel an icy wind stinging my cheeks.
Only when I stop on a parapet between two buildings with the moon hanging fat and heavy above me, half shielded by clouds, do I realize that I’m crying.