Chapter 16
Gemma
I n the end, Azur wasn’t even at breakfast.
Regardless, I’d worn my only high-necked dress, one that nearly went to my ears, in defiance. I’d already picked it out the night before, smoothing the wrinkles out over the chair. This morning, I’d been dressed before Ludayn had even knocked, mentally prepared for another sparring round with my maddening husband.
But he hadn’t showed. I’d eaten in peace, gazing out from the private terrace, admiring the ridges and dips of the northern mountains as I’d nibbled on a sweet bread spread liberally with a shimmering blue jam. A slab of delicious cheese—mottled with black streaks and encased in a tough red rind—had accompanied the small meal, weighing me down and sticking to my ribs as I’d planned out my day. The tea sludge had gone untouched, however.
Truthfully, I was itching to return to Maazin’s offices, to sort through the records. To get them organized, perhaps even uploaded to a secure Halo system for easy accounting.
To anyone else, record keeping might’ve been frustrating and dull work. But I quite enjoyed it. At least, I enjoyed it when my family’s own well-being and safety wasn’t at the stake of those numbers.
And that was exactly how I spent my morning and afternoon.
Azur had given me freedom around the keep—though I didn’t disclose what I was doing within the walls. I only needed his permission to leave the grounds.
If Maazin was surprised to see me, he didn’t show it. He’d only directed me to a stack of papers he had set aside, his brows furrowed in concentration—a little bead of sweat dotting his brow—as he made manual calculations over a scrap piece of parchment.
We worked mostly in silence. It was almost peaceful .
“Why don’t you upload all the records to a Halo database?” I asked him, just as the sun began to sink in the sky, stretching my back. “You would have the calculations almost instantly, and if you programmed the system to account for new harvest yields, it would take no time at all to get these reports done.”
Maazin swallowed, shifting back in his modified chair. Most had a slim, vertical back so there was enough room for a Kylorr’s wings. He rolled his neck. I heard a pop .
“This is how it has always been done,” Maazin said, his voice low. “To House Kaalium, tradition is important.”
“So is progress,” I argued, though it was under my breath and my tone was a little distracted as my eyes caught on a string of numbers. “How long have you worked for the family?”
“A few years now,” he said.
“Did you grow up in Laras?” I asked. “In the villages below the keep?”
“No,” he said, frowning, a harsh tone in his voice making my gaze jump to him. When he saw me watching, his lips quirked up, and he ran a hand over his ivory horn. I hadn’t seen another Kylorr—at least within the keep—with light-colored horns. Whatever I’d heard in his voice smoothed away, his pleasant tone returning to fill in the silence, “But I would’ve liked to. The harvest season is especially exciting. Kylorr come from all corners of the Kaalium to celebrate it. Just last year, I met a female from a northern village outside of Laras. She made me try her family’s brew, a recipe passed down for generations, and promised me a kiss for every sip I took without retching.”
“And how many did you manage?” I asked, biting back a grin. “Kisses, I mean.”
Maazin chuckled, his expression becoming sheepish yet conspiratorial. “I couldn’t tell you. Whatever was in that brew made me forget the whole festival entirely. She’s just a shadow in my memory now.”
My laugh rang through the library.
The day flew by quickly. I hardly even noticed, too consumed in tracing the path of the unexpected history of lore and all its exports from the Kaalium.
“The bulk of the harvest isn’t complete yet,” Maazin warned me, standing from his chair to touch a light orb. It illuminated the darkened room almost immediately, and for a moment, I was confused. Was it night already? “Laras’s harvest hasn’t even begun. These reports are from the other territories.”
“The other territories?” I asked, my eyes going a little bleary. I’d been staring at parchment all day, kneeling on the ground in my dress since I’d made multiple stacks of records around me, sorted by year. “Of the Kaalium?” I questioned.
I was starving, I realized. My stomach was growling, though a tray of food had been brought in for us sometime in the afternoon. Ludayn. Ludayn had brought it in for us, though she’d been frowning at my position on the floor. Maazin and I had devoured it, chatting about the village as we’d munched on fruit and dried meats. He’d listed off his favorite food stalls, which I’d made a mental note to track down. Maybe Ludayn could come with me.
Stretching, hearing my back pop, I listened as Maazin said, “Yes. Erzos. Kyne. Vyaan. And Salaire.”
So that was what those names were. I’d come across them in the records.
“And Laras is the capital,” I said quietly, filing those names away, itching to find a map of the Kaalium in the library if I could. “Who runs those territories if Azur is here in Laras?”
“My brothers,” came the dark, familiar voice. I jumped, swinging around to face the door.
Just like that, all the ease left me, replaced by a sensation of tight and heightened awareness. My heart started pumping. I wondered if my husband could hear the sudden rush of my blood as he silently stepped into the room.
“ Kyzaire ,” Maazin said quietly, scrambling to stand, inclining his head. “I hope my report was to your satisfaction.”
“It was,” Azur said coolly, “though it was late.”
I pressed my lips together as Azur’s gaze landed on me.
His brothers? I wondered.
There were more highly arrogant Kylorr males ruling the Kaalium, who looked like him, all dark and brooding and frightening?
“What are you doing here?” he asked me, the question pointed and low.
I couldn’t get a read on him. I couldn’t tell if he was upset, angry, bewildered, or indifferent. Or maybe he was just hungry.
My cheeks flushed, remembering our agreement.
“I’m organizing these records with Maazin,” I told him, craning my neck back to meet his eyes. My legs were asleep beneath me, so even if I stood now, I’d look like a wobbling fool.
Azur slid an assessing gaze around the room, noting the stacks of parchment, some clearly older than others judging by the yellowing of the pages and the dusty, torn edges. I was working on the oldest stacks—labelled dates going back nearly a hundred years, written out in faded blue ink—and Maazin said he would handle more recent years. We would meet somewhere in the middle.
Azur’s jaw hardened.
“You’re not allowed in here, Gemma,” he finally said, his tone unmistakably sharp and clipped. “Come. Now .”
Tension sank into the room.
When I didn’t move, Azur stepped farther inside, his movements quick. His eyes cut to the high neck of my dress, and I watched as his fangs elongated. Maazin stepped forward, but Azur didn’t even look at him as he ordered, “Leave us.”
Maazin was skirting around the desk before I could even think to be frightened. He met my eyes as he passed. I saw him hesitate, briefly, before Azur growled out, “Maazin.”
The ivory-horned male passed Azur, inclining his head, before he finally left the room, closing the door behind him.
Leaving me alone with Azur, who looked like he was in a foul mood tonight.
“Is this your idea of submission, wife?” he asked, stepping closer, weaving effortlessly around large stacks of parchment like they were ancient columns. His tone was deceitfully gentle, and it sent alarm bells ringing in my mind. “Disobeying me?”
“I’m just trying to be useful,” I told him, steeling my spine despite my kneeling position on the floor. “I’m out of your way, aren’t I? And this room is a mess. There’s no order or—”
“If I wanted you to work, then I would put you to work,” he growled. “These records are off limits to you. Or do you not see the irony in letting you handle our record keeping for the Kaalium’s most profitable export?”
I nearly flinched at his unspoken barb.
“The debts were my father’s,” I said, narrowing my eyes. I had the sudden fear that he really would forbid me from this place, when this had made my day feel full and satisfying. I enjoyed being in here with Maazin. Enjoyed the idle chatter in between bouts of concentration. “I did what I could to keep us safe, and I succeeded . Don’t doubt my abilities, Azur. I know numbers. I know they don’t lie.”
“You succeeded?” he repeated softly, crouching in front of me so that we were eye level. “Is that why I had to pay off two hundred fifty vron worth of debts to numerous collectors who were salivating at the thought of you defaulting? Is that what you call succeeding?”
Every conversation we ever had always made me feel a little lower than I had before. But I was determined not to let him.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
The soft question was out of my mouth before I could think better of it.
I had my suspicions about why I was here. Truthfully, I didn’t think it had anything to do with me specifically.
Azur stilled.
“Have I done something to you? To hurt you?” I wondered. “To make you want to hurt me like this?”
We stared at one another. His brows pulled down. His scowl was menacing.
“Tell me,” I pleaded softly. “Tell me what it is. Because the marriage contract I signed in blood was for life . There is no escaping this, and so I’m trying , Azur. I’m trying to make this life meaningful so that it doesn’t hurt every day. What would you have me do? Do you want me to wander these halls and do nothing at all? Only await whenever you wish to feed from me next? What about all the other moments in between? Because there are so many, and they would feel endless without a purpose .”
Azur’s gaze flickered.
For a moment—a moment that nearly made the air rush from my lungs—I thought he looked discomfited. A brief flash of remorse, of guilt, before it was gone.
He was silent.
For a long time, he didn’t say anything at all. Just regarded me with those molten eyes.
But when he spoke next, his tone didn’t hold the same cutting edge. “Tell me how the debts came to be.”
That…that wasn’t what I’d been expecting him to say.
His voice was still gruff. It felt like I was tearing the words straight from his throat. He didn’t want to ask…and yet, I felt like he was trying to understand.
Maybe—just maybe—my words had some effect on him.
My feet tingled when I shifted on my knees. There was still a hardened lump in my throat, but I tucked a stray hair behind my ear that had escaped from my bun throughout the long day.
There has to be some give between us, I realized. Unless we want to live in a miserable existence, we need to try to understand one another.
The only thing I could do was try.
“I suspect that my father has had a long history with collectors,” I began slowly, hesitant. Tentative . “My mother would have known, I suppose, but if she did, she hid it well. The signs were there though, even when I’d been young. Too young to even understand.”
“What signs?” Azur asked. There was a part of me that felt like he had a right to know these things. He’d paid off the collectors on behalf of my family, after all.
“Even before the war,” I said, casting my eyes down to the stack of parchment between us. Did he flinch? I didn’t look up to check. “We didn’t live in the Collis then. My sisters had just been born.
“We lived in a place called New Inverness. A small planet, though deeply divided by wealth and poverty. My father was a poor solider from an even poorer family. My mother was the daughter of a nobleman. As such, when they married—though my grandfather protested the match at first—he still wanted his daughter to be secure. He still bought them land. A small house. A stable with three horses because my mother had grown up riding and her father knew she loved them. And me too. She taught me how to ride. But one day, one of the horses was gone. Two months later, another one. My horse was the only that remained. Then I had an accident. She got spooked during a ride, and I got thrown off her back. I broke my arm.”
The story came pouring out from me, a memory that I hadn’t thought of in years until this moment. And I didn’t know why I was telling Azur this particular, vulnerable memory. Likely he would use it against me. But I still found the words coming out, drifting into the quiet space between us and echoing up in the tall room.
His ember eyes were pinned on me. I couldn’t read him. I couldn’t determine what he was thinking.
There has to be some give, I thought again, pushing forward.
“A few days later, my horse was gone too. My father claimed it was because riding was too dangerous, that he didn’t want me to get hurt. But now, especially in recent years, I think he was selling them. They’re expensive animals. Rare too. New Inverness is one of the last places that breeds them in all the Quadrants. I think someone paid him very well or he owed money that he couldn’t pay back.”
It still ached to think about. It ached to think what happened to her. I’d loved my horse. I’d called her Min. I’d spent hours and hours with her, every day for years . She’d been there before I could even walk. Thinking about the sudden loss of her, I knew it had been my first experience with heartbreak.
Truthfully, it felt cruel to me, looking back on it now with knowing eyes.
“Things would go missing from around the house. Valuables. Gold. Heirlooms,” I said, my voice nearly dropping into a whisper as shame built up in my chest. “Then the war happened, and it was like we forgot. We were only concerned with his return. If he’d come back at all. When he did, decorated in medals and accolades, we moved to the Collis. A gift from the New Earth forces. And for a brief time, everything felt perfect. It felt as it should.”
Then my mother’s depression had returned. Everything had changed again. But I didn’t voice that.
“Things began to disappear again,” I told him. “My father’s medals. Silverware. A necklace that my grandmother gave to my mother. Old family portraits.”
I forced myself to meet Azur’s eyes, afraid of what I’d find there. Judgment, perhaps. Disgust. For someone so wealthy, how could he understand the desperation? The constant, clawing worry of piles and piles of debt until you felt like you were drowning in it, unable to escape?
He was expressionless, however. His face was a cold, blank slate, as if I were speaking to a wall and not a living, breathing male.
It was a small relief, truthfully.
Swallowing, I said, “You have to understand that I didn’t discover the debts until five years ago.”
After Mother had been gone.
“My father was over five hundred vron in debt then,” I whispered, feeling my nostrils sting as I forced myself to say the number. “A collector had come to the estate. He…he hurt my father. Made him bleed, broke his arm. Only then did he tell me the truth.”
Azur’s gaze finally flickered. He finally moved. His wing twitched behind him and he ran a rough palm across his left horn.
“ Raazos, ” he murmured under his breath, looking away from me for a brief moment before his eyes cut back. His lips pressed together.
“I cut the debt down to two hundred fifty vron since then, even with the added interest.”
He rumbled, “How did you do that on your own?”
“I took over the management of the blue salt mines on our land in the Collis, which was our only source of new income. Coordinated all the exports. Negotiated with the collectors. I cut back our staff and tried to curb my family’s spending. I kept my sisters safe, protected. I…I…”
This was mortifying. It truly was. Admitting all this to Azur.
But I had done what I could for my family.
And while I didn’t quite feel proud to have paid off half of the debts on my own, I felt that I had at least done something .
“And then I married a Kylorr, who offered to make it all go away,” I finished softly. “Though I didn’t know what to expect. And in many ways, I still don’t.”
If there was nothing else, I would always be grateful to him for that. Regardless of what he wanted from me or how he treated me…he had thrown my family a lifeline. A way out . A fresh start for my father and, most importantly, my sisters. Fran too.
“And I know there is something more happening here,” I added softly. “Something I don’t understand or even see. Something that you gain from this.”
Azur’s eyes glowed as we regarded one another. It was a prodding statement, though I thought we’d both heard the question in it. Not that I expected him to answer it.
In the end, he didn’t.
Azur slowly rose from his crouch, silent and graceful for someone so large. His gaze cut away from me, quick and flitting, like he was… uncomfortable . Uncomfortable with the sudden shift of energy between us. Because I felt it. He must have too.
Dropping my gaze back to the pile I’d been sorting through, I ran my eyes unseeingly over the structured columns, filled with information that I wanted to learn about. Origin. Type . Soil. Weight. Plant Health. Stalk Width. Plume Span.
“I work hard,” I said. “And I would like to help. This way of record keeping is outdated and inefficient. I can make it so much easier. I know the Halo systems well. I can upload everything to a secure database that you can set up yourself, if you’d like, if you don’t trust me to do it.”
When I met Azur’s eyes, his nostrils flared.
“These are all just old harvest records anyway,” I said gently. “What harm could I possibly do?”
My heart was beating fast. I wanted this. Would he be cruel for no other reason than to deny me what I wanted?
“Don’t distract Maazin while you’re in here,” Azur finally said. “And stay out of his way once Laras’s yield reports come in.”
Hope rose.
“He’s already distracted enough.”
I’d noticed.
“I’m very good at keeping to a schedule,” I told him. “I can keep him on track.”
Azur grunted.
Frankly, I was astonished. But I held it together. This was also the longest we’d gone without flinging insults back and forth at one another.
There was a smoothing hum that was coming from the orb light Maazin had flicked on once the sun had set. They were meant to be silent, but like everything in this room, there was something disorganized about its innards.
Likely a frayed coil. I’d replaced enough in our estate in the Collis when we could no longer afford to have a tradesman come for repairs. I could probably fix it myself if I had—
“Your father will never stop, Gemma.”
I stilled, flicking my gaze from the orb light to my husband, who stood tall and proud in front of me.
“But you know that. Don’t you?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.