Chapter Eighteen #2
Drunk as he was, Kai still noticed Ione’s door before they turned onto the main hall. “Ineen,” he called, his voice echoing in the nighttime silence.
“Kai, not again.”
“I wanna talk to her.” He wrestled away from River and slumped into the wall. “I don’t want her to hate me.”
River pulled at him. “Letting her sleep would be a good start.”
“I’ll figure it out,” Kai said, his forehead leaning against the door. “I’ll give her Menon back. I’ll bring Lina back. I’ll fix this.”
“You can’t, Kai. Lina’s gone and Menon’s a bitch.”
He looked up at River, bleary. “Lina’s at Soliz. I can feel it, the ward.” He pointed at his own neck. “This one. I’ll go get her. Throw her over my shoulder, bring her here, ta-da. Hero.”
River scrubbed his face, his brain snagging on Kai’s words. He had assumed, after Lina did not follow them up to Caelos, that she had drowned. Still, “Don’t be stupid. You can’t go to Soliz.”
“I can,” Kai returned, petulant.
He envisioned Kai, wasted out of his skull, storming the largest shrine to Sowelan in the country. “Nope. Not allowed.”
The lock clicked, startling them both into jumping back. Cynthia glowered out at them from the shadows, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“Go,” she ground out, “the hell to bed.” She waved for silence before either of them spoke.
“Four nights in a row. You are both fucking nuisances.” She pointed at Kai.
“Sober up.” And at River. “Man up.” And behind her, into the room.
“Ione can hear every godsdamn thing the two of you whinge about out here every night. Pair of yowling cats.”
She slammed the door without waiting for a response.
Kai stared at it for a moment. “Four nights?” he repeated, dumbfounded. He frowned as River slung an arm around him and walked him further down the hall. “What day’s it?”
They found the door to the quarters Kai had chosen for himself, small and not at all befitting Menon.
A room similar to the one he stayed in on Oseidos, except this one he immediately wrecked.
Kai squinted in the dark and groped for his key; it clattered to the floor and, cursing, he kicked the door open, kicked the key into the room, and staggered inside.
“Oh, welcome,” Kai said behind him when River sidled in. He was already pouring wine into a chipped cup; he took a swig and slammed it down. “Spiders. All of yous, spiders. Go ahead and blow me while you’re here. Everyone wants Menon’s blessing; Menon just wants to be alone.”
River’s shoulders fell. Fuck it: he’d deposited Kai back to his room and didn’t need to be here anymore. He turned, mumbling good night, but Kai lunged and grabbed his wrist.
“Wait, wait.” His arms shot around River’s abdomen. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I – don’t go.”
“It’s fine, Kai.” River breathed, willing himself to sober up, be the leader everyone expected him to be. “Just go to bed.”
Still behind him, Kai shook his head, his face buried into the back of River’s shoulder. “Ione’s my friend,” he murmured. “Was. But you…” He held River tighter, gripping fistfuls of River’s shirt in both hands. “There’s no one left after you. No one I trust.”
Kai emitted a choking breath and loosened his hold, and River, his heart twisting, turned to face him. Kai braced his hands on either side of River’s face, dragged the pad of his thumb across his lips, studied his features like he’d never seen them before. Like he expected never to again.
He screwed his eyes shut, trembling, reliving that night again. River shushed him, brought him back, traced his fingertips over the shell of his ear, the dark row of eyelashes. “We’re here,” River murmured. “We’re still here.”
Little by little Kai’s hands fell from River’s face, one settling at his waist, the other running up his chest, his neck, his jaw. “Stay here,” Kai whispered, closing in.
The first brush of Kai’s lips against his made him weak. Made him forget how certain he once was that Kai would make a story of him, the exhilaration of hurting him first. Kai kissed deeply, softly, so different to what River had expected from him, all teeth and nails and battles for control.
And just like the last night, the night before, the night before.
“Kai, stop.” River nudged him back. “I can’t do this again.”
His brows furrowed. “Again?”
“Yes,” River said forcefully, frustrated. So many things lurked within that one word. Stop drinking. Get a hold of yourself. Come back. Remember who you are.
“I’m sorry. I’m – I haven’t been doing good.” Kai took River’s face in both hands, his gaze intense. Alert. “I won’t forget again. I won’t let myself.”
“You can’t control that.”
“I can. I promise.”
River groaned, disappointed not only with Kai, who had no way of promising that, but with himself, for giving in. For wanting him, even knowing it was futile.
He was too far gone, his blood effervescent in his veins as Kai kissed him again.
He ran a palm down Kai’s side, flustered by the shallow dip in his waist, the solid, lean muscles; his fingertips delved into the waistband of Kai’s trousers, finding him hard.
Kai’s lips parted, emitting a breathless sound of approval that emptied every last thought from River’s mind.
But he woke back up at the pressure of Kai’s fingers fumbling at his trouser buttons.
This was torture, he thought, even as Kai took him into his hand, even as his tongue swept into River’s mouth: this was just an exciting new method of self-harm, letting himself think that this was real, and this was right, when tomorrow Kai wouldn’t even remember.
Kai moved to kneel, but River grabbed his arms and hoisted him back up. “Not again,” he hissed, his heart pounding. “Not when we’re drunk. You said no to the priestesses, the spiders, whatever – how did you feel when they still pushed you?”
Kai froze, stricken, his mouth moving wordlessly. Until, “I’m sorry.”
River pivoted and buttoned his clothes before angrily swiping at his eyes. “If you want me,” he murmured, still facing away, scanning a wine stain on the wall, a cracked mirror, the door to the ensuite hanging on one hinge. “Want me and mean it.”
“I do – ”
“Want me when you’re sober,” he amended. “When you can remember all the things you say and do the next day.”
Kai let him go, although the air quaked and ice crystals flurried past River. “And – you want me, right?”
“Of course I – ” River groaned, hating how pathetic he sounded. “This whole fucking time, I…”
Time stilled, save for the faint dusting of hoarfrost creeping across the floorboards. “I’ll remember,” Kai whispered. “Tomorrow. I’ll remember. And you’d better – ”
“I will.” River lingered at the doorway. “This time, I will.”
Kai hugged his arms, wretched in the jacket he’d borrowed from Etan, too big for him. He opened his mouth, closed it, staring at River like the distance between them caused him pain.
River tore himself away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, leaving Kai alone in the dark.
Kai did not need dragging out of his room the following day, which would’ve been a blessing if it wasn’t vaguely worrying.
River searched for him amongst Caelos’s endless halls and reception rooms, all thick with a tense, unsettled energy – and droves of people River didn’t recognise.
Not just soldiers or crewmembers from the Mahina ships, but more priests from other shrines; high-ranking friends and followers of Saros; merchants lugging boxes of food and supplies; blacksmiths, healers, cooks.
River noted their faces as he passed, dazed, but not so much that he didn’t realise what was happening.
Caelos was being used as a garrison, and whatever Saros planned for his war did not bode well for anyone not invited to stay here.
He spotted Kai across the banquet hall, out on a wide, open balcony overlooking the sea.
The stench of alcohol hanging about the hall hit River like a tonne of bricks; he held his breath as he hurried through, not bothering to stop and feign interest in Nalu as he barked orders at a slew of fresh-faced recruits to clear the place up.
The grey autumn sunlight made River’s head throb as he stepped out onto the balcony. Closer, he saw that Kai was hanging halfway over the stone balustrade, shivering; River called his name, cautiously, like he was waking a bear.
Perhaps less a bear and more a very sick rat. Kai flinched at the sound of his name and forced himself upright, his face pale. “Hey,” he said, wiping his mouth with a shaking hand. “It’s your fault I’m sober, right?”
His pulse fluttering, River squinted at him through the light, scanning for evidence that Kai recalled anything from yesterday.
Nothing. Kai looked agitated, his face coloured by a patchy shadow of stubble, his shirt buttoned incorrectly.
“I wouldn’t call this sober,” River said, relaxing somewhat.
There was comfort in this kind of disappointment.
A familiarity. “But you’re getting there. ”
Kai nodded, and then groaned, like he regretted moving his head. “I found my hoard of wine bottles all smashed this morning,” he muttered, looking perplexed and then grateful when River rebuttoned his shirt. “So whatever you said to make me think that was smart, thank you and fuck you.”
“You’re welcome, and fuck you, too.”
Kai smiled, frail but sweet. He faced the sea again, elbows resting on the balustrade, and motioned for River to join him.
A perfect row of ships docked out at the bay far below them, the Leviathos, the Tannos, and now the Cetos and the rest of the smaller ships in the Mahina clan’s fleet, all hidden from the rest of the mainland by an extension of the mountain into the sea.
People walked up and down the docks like lines of ants, carrying boxes, ushering in visitors, or dragging rattled horses back onto solid land.