Chapter 13
Thirteen
Our display of power worked. Many are eager to try their hand at sparring, and both armies need a chance to burn off their aggression toward the other.
So, the day trudges on with cracking wooden swords and an audience to supply encouragement.
This isn’t a long-term answer to training, but it’s a productive start.
I, on the other hand, can’t say I’m as helpful for the rest of the day.
I don’t want to return to the field or watch the sword play.
How did I ever believe I could harm Kyron in the past?
If I was being honest with myself, I would have realized that just the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach.
My anger had driven me for so long that I gave little thought to what would happen if I impaled him on my blade.
I wanted him to hurt as much as I did and stabbing him in the heart felt like the most comparable pain.
When I finally drew my fake blade down his chest, I had to force my head high and walk away from him like it was nothing. But it gutted me.
I spend the day with Leif talking strategy and reviewing ways we could fortify Basecamp from an Allaji attack.
We’re in the middle of nowhere, centrally located to reach any corner of Lucent in optimal time.
The camp is a sitting target with a wall that is no better than a picket fence compared to the one in Stigian.
If the Allaji infiltrated theirs with no problems, we will need to double our efforts if everyone here is to remain safe.
When my brain feels like mush and I can’t stand to comprehend one more idea, the sun has set for the evening.
I leave Leif and the strategy team to carry on with their planning and return to my room.
This time when I enter, it’s empty. No boots resting next to the fire, no leather jacket draped over a chair, no Kyron.
I bide my time alone, eating dinner at the small table and soaking in the tub until my fingers and toes wrinkle.
Unpacking the trunks of clothes keeps me busy until my eyelids are too heavy to keep open.
I slide on a simple linen nightgown and crawl into the cold, soft bed.
As tired as I am, my eyes remain wide open, staring at the ceiling while my brain asks a slew of questions about Kyron.
Is he really sleeping in the stables?
Did he take some blankets with him?
Is he thinking about me?
I turn to my side, pound my pillow with my fist, and force my eyes shut.
Is he sleeping shirtless and is the hay irritating his skin?
“Statera help me!”
I throw off the blankets, cram my feet in my slippers, and tie my robe into place. Grabbing the quilt from the bed, I head for the door and step into the quiet hallway. I ease my door shut so as not to wake those around me and turn on my toes.
“And where are you off to in the middle of the night?”
“Sweet Statera, Zek!” I clap my hand over my chest and a treasure trove of unforgettable memories come flooding back to me.
The embarrassing things I said and the kiss…
Shit. I can’t believe I kissed him. I fight the urge to throw the blanket over my head and slip back into my room and plaster a smile on my face instead.
“Kyron and I made a bet. He’s sleeping in the stables, and I thought it’s a cold night.
Did he take a blanket with him? I warned him to, but I noticed all the blankets in the room were still on the bed. So, I should—”
“You ramble when you’re nervous. It’s really cute,” he says.
“Oh, I didn’t… I’m not nervous. I was just taking him a blanket.” I hold up the quilt like it’s not obvious what my intentions are.
He leans his shoulder against the wall and crosses his arms. “I don’t think you’re nervous about the prince. It’s the little episode we had last night that has you tied up in knots. You did a fantastic job of avoiding me today, by the way.”
I puff out my cheeks and let out a breath that rattles my lips. “Why do you have to put it like that?”
“Because it’s true. The question is, are you embarrassed that it happened, or that you liked it?” His blue eyes glint with mischief and his mouth skews into a smirk.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet last night you wished your parah was like me.”
My cheeks burn and I bury them in the blanket. “I crossed a line, and I’m sorry I did that. It was unfair of me, and I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”
“You value my friendship?” he asks, lifting a brow.
“Yeah, I do.”
He releases a breath and pushes away from the wall. “Well, if the blanket situation doesn’t work out with your prince, come find me.”
“Zek…”
“I’m kidding.” He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Go, I’m sure he will be thrilled that you’re worried about his warmth.”
There is no jealousy in his tone, no hurt from rejection. If anything, Zek sounds amused by the situation. Maybe we can move past my drunken mistake and resume the carefree demeanor that always existed between us.
I squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go.”
By the time I reach the stables, my cheeks burn from the cold and my fingertips are numb.
I open the door just enough to give me room to slip inside.
I pause at the first stall, happy to see a familiar face.
Samson’s ears perk up over his black mane, and he stretches his mahogany muzzle over the wooden railing.
I pause to pet Kyron’s horse, fighting back a giggle when he presses his chilled nose to the side of my neck.
“It’s good to see you too, Sammy.” I ruffle his mane and give him a final stroke down his face before following the soft, flickering light coming from the stall in the back corner.
My heart races the closer I get, and goosebumps prickle my skin.
I may have had problems sleeping in a stable, but I’m sure Kyron has had to overcome worse conditions.
It couldn’t have been easy sleeping near a battlefield or finding shelter when searching for Stigians who slipped past our border.
This has to feel like a luxury in comparison to the hardships he faced in the military.
He’s probably out cold without a worry in the world.
When I’m able to peer over the chest-high wall, I find blankets piled on top of a thick later of hay.
Kyron sits at the head of his makeshift bed with his back resting on a bale of hay.
One leg is bent with a book resting against his thigh.
His feet are bare, his tunic loosened at the neck, and a rouge strand of black hair hangs over his forehead as he studies the page before him.
The sight of him takes my breath away. Even if he weren’t my parah, I’d still be drawn to him.
He looks up at me and smiles in a way that makes every muscle in my body melt. “Coming to make sure I’m upholding my end of the bargain?”
I lift the quilt over the railing and answer, “I was worried you would get cold.”
He opens his palm, and a small flame burns in the center. “Built in heat.”
Blood floods my cheeks, and I tuck my lips between my teeth. My excuse for being here was clearly not well thought out, which means the truth can’t be any worse. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about you. At all. All day.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” He closes his book and sets it to the side. “Would you like to join me?”
“I don’t know if that’s—”
“You know you want to, and I want you to.”
The truth is that I wasn’t going to put up a hard fight against the offer. I do want to be close to him.
I open the gate, and Kyron holds out his hand for the quilt. He shakes it out and throws it over his shoulders before opening his arms to me. I sit beside him, and he pulls me to his chest, cocooning us in the blanket.
We sit in silence, basking in the energy that flows between us.
It’s so different now that I know he is my parah.
I always thought it moved one way, but now I understand that he feels it too.
The hot sizzle of desire and the hum of tranquility.
There’s a rightness when we are together, like we each hold our own pieces to a puzzle that when placed together make the most marvelous picture.
“A question for a question?” Kyron softly asks.
“All right.”
“The last time we were here, you could use my flames in ways I couldn’t. Can you do the same with my Cognus powers?”
I play with the string on his shirt. “I don’t know. I’ve never felt compelled to try. It’s too invasive, and I don’t want that kind of insight to someone else. Besides, what if I scramble someone’s brain?”
“Good, I don’t want you to try,” he says, his voice raspy with emotion.
I stiffen against him. Does he really think I would abuse that power if I tapped into it?
The only time I’ve used it was within the realm of what he can do.
His Cognus gift isn’t powerful. He must touch someone to read their feelings, unlike some Cognus who can play with minds, bind memories, or make someone remember. I’m nothing like his…
“Did something happen with your mother?” I ask.
He exhales, and his arms tighten around me. “When she unbound my memories, I remembered things I wish I hadn’t. Things that would change the way people see me… things that changed the way I see myself.”
A deep sense of sorrow, heavy and thick, presses down on me.
The feeling almost makes it hard to inhale.
It’s a sensation that’s not my own but coming from him.
“If you want to talk about it, I’m listening,” I say, slipping my fingers beneath the collar of his tunic, hoping that my gentle touch brings him some peace.