Chapter Forty-Six
T he next morning, I am on my way to meet Draven for training—our final day together before the final test tomorrow—when Kiran stops me in the corridor.
“Good morning, Lyra,” he coos. He wears a loose black sweater tucked neatly into his trousers, his ruby hair half-tied back, with the other half brushing his shoulders.
“Kiran,” I reply, my tone warm—something that seems to come natural in his presence. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He clasps his hands behind his back. “Oh, nothing really. I just wanted to see how your training sessions with Draven were going. Any luck with your magic?”
I shake my head. “Not really,” I mumble, feeling a frustrating wave of defeat at the words. “It’s like it just doesn’t want to come out.”
“Hm,” he hums. “Well, if there is anyone who can help you figure out why that is, it’s Draven.” He pauses, his sapphire eyes watching me with crinkles framing them. “Mind if I join you on your morning stroll to meet him?”
My brows twitch slightly, but still I shrug. “Be my guest.”
We walk together, the silence only lasting perhaps thirty seconds before Kiran’s smooth voice fills the air again. “I heard you learned of Draven’s…heritage.”
I snort a laugh. “I did. And if someone told me during the summer solstice that I would be receiving training from the Dalmar Heir and walking to said training with the Sulien Heir come the autumnal equinox, I would have laughed in their faces and told them to get off the pipe.”
Kiran chuckles, nodding with understanding. “Life is an unpredictable game always throwing twists at us. Typically, when we least expect it.”
“You can say that again,” I mutter.
Kiran’s signature smile widens. “Did he tell you that he and I grew up together?”
I pause my steps, turning to face Kiran with a wrinkle in my brow. “You and Draven? Is that normal for Great House heirs?”
He lifts a shoulder lazily. “It’s normal for heirs to be socialized with each other. We have frequent encounters given the nature of our titles. However, the circumstances for Draven, Finlay, and me were a bit…peculiar.”
My brows scrunch even more. “Wait, Finlay ? He was raised with you guys as well?”
We resume walking, and Kiran nods, his smile punctuated by a fondness. “Oh, yes,” he confirms. “We were all raised just outside of Talderine, living in the Dalmar family’s castle, Tylderon. Believe it or not, those two are the closest thing I have to brothers.”
Suddenly it all makes sense. Why Kiran and Draven always speak to each other so intimately. Why Kiran and Finlay seemed outlined by a deep-rooted tension surpassing simple blood rivalry. Why Finlay was so stunned by Draven’s offer to train me.
They’ve known each other all their lives. Are brothers, according to Kiran.
“Are you an only child?”
“No,” Kiran answers through a laugh. “I have an older sister. And between you and me, I find she is far scarier and even more formidable than both Finlay and Draven combined.”
“That is a terrifying thought.” I smirk. “She sounds like my kind of woman.”
Kiran chuckles. “I think you two would get along quite well, actually.”
My lips tug up at the thought. “So if you and Finlay are practically brothers, why are you two always at each other’s throats?”
His eyes flick to me before down at his feet. “You noticed that, huh?”
I arch a brow. “It’s kind of hard not to.”
He sighs—long and deep—shaking his head. “It’s complicated,” he murmurs after a long moment. “But let’s just say he and I had a disagreement, and we’ve never fully resolved the remaining feelings from the decision.” His eyes haze with the fog of a distant memory.
I soften my voice. “If you don’t mind me asking, how is it that all three of you ended up living together at Tylderon?”
“It started with Finlay,” he answers. “He and his father had a…falling out, I guess you could say, and Finlay was sent away from his home to live at Tylderon while finishing his education and training.” Kiran pauses, his brows scrunching together.
“Finlay…he wasn’t always like how he is now.
The events leading up to his removal from his home changed him—and not for the better.
Sadly, since the day he arrived at Tylderon, he’s been trying to win back his father’s favor.
” He glances at me. “And if you think Finlay is something to behold…”
I arch a brow.
Kiran huffs a dry laugh.
Still, I wonder what happened between Finlay and his father to cause such turmoil.
“I arrived about six months after him,” Kiran continues. “My father heard what House Fjolla was doing with their heir, and he decided House Sulien could benefit from a similar decision.”
“I should have guessed you three were trouble since birth,” I say, amused.
Kiran’s lips twitch. “I confess that I earned the decision to be sent away to Tylderon, but Finlay…his story is a bit more complicated.” He sighs. “But I digress. My purpose for telling you all of this has nothing to do with that.”
I glance at him, studying him for a moment. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful for what you’re sharing with me, because I do appreciate knowing, but what is your purpose for telling me, exactly?”
He lifts his chin, looking up at the golden sky.
“I am the oldest of the three, and as such, I can be a bit protective of them. Finlay is the sensitive one, always has been, but Draven?” Kiran huffs a quiet breath and drops his chin.
“Draven is more breakable than he will ever let on, and he has his heart to thank for that.”
I bite down on my lip. “He told me about his mother.”
Kiran stops walking. I turn back to face him and find his brows heavily furrowed. “He did?”
I nod.
“What did he say, exactly?”
“Not much,” I say, recounting the night on the balcony under the stars and the one laying in his arms in the greenhouse.
A fluttering feeling tumbles around in my stomach as I remember them.
“He just told me about how they would watch the stars together. About how remarkable she was.” My voice drops an octave.
“He also told me he doesn’t talk about her enough.
That…” I swallow against the knot suddenly rising in my throat.
“That she deserved to be remembered by someone.”
The rumors surrounding House Dalmar swirl in my mind, landing on the sharpest of them all.
His mother was murdered in front of his very eyes.
“Kiran?” My voice is a gentle brush of sound. “The rumors about House Dalmar…are they true?”
His lips thin, and he rubs them together into an even flatter line.
He exhales a deep breath. “Let’s just say there was the version of Draven that was supposed to exist, and the one that actually existed, and it was not in alignment with the version his father wanted.
Growing up, Draven was soft-hearted, incredibly sharp-witted, quiet, and caring—much like his mother was.
She…” Kiran stops, considering his words.
“She was able to act as a shield between Draven and his father, and when she passed, Draven lost not only a mother, but also his best friend and his shield, and that day…” Ghosts awaken on Kiran’s face, and his voice falls into a rough whisper.
“It was a very horrific day, to say the least.”
The dull ache for what was stolen from Draven threads into the seams of my heart. Because I understand. I understand far more than I wish I did. And if I could take that pain away from him, I would in an instant, combining it with my own and carrying it for the two of us.
I deserve to feel the pain; Draven does not.
Kiran sucks in a sharp breath, banishing the ghosts back into their shadowy recesses, resetting his features. “Though that is Draven’s story to tell, not mine.”
I nod with understanding.
Kiran regards me, a curve tugging at his lip. “I must say—I’m surprised he talked to you about her at all. I haven’t heard him speak of her in years.” A pause. “He must really care for you.”
I feel my cheeks warm, and my mouth flounders like a fish. Kiran smiles wider at the sight, his eyes crinkling as warmth returns to them.
We reach the path leading to the spot where I’m supposed to meet Draven. Kiran turns to face me the same moment I face him. “Be good to him,” he requests gently.
The words catch me off guard, leaving me unsure how to answer.
So, I just blink at Kiran instead, resulting in him shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.
“His life isn’t easy,” he continues, his voice soft yet earnest. “And he has a lot of weight on his shoulders—weight that I fear he will never share. He takes responsibility for everything and everyone he cares about. I need you to understand that—it’s important you know. ”
The words feel like a vague warning in some strange way. I tug at the end of one of my braids, my brows wrinkling with thought. “Why tell me all this?” I ask quietly.
Kiran studies me, ultimately smiling at whatever he sees. “Because you’re important to him, and thus important to me. And sometimes, we offer help to those we care about in the ways we can, even when they don’t ask for it.”
I open my mouth to say something, but before a word can roll from my tongue, Kiran lifts a hand and shakes his head. “Just go to him,” he commands gently. “He’s waiting for you, and I’d hate to be the reason he’s kept waiting any longer.”
A soft smile flits across my lips as I watch Kiran, observing him for a long moment .
I’d love to see the day when he and I are truly friends. People like Kiran are rare in this world, and if this conversation has made anything clear, it’s that his loyalty is unwavering. Plus, despite the never-ending smirks, he’s actually rather pleasant to be around.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
Kiran grins, unflinching and beautiful, before he shoves one hand in his pocket and turns around, walking off in the other direction without another word, lifting his other hand lazily over his shoulder as a parting goodbye.
I watch him a few seconds longer. Then, I turn on my heels and go to Draven.