30. Kira
Chapter 30
Kira
IS THIS MAGIC?
A fter all that, I told Reznyk last night after we stumbled down from the meadow in the glorious haze of a singularly fantastic sunset, you’d better spend the night in the bed with me.
And he did. We fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms, woke in the night for slow, dreamlike sex, and then collapsed once more, the sheets a hopeless tangle around our feet, the gray cat giving us a dirty look from the hearth.
I sigh as early morning light falls through the window to paint the stones of the hearth. I feel strange, light and fluttery, like something with wings is trapped inside my chest and it might just burst into song. Beside me, Reznyk’s dark hair spills over the pillows. His shoulders rise and fall with his breath. I smile as I remember Zayne saying he loves it when they leave in the middle of the night.
Not me. I love it when they stay. What’s better than waking up to find you aren’t alone in the dark?
I pull my arm out of the covers, reach for Reznyk, and then hesitate. The gods only know where he slept after I invited him to travel to the Port of Good Fortune with me, a suggestion that was apparently so offensive that he had to stomp off and curl up in some dark corner for the night.
Some of the fluttery feeling in my chest dissipates. I kick my feet out of the blankets as gently as possible, then step out of bed. There’s a chill in the air this morning, although the sky is clear and the sun will soon chase it away. Still, winter is creeping toward the mountains. What was it the Exemplar said before we left? We have two months until snow closes travel in the Daggers?
And Reznyk probably has no idea what winters are like up here. Hells, the man probably never saw snow until he joined the Towers in Silver City.
I shake my head. I should be basking in the glow of a half-dozen orgasms this morning, damn it. Not lost in a tangle of worries about the future that’s loping toward us like a direwolf with its teeth bared.
I stop at the door and glance back at Reznyk. The sun filters around his shoulders, almost making him glow, and suddenly I remember the golden lights dancing around us in the meadow when we made love, like a private world of stars.
I push the door open, step into the light, and let it close softly behind me. I can’t stop what’s coming any more than I could stop the sun rising this morning. I’m going to the Port. Reznyk is staying here. But he gave me something incredible last night. Whatever happens next, I’ll have that to hold onto.
Still, my throat feels tight and the shimmering flutter in my chest has vanished as I walk across grass thick with dew toward Reznyk’s garden. I decided sometime in the night that I’m not going to leave this cabin until I sit him down and tell him exactly what he’s going to need to make it through the winter. How much butter, salt, and flour. How many bags of beans and potatoes. I stocked the orphanage larder for years; I plan on giving him a very thorough list and then making him swear on whatever it is he cares about that he’ll do whatever it takes to get that shit up here.
I don’t think it’s a conversation he’ll enjoy. And if I’m going to greet him with that, the least I can do is make breakfast first.
The fence around Reznyk’s garden is more of a suggestion than an actual barrier. Still, I walk to the gate instead of stepping over the fence. The rising sun hits the garden first, making last night’s dew sparkle. I watch my breath as it rises like smoke before me. It won’t be long until that dew is frost, and then snow.
I run my hands up and down my arms as I walk through the scraggly rows of vegetables, looking for something that could conceivably serve as breakfast. Maybe I can convince Reznyk to get some chickens, although then he’d have to build a coop and then worry about filling their beaks all winter.
The carrot patch has a few ragged survivors from whatever rodent ate the rest from the ground up. I pull those, then yank a fat beet from the soil and try to stop thinking about all the things that would actually taste good for breakfast. Like bacon.
Frowning, I search for something to carry the vegetables so I can wash them off in the stream. There’s a stack of old wooden planks nearby, with a rake and a bucket.
Perfect. I bend down and grab the bucket.
The handle comes off in my hand.
“Shit,” I mutter, reaching for the rest of it.
I tug the bucket away from the pile of wood and realize there’s a jagged crack down the side. If I put any weight in this thing, even carrots, it might snap in two. With a sigh, I lean down to tuck the bucket back into its final resting place.
Something glints in the sunlight under the old planks.
A shiver crawls up the back of my neck like a cloud passing before the sun. It can’t be anything important, that flash of metal under the old wooden planks. Maybe it’s a trowel, or part of a hinge that rusted and fell apart.
Still, I set the bucket down and crouch by the stack of wood. My breath catches in the back of my throat as the sun shines off the hidden piece of metal. When I reach for it, prickles dance along the back of my arm.
My throat feels like a vise, twisting until it’s closed. The birds singing from their hidden perches in the bushes suddenly feel like they’re far away, part of another world. Even the warmth of the sun on my skin feels distant.
Is this magic? After all this time, am I finally touching my potential?
My fingers brush something cool and smooth, then close around it. I pull back, gasping like I’ve been shocked. Something inside my chest writhes like a snake. My fingers slowly unfold, revealing a metal disc.
I know what it is. Even before I run my fingers around its smooth edges and pull it into the sun, before I see the strange patterns carved into the dark metal, some part of me recognizes what this is. What it has to be.
It could be a leftover artifact from the ruined keep, some sort of decoration or seal. Maybe it was part of a door that long ago rotted into the earth.
But it’s not.
It’s the amulet.
This is what the Towers gave Reznyk before they sent him to kill the old god. It’s what Tholious was supposed to bring back from the Daggers. Hells, it’s what I’m supposed to bring back. I rock back on my heels, set the metal disc in the dirt, and rub the fingers that touched it.
I felt something when I reached for it, didn’t I? Something cold, like walking down a dark alley and hearing footsteps behind me.
For the Towers to want this amulet, for Reznyk to hide it from them, it’s got to be powerful. More powerful than anything I’ve ever seen or touched. Tholious said I’d be able to feel it. And I did. Didn’t I?
I swallow hard. If anything is going to awaken my magical potential, it’s this.
My jaw clenches as I reach for the amulet. My fingers brush its polished surface. I feel— something? Maybe? A whisper of fear, like a dark cloud on the horizon. Is that what magic feels like?
I pull my hand back. Reznyk did something when I finally admitted what I really want, the bone-deep ache of my missing magical potential and the knowledge that would come with it. Who my parents were. Who I really am. He replied by taking my hand in his, then holding our hands out to the sun.
Is that what I’m missing? The sun? I glance down at the amulet, hidden in the shadows of my body, and then at the brilliant morning sun behind me.
Maybe magic responds to sunlight, just like the rest of us. That amulet’s been hidden in the shadows for the gods only know how long. Maybe it’s lost something, down there in the dirt. Maybe it needs light to spark magic. Hells, why not?
I grab the amulet with both hands, then come to my feet. Its smooth metal is cool and strangely heavy against my palms. I spin toward the sun, like I’m carrying the world’s weirdest divining rod. My gut pulls tight as fear again skitters over my skin, chased by restless excitement.
Is that magic? Please, gods, let that be magic. Let this be the key to unlocking the secrets the Towers are hiding about my family.
Sunlight spills over my hands and warms my fingers, but the metal of the amulet remains stubbornly cool and inert. I take a few steps through the garden, closer to the sun. Stop. Hold my breath.
Nothing. I walk to the gate, then through it, until I’m on the grass before the cabin, my arms outstretched, the amulet winking in the light of the rising sun. Blood throbs through my hands; my arms ache with the effort of holding it. My throat feels tight, like there’s a rope wrapped around my neck. There’s a soft, creaking sound from behind me, something that rises over the usual morning chatter of birds. A whisper of wind dances over the back of my neck.
Is that magic? Is any of this, anywhere, magical?
“You found what you were looking for.”
I jump. The voice is so deep that I almost don’t recognize it. I spin, my arms trembling, the amulet clutched against my chest.
Reznyk stands in the doorway, rage heavy on his brow. And it is Reznyk, even though it takes my mind a moment to decide. It’s his face, his clothes, his tall, lean body.
But I’ve never seen him with that expression on his face. Everything about him is suddenly hard, from his obsidian eyes to the way his lips pull back over his teeth.
“Reznyk,” I gasp. My heart tries to leap out of my chest as he stalks toward me. “I was?—”
“You were good,” he purrs, his voice soft and low and more threatening than a rumble of thunder. “Better than I imagined anyone from the Towers could be.”
“What?”
My brain feels like it’s stumbling, trying to keep up. No one in the Towers has ever called me good. At anything.
“And you got what you wanted,” Reznyk continues as he paces closer to me. Gods above, his eyes are so cold. “I hope you’re proud.”
“Reznyk, I?—”
His hand flashes in the space between us, closing over my wrist. His fingers clutch the amulet in my hands. A pulse of heat flashes across my skin. I stare at him. His lips pull back in a snarl.
And then the air is forced from my lungs, and the world vanishes.