Chapter 33 #2
“Feckin’ hell,” he mumbled, wincing as he touched his nose.
It was broken—again. And while he wasn’t at all surprised, he was incredibly annoyed.
He closed his eyes as he took a shuddering breath, his stomach rolling as he thought about the way his uncle's fist had connected with his jaw and then again with his nose and his brow. His eye was already turning purple, but he couldn’t find the will to bother trying to cover it.
He bit down on his lip as he felt his nose crack, popping it back into place like he had done dozens of times before.
He could’ve gone to Isra, who would’ve discreetly made him whole again, but there was something about forcing his parents to see him like this that made him stand a little taller.
His mum would see what she was allowing, would not be allowed the excuse of saying she didn’t know.
His phone buzzed as he wiped the last of the blood from his brow, a text popping up on the screen.
Supper in ten.
Killian didn’t have to be told twice. He quickly changed shirts and made his way out of the manor and toward the Kitts’.
His chest already felt lighter as he walked through the front door, the smell of Eira’s scones floating through the foyer.
“What on earth,” Eira gasped, as she walked out of the kitchen, her brow furrowed as she cupped Killian’s face. She clicked her tongue as she shook her head. “You children will be the death of me. Come in the kitchen. I’ve got an ointment that should take away the sting.”
“I’m fine, Mum, really,” Killian said, as he shook his head.
Eira cocked her brow, both hands on her hips as she stared at him. Killian swallowed dryly as he followed her into the kitchen. She was not a woman to argue with. Eira rummaged through the medicine cabinet, pulling out vials and tins as she mumbled to herself.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked, as she began applying the tincture to his brow.
He winced as the wound pulsed and shook his head. “It was nothing,” he replied, “just a stupid mistake.” Not even Eira, with all her fire and strong will, could save him from his family, from who he was at his core.
She narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t push any further. “Have you heard from Ember lately?”
Killian sucked in a breath. He couldn’t tell Eira and Otto where she was—couldn’t drag them into whatever mess was going on over there when they had enough to worry about. And if they found out what they were planning, she would lock them away until they were eighteen years old.
“Not lately,” he mumbled in reply.
Eira hummed something as she dabbed the last of the ointment on his face and closed the lid to the jar. “We all miss her,” she replied, as she patted his cheek, “both of them. You are not alone in your grief. Don’t shut out the ones that love you.”
Killian didn’t have the energy to argue.
“You made it!” Fen grinned as he walked into the kitchen, but his face fell when he saw his best friend’s face. The shock quickly turned to anger as he pursed his lips. Fen knew exactly where the bruises had come from.
“Can we eat upstairs?” he asked, as he turned to Eira. “We have some work to finish.”
Eira narrowed her eyes, then bobbed her head as she nodded toward the trays on the counter.
“Don’t leave your plates upstairs. I don’t want bugs,” she said, as she put away her tonics and salves.
“I’m down here if you need anything.” She smiled as she made her way through the back door, no doubt to round up Osiris and Otto before the shepherd’s pie grew cold.
Killian stood in the kitchen for a beat, her words ringing in his ears.
I’m here.
If only she knew how much weight those words carried.
They boys made their way to Fen’s room where Fen proceeded to sit back at his desk and resumed scratching away at his notebook while he took bites of his supper.
“Did you ever get it to work?” Killian asked, as he settled himself on the bed. He knew the answer before he asked it, but he tried anyway. Fen shook his head, and they left it at that.
“I played with the code a little,” he said, as he picked up another bite of his food, “to see if maybe I could get the message to reach past the wards, but it didn’t work.”
Killian nodded—he’d expected as much. Whatever magic Helvig was wielding, it was strong. They wouldn’t get through it easily.
Just as they were finishing their supper, not even twenty minutes later, Fen’s phone screen flickered on the desk. Just a little. Both boys whipped their heads around, and it flickered again. This time for a little longer.
A connection.
“She’s by the wards,” Fen mumbled, eyes wide, shoving his plate to the side. His eyes met Killian’s and they both nodded—this was their chance. Fen clicked the button to record, and Killian knew he only had a few seconds before she was gone again.
“We’re coming, Starshine,” he said more clearly than he ever thought he could speak. “Don’t give up on me now. We’re coming.”
He could’ve sworn he felt the bond at his chest thrum in reply.