Chapter 4 #2
“Are you ready to do this?” Ashavee asks, stepping out of the washroom with a pitcher of water and a stack of towels.
I push the inevitable into the depths of my mind and bat away my tears with the back of my hand. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
We set to work, each of us taking a washcloth and gently scrubbing the blood and grime away from Ulric’s body.
His eyes flutter, and he moans with each swipe over an extra sensitive spot.
We whisper apologies but never cease our work.
By the time he’s as clean as possible, the water in the pitcher is a deep rust color as are the washcloths.
I place a blanket over his lower body while Ashavee retrieves the healing salve and tends to the open sores on his face.
“Despite what he’s been through, he’s in fairly good condition,” she says, moving her fingertips to the dark bruise on his ribs.
“Go on and say it. I’m a handsome bastard.” Ulric cracks his swollen eyes and one side of his chapped lips lifts into a smile.
It isn’t as if Ashavee hasn’t heard such a direct approach before.
It’s commonplace in Allaji. The shifters don’t play coy with their attraction for each other, so it’s surprising that her eyes grow wide.
She opens and closes her mouth before saying, “I’m sure you’re acceptable when you don’t look like a slab of raw meat. ”
“Your pretty friend likes me, nanny goat.”
I can’t help but grin. It has been too long since I last heard the ridiculous nickname he’d given me. And a part of me feared I’d never hear his country brogue or see the freckles peppering his face again.
“Can I get you anything to help make you comfortable?” I ask.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of whiskey lying around, would ya?” I shake my head, and he sighs. “I suppose a glass of water will do.”
I don’t make it more than a couple of feet toward the table before Ulric’s next words stop me.
“He took it, didn’t he?”
I breathe through the renewed sorrow swelling in my chest. It isn’t necessary to ask him what he means. The worry in my friend’s voice says it all. My hands shake as I fill a glass. “He did,” I say.
“What’s he going to do with the Eporri?”
“Send it to Kyron.”
Ulric springs up from the mattress and groans. “He’s giving Esmeray both the Sacred Gifts? She’ll tear our kingdom to shreds.”
Ashavee pushes against his chest until he rests his head on the pillow again. “Down, boy. We don’t need you having heart failure as well,” she says.
Lifting my brows with the intent to brighten my face, I limp to the bed with the water in hand. “Esmeray’s dead, and Kyron is now king.”
“How? When?” he asks.
“It’s a long story that I’ll tell you when we’re both up to it.”
“And King Micah? Are the rumors true?”
“They are,” I answer, not bothering to mask my sadness.
I watch as the world Ulric remembers is obliterated into ashes swept away on violent winds.
The last glint of hope that gave him the will to fight in the throne room wavers in his eyes.
If Micah is dead and I’m here, he has to wonder about the state of our kingdom and the chances of the Cyffreds in the field being rescued.
He doesn’t know that I named an heir, choosing the man who betrayed us.
Ulric never had the chance to make amends with Kyron.
He never got to witness what I did, to see that Kyron has the potential to be the kind of king Micah was.
I’m not sure if I can convince him of what I know to be true.
The hurt Kyron inflicted on Ulric cut deep.
It took harsh words and strong promises to set Greer and Terro on a course to trusting him again.
Ulric was robbed of that chance. But that didn’t stop him from professing his loyalty to Kyron.
Aye. The best of friends, he had said to Zek.
I pray it was more than a show of defiance and still stands true.
His voice has a sullen tone as he says, “But with you here, the kingdom—”
“The kingdom is fine,” I say, cutting him off and placing the glass in his hand. “Kyron is king.”
“Stigian’s king.”
“Pliris’ king.”
His eyes meet mine over the rim of the glass. He lowers it from his lips and swallows hard. “Fuck.”
I brush my palm down the side of his face and cup his bearded jaw. This time, the sad smile I give him isn’t forced. My grief lodges in my throat, and a single tear trails down my face. “You missed a lot, friend, but I’m happy to see you again.”
He grips my wrist and rubs the long hair on his face against my hand. “No matter what his reasons were for betraying you, Kyron will come for you, Elle.”
“We made amends. In fact, everyone made amends with him, but you didn’t get the chance.” I bite down on my trembling lip, fill my lungs, and slowly release the air. “And I know he will come for me. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Ulric doesn’t know about the treaty between our kingdom and this one, but he understands that Kyron coming for me is exactly what Zek wants. One doesn’t need to be a scholar to understand that anything involving the Allaji king is bound to end in devastation.
With a curt nod, he curls his fingers around the back of my neck, bringing our foreheads together. “I still believe in him. Whatever it is, Kyron can overcome it.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him that this is a problem bigger than our armies can battle. I’ll do everything I can to let that small kernel of faith thrive deep inside him. He needs to hold onto it for as long as possible.
“I know,” I lie.
“Perhaps we can find a way to give your king what he wants before he steps foot on our land.”
Ulric and I turn to Ashavee. We were so lost in our little world of connecting the severed pieces of our lives that we forgot she was in the room. I pull away from him to find her leaning against the table, biting into a slice of fruit.
She lifts a dark eyebrow and continues saying, “Not all of us want war, nor do we want our kingdom built on the backs of those enslaved. We created our mess, and it’s up to us to clean it. I’ll help you find a way to escape.”
My jaw goes slack. In my time here, never have I heard someone in disagreement with Zek’s agenda. Like a pack of dogs, they’re unwavering in their loyalty to the one who feeds them. I didn’t think their nature allowed them to go against their leader, but there appears to be a rebel in their midst.
Ulric squeezes my fingers and smiles up at me. “I told ya, she thinks I’m a handsome bastard.”