47. Kye
47
Kye
K olibri sensed the gate before we did, the scent of people sending her ears flat and her tail swishing in a promise of violence I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of.
It was an odd thing, soaking in relief and dread in the same moment.
Passing into Calder smoothed a balm over my nerves. To walk the mountain road without casting my eyes over my shoulder every few minutes…had it been months since the last time I’d felt safe from a surprise attack? But as the stone and iron walls of Winterlight steadily rose out of the trees ahead, a familiar tremor slowly erupted under my skin. A need to fidget. To move.
I hid it as well as I usually did. Wrapped my fingers around the hilt of my sword as I walked. Flexed a fist behind my back as Maren slowed to watch a raven straddle the stone crenellations ahead. Tapped the toe of my boot in slow silence when we stopped. We may have left the threat of harm behind us, but I had more than enough fucking reservations about the sanctuary ahead.
It shouldn’t have surprised Maren that soldiers immediately recognized me as we approached the first mountain checkpoint, but I think it did. After weeks of posing as vagrants and hiding in forests, we were suddenly cast from one person to another in an uproariously festive welcome. The women of the town clucked over Maren’s state of dress while soldiers cheerily taunted me for the Kravan pirate sword that hung from my back. Word spread that we’d entered through the gates.
The entire encampment manifested for the sake of seeing the pair of us. Villagers came from all corners to offer fresh clothes, hot meals, and their own homes to stay in. A melting pot of townspeople, miners, and soldiers, it was easy enough to look at someone and see where they fit. The citizens of Winterlight were modest, their clothes brightly clean. A stark contrast to the men who mined, who wore dirt and granite in the cracks of their skin, all the way from their knuckles to the crow’s feet of their eyes.
The soldiers were tan from training under the sun, the strands of their hair bleached gold. They saluted as we passed them, their eyes flicking to Maren with curiosity.
Had I been alone, I might have checked in with my general and then dropped into a soldier's cot under a tented roof and slept for days, but I brought Maren to the village inn instead. Guards followed us to our door, making me fucking fidget all the more, knowing every move we made would be recorded. Reported. Used against me.
It made me want to miss Kriska, the black-toothed bastard.
Inside our room, I set our things down for Maren on the bed. Her eyes hovered on me as I loomed in the open doorway, midnight irises locking me where I stood.
“I’ll order you a bath, if you want,” I said, gesturing to the only women’s bathing room down the hall.
“Where are you going?”
I threw a quick look over my shoulder at the guards just outside our open door. “I have to report to General Senan. He’s likely already heard of our arrival.”
“And then you’ll be back?”
I nodded, glancing about the room. Worn carpet lay under our feet, the wooden walls and ceiling painted white, the wide balcony door propped open. “Will you be alright?” Under all this wood?
Maren slid off the edge of the bed. She prowled to me, closing the short distance between us. I wondered if it occurred to her—the way she drifted, all hips, chest, shoulders, swaying with fucking hypnotic leisure whenever she moved. She gave a soft inhale, fixing the collar of my shirt, sending tingles down my skin.
“I’ll be fine,” she murmured. The sound of her voice so near to my mouth made me want to say fuck-all to the entire Calderian army, slam this door closed, heave her over my shoulder, and twist us both deep into sheets and furs. Maren began to float away, and my hand grasped the back of her head before I could stop it, turning her mouth back to mine and sinking into it. Aalto above, her kiss burned in the most fucking decadent way. It continued after we separated, still ablaze on my lips as I said, “Be back soon,” my voice dissolved into husk and gravel.
And it continued burning as I closed the door, climbed onto one of the inn’s horses and rode through town to the encampment, heat dancing in and out of my pores, warming me even under the chill of Scorreo . It wasn’t until I spotted the royal crest on the carriage outside the general’s tent that the simmer finally evaporated, abandoning me to the icy breath of cold dread.
Fuck.
I didn’t waste my time hoping it was only Hadrian.
At least the queen wouldn’t be with him. Gathering my trepidation and disguising it with calm assurance, I stepped through the tent flap.
Six pairs of eyes swung my way. Hadrian, Aren, General Senan, Thaan, his creepy little fucking assistant, and the King. Had it only been the first two, they would have greeted me with hard claps on the back and affectionate insults that attacked my intelligence and manhood alike.
Although maybe I was wrong about that. They both studied me with eyes misted and overbright, Hadrian’s Adam’s apple bobbing in silence. I felt them all freeze, and against my will, I met eyes with the man I hated most in the world. Though, Thaan served as a quick understudy.
I forced my waist to bend before him, blood churning with malice and the odium of distrust. The King sucked in his breath at the sight of me. “We heard the report from the gate when you came in. You should have been here an hour ago.”
Hadrian and Aren dropped their gazes at the non-existent greeting, Aren’s mouth flattening as though to bury a flinch. I clasped my hands behind my back, hiding the tremor in my fingers. “I wanted to get Maren settled first.” And there’s no fucking way I’d willingly lead her to an audience with you.
Somehow, speaking her name led my eyes to meet Thaan’s. He gave no reaction to the incendiary stare I sent him, the corner of his mouth lifting in return. Emilius didn’t notice. He didn’t even bother to look at me as he studied a map laid out over the table. His beard and hair streaked with golden frost, he flung the cobalt cape that laid over one shoulder away to make use of his hand. “I’m told you came through the mountains. Our scouts can’t find a way in. Where did you pass through?”
Every muscle hardened within me, weighted with stony anger, not that I would have expected a loving reception from the man I'd referred to as my father all my life. I forced my feet into motion, approaching the table, my jaw suddenly aching with the pressure I used to seal it tight. Aren and General Senan stepped in close to watch my finger swerve over inked peaks and valleys.
“Here’s the Rivean camp,” I said flatly, stomach boiling with quiet rage at the sight of Hadrian now fighting tears as he glared at the floor. “Here’s where we worked our way through. They cut a trail just east of this line, it might be still buried now.”
Thaan ducked out of the tent, his servant on his heels, arms laden in scrolls. I watched the tent flap close over him, dark thoughts flashing through my mind.
“You’ll lead scouts there in the morning,” the King said.
I shook my head. “I promised my wife I’d take her back to Laurier Palace.”
“Piss on your island harlot,” Emilius muttered. “I don’t have time to make sure spoiled women are made comfortable. Sir Thaan is leaving for The City of Towers tomorrow; he can take her.”
In an instant, my blood raced. “No.” The word flew from my mouth before I could capture it, a rash bird streaking from a window, leaving me to watch it in mute shock. As my stomach began to cave in on itself, I ignored the feeling of Hadrian’s eyes on me, wide with fear.
The air in the tent became unearthly still, charged with cold and silent danger. The King’s lips barely moved as he spoke. “I think you’ve misheard me.”
Fuck. Take it back.
No. Don’t.
I fought the tremor in my hands. Senan watched with an expression of mild discomfort; Aren’s eyes shifted over the floor. But Hadrian’s stare bore into me like a dagger, and I felt the weight of his thoughts in my mind.
You fool, you fool, you fool.
I waited for my knees to buckle. “I promised my wife I’d escort her.” And I’d barter a deal with Darkness before I let Thaan leave Winterlight alone with Maren.
White lines appeared on either side of Emilius’s mouth. “Leave.”
Senan was the first out of the tent. Aren sent me a nervous glance as he followed. “Not you. You might as well hear this as well,” Emilius snapped as Hadrian’s feet neared the flap. The King’s eyes never left mine. We stared at each other in silence as the seconds dripped by, as cold and taunting as the snowmelt off the roof of this tent. Then he spoke, the cadence of his voice sharpening into smooth, lethal tones. “If I’d have realized all it took to control you was a bitch in heat, I’d have paired you with a mongrel six years ago. And if I didn’t think I’d be able to leverage island men into soldiers through her ties, this match never would have taken place.”
He stepped in closer. “But since you’ve taken a recent interest in breeding with dogs, let me inform you how to make bloodlines work in a master’s favor. If a pairing doesn’t offer you an advantageous outcome, you don’t waste your time letting two dogs bond. If a stud loses his head when his bitch is concerned, you put the bitch down. And if your dogs happen to breed under your nose and outside your plans, well… Pups easily drown in a vat.
“Do not make the mistake of thinking just because she’s married into this family, she’s safe.” Emilius paused at my shoulder and took his time wetting his lips. “I’ll use her to keep you in line, but the second I think you’ve strayed beyond it, the island bitch is dead.”
I took hold of his arm, gently, respectfully, though my grip was firm enough he couldn’t walk away. He stopped, and I met his eyes. Hadrian’s eyes, but without any of Hadrian’s warmth.
From my periphery, Hadrian stiffened, ashen as he watched us both.
“Compare my wife to a dog again,” I said leisurely, fighting to keep from growling the words. “And you will be the one to find yourself begging for scraps in a kennel. Threaten her life again, and you will find your own cut indefinitely short.”
He fixed me with a stare so cold and unforgiving I almost thought he’d call for my head right there. Madness flickered in his eyes, quiet and foreboding outrage, and I became very aware that I’d poured oil over a fire rather than douse the flames. The thudding in my chest slowly doubled, but Emilius extracted himself from my hold by simply walking away, vanishing through the tent flap.
Thick, greasy unease churned in my belly.
Hadrian’s hand landed on my shoulder. I let him roll me into a silent embrace, his gulping loud and thick in my ear, until we broke apart a moment later, our hug punctuated by firm slaps against each others backs. He shook his head at me, eyes veined and swollen. “That was a mistake.”
Aalto, he might’ve been right. The unease turned and bubbled. Roiled and built and fell, knotting with dread and nausea. But I shook my head.
“No, it wasn’t.”