Chapter 22 Eres
Eres
Kaelen has his back to me, his hands buried in a vat of heated water as he scrubs at one of Neela’s iron pots.
Several more wait beside him, all of them crusted with the remains of whatever Neela plans to serve up tonight.
It’s hot enough in here from the fires burning at the other end that sweat immediately prickles the back of my neck.
Kaelen’s shirt is damp with it as he swears below his breath.
I kissed her.
Lingering in the doorway as the faint noise from the hall trickles through, I watch him work. Kaelen stiffens, the draft from the door hitting his back. His face breaks out in a smile when he turns. “There you are.”
He’s always looked at me like that. As if the sun has just broken out after a long winter. And I’ve never looked anywhere else. Never even considered it, not when I had him.
I kissed her.
More than that. I tasted her. Her lips, her cheeks, her skin. The hollow of her throat, my lips exploring when they have ever only belonged to him. And now that I’ve had a taste, I find that I only want more.
That perhaps I might want everything from the Lightbringer I found in the snow, and it scares the fuck out of me.
“What’s wrong?” Kaelen wipes his hands off, already reaching for me. “Eres?”
There is no limit to who we can love. I know that. Fuck, but I’ve been telling Kaelen that for years. Nudging him to face what he tries to ignore and what’s so damned obvious to every single wielder in Umbraxis.
No heart was meant to hold a single soul.
But it was always supposed to be him. Kaelen. Darian.
Never me. And never her.
And yet the knowledge doesn’t feel heavy, or even particularly new. Perhaps I knew all along. I saw Lyra in the Veilspire, saw her broken and bloodied and still fighting for every breath when she should have been dead long before I arrived, and I knew then, I think.
She didn’t belong there. She didn’t belong with them, with those who hurt her and abused her and made her into whatever and whoever she is. They gave her nightmares, and I’d take every single one of them if I could.
I swallow. “I kissed her.”
His hands stop in mid-air. Kaelen stares at me, his expression frozen. “What?”
He knows what I’m talking about. Immediately. I know every single part of this man, from the anger he shows to the rest of the world to the pain he tries to hide as best he can.
And he tries to hide it from me now, a shutter appearing over his eyes as he drops them. “I see. Where is she?”
There’s no anger in his words. Wariness, perhaps.
“Sera is bringing her.”
“It’s the Binding,” Kaelen says slowly. He takes another step, but he stops himself, and it hurts my heart. He sounds almost desperate. “That’s all it is. I know what it feels like, Eres.”
“I don’t think so.” I search his face, looking for answers. “But if it is, how can you stand it? Why do you still punish him, Kae?”
Months. He and Darian have been Bound for months. It’s been a few days with Lyra, and I can barely breathe without needing to know where she is. “You told me these feelings were temporary. Were you lying? If you told me the truth, then you know it’s not the Binding that makes me feel them.”
I won’t hide behind Erevan’s blessing. “The kiss was my decision.”
Instead of answering, Kaelen presses his forehead to mine, breathing deeply. I need the contact just as much as he does. His words are quiet. Careful. “Is this your way of telling me this—us—is ending, then? That you’re done with me?”
Never. My heart threatens to shred beneath sharp, savage blades. “Is that the only choice? You, or her? We have so little time left, Kae.” My voice shakes, my eyes burning. “I’m not going to choose between you.”
Don’t, I beg him silently. Don’t make me choose.
His lips brush mine. “I’m not asking you to. But… she’s one of them.”
His voice no longer holds the derision it did. It almost sounds like a question.
“Lightbringer, Darkwielder,” I breathe. “What does it matter, Kae? That might be all they see us as, but it’s not who we are. And it’s not who she is.”
They see us only as shadows. As enemies. A scourge to be wiped from the earth.
They don’t see us kneeling in the soil to feed the few people we have left.
They don’t see the soldiers who take shifts to watch over each other’s families while their friends are on patrol, picking up the pieces when they don’t come home.
They don’t see Kaelen’s determination to give everything he is to Umbraxis, even down to scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, or in the way we’ve planned our end to try and give a handful of souls a single chance at life.
They don’t see us as individuals at all.
Vaelion’s army is a single, massive beast, and they’ll swallow us soon enough. “Don’t make the same mistake as him.”
Kaelen sucks in a breath. Behind us, the door bangs and he pulls back. His eyes are heavy, filled with doubt, but he attempts a smile. “You don’t need my permission. But you have it anyway.”
“I know that.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “But I still wanted it.”
“Go on.” He nods to the hall. “I’ll be in soon. I just need to finish these.”
The tables are set up as usual, though half of them remain empty, and a handful of familiar faces greet me as I pass them.
Few manage a smile. Lyra and Sera aren’t here yet, but Valcor and Nythen have their heads together at the end of the table closest to the doors.
Darian is there too, staring down into his cup.
Still bruised beneath the eyes. Still hurting.
I slide into the seat opposite him. “How are you?”
“Fine,” he says listlessly. His fingers toy with the cup. “How’s Lyra?”
“After last night?” I consider it. “She acts as if nothing of note happened.”
He frowns, still looking disturbed. “Her nightmares felt familiar to me. Almost worn, as if she has them often.”
His eyes lift to the door, and a flicker appears there that I recognize all too well as he rises from his seat.
“Good evening.” The words are soft.
I jump to my feet, pulling out a chair. A handful of volunteers begin streaming out from the kitchen with platters and heavy pots, each table receiving a share as they spread out.
Lyra slips into the seat beside mine, Sera taking the one beside Dorian without waiting for an invitation.
Valcor looks up, his gaze catching on his daughter and remaining there.
She doesn’t look at him.
“Where’s Elspeth?” Darian asks. “Figured she’d be here too.”
Sera shrugs, reaching for the jug between us and sniffing it.
Her face wrinkles in distaste. “Getting ready, most likely. She said she’d try to join us if she could, but she’s an overpacker.
Whoever had the bright idea to create wine from gloam-root deserves to be offered up to the witches on a platter. This smells like shit.”
A beat of silence follows before she sucks in her cheeks. “Uh. Sorry, Lyra.”
“It tastes better than it smells,” Darian mutters. He drains his cup without wincing. “Down in one is best.”
It looks like he might have downed more than one. Sera’s eyes linger on him.
I lean into Lyra. She’s silent, observing the hall around us. Many eyes still slide her way, but most are focused on their own discussions. “Are you alright?”
A small nod. Her words are hesitant. “Where’s Duskbane?”
Ah. Her searching makes sense now. “In the kitchen.”
He backs out of the doors a few moments later, carrying the platters for our table. Lyra’s brows draw together. “He’s working in the kitchen?”
“We all work in the kitchen.” Sera attempts a sip of the gloam-root wine, wincing. “Neela can’t be everywhere at once. Tonight is just his turn—especially since he missed his shift this morning.”
Her voice raises in time for Kaelen to catch her words as he approaches.
His lips lift in a lopsided smile as he places the first platter piled with sliced meat and vegetables closest to us, balancing the second in his hand for the other end where Nythen and Valcor sit.
“Believe me when I say Neela is making me pay for it. I think she dirtied several pots twice just for me to wash them again.”
Lyra watches him with raised eyebrows, and he offers her the same look. “What is it, witch? Do you think I’m too proud to serve at table?”
“I didn’t say that.” She looks down the table. There’s an empty seat beside her. And another one beside that, though Maelira clearly isn't planning on attending. Lyra sounds awkward. “You’re not eating?”
He lifts the second platter. He still hasn’t looked at me. “When I’m done.”
As he moves away, Lyra leans into me. “You told him, didn’t you?”
“How did you know?” A scent rises from her damp hair as she shifts, and I breathe it in.
Kaelen’s scent. The mix is almost intoxicating.
“He’s not looking at you.” Her eyes remain on Kaelen as he offers the platter to Nythen and Valcor.
She doesn’t ask any more. Lyra remains silent as Kaelen takes the seat beside her, pulling his plate toward him and reaching for the food before checking our plates to make sure we’ve all taken some.
He addresses his words to Lyra. “My mother wasn’t able to attend this evening. She sends her apologies.”
I haven’t seen her since the Council meeting where Lyra was first introduced, and even that was a surprise. Kaelen will fight until the end, but his mother gave up on Umbraxis a long time ago.
She dips her head in acknowledgment, but his attention is drawn away to Eldritch as he enters the hall. Our instructor takes the seat beside Kaelen at his gestured invite, groaning as he eyes the food. “My bones don’t like the cold as much as they used to.”
Sera grins. “There’s nothing wrong with your bones, old man. Perhaps it was the day spent in the ring. I saw more soldiers on their ass than anything else.”
He sighs. “We were practicing after the earlier session. They saw some moves they’re not familiar with. If you’re willing, Lyra, I wouldn’t mind showing them again tomorrow.”