57. Reznyk
Chapter 57
Reznyk
THE ONE
W herever I am, it’s warm.
I hold my breath and listen before opening my eyes. The dull murmur of distant conversation washes over me. It could almost be the clatter of a river tumbling over stones, if it wasn’t for the occasional clink of glass or barking laugh. Am I in a pub?
My eyes open, and I take in the room around me. A low fire flickers on the hearth. There’s a tray on a table with a bit of bread, a wine bottle, and two empty glasses. The windows along the far wall glow with dull gray light that makes me think the day is coming to a close. Gods, I must have been asleep all day.
I roll over in the empty bed. Kira was here with me, wasn’t she? My memory is like fog, thin and impossible to grasp. I remember Kira standing against the wall of this room, don’t I? But perhaps that was a dream.
I sit up, then let my head fall to my hands. My body aches, and my stomach voices its discontent with a long, slow rumble. My cloak hangs by the door, still and solemn and utterly alone. Wasn’t there another cloak there? I come to my feet, then chew the bit of bread slowly as I turn over my thin scraps of memory, prodding each one until they fall apart in my hands.
Fine. I’m not going to figure it out here.
I hesitate before the door and run my fingers over the empty hook where I might have imagined I saw Kira’s cloak. Magic purrs softly inside my body. It’s weak and distant, just like it was the first time I used it to rip Kira out of one place and bring her to another, but it’s still a part of me, for whatever inscrutable reason.
The door leads to a narrow hallway. I wait in the dark hall as my heart thuds inside my chest, listening to what sounds like ordinary pub chatter drift in from the other end. There’s no sign of the one voice I want to hear. Disappointment burns low in my gut. Did she leave already? Have I been out that long?
Or perhaps she didn’t want to stay. I wasn’t kind to her when we last parted in the Daggers. What reason would she have to linger? For that matter, what reason did she have to free me from the nightmare steel chains in the first place?
I swallow hard, then leave the hallway and enter the pub. A few heads raise at my sudden appearance, then just as quickly drop back into their varied conversations. It’s a small pub, with a polished wooden bar at one end and a fire crackling on the hearth at the other. The clientele look a bit scruffy; this doesn’t appear to be the kind of place Lady Lenore or anyone from the Towers would visit. Thank the gods.
I run my eyes over the crowd. There are several older men playing cards, two women by the door deep in conversation, and a woman behind the bar. There’s a young boy sitting at one of the tables frowning down at a scrap of paper. Two people stand by the pub’s door, deep in whispered conversation. The man is tall, with dark hair and a face so delicate it’s almost out of place.
Zayne. And next to him, with a cloak pulled up over her fiery hair and a scowl on her face, is Kira.
I can’t breathe. Kira is dressed for traveling with a bag slung over her shoulder, and she’s standing beside the door, arguing in hushed, low whispers with Zayne.
She’s leaving. Without saying anything to me.
Magic flickers dully beneath my skin. My heart chokes, coughs, and decides to keep on beating. Kira shakes her head. She frowns, turns away from Zayne, and then sees me. Her back stiffens. A strange expression flashes across her features. Is it fear? Gods, have I given her reason to fear me?
She shoves the front door with her shoulder. It’s halfway open by the time I reach her. Swirls of snow dance across the threshold, and I can’t stop thinking about all the times I imagined Kira in my cabin, sitting at a window while the snow fell outside.
“Kira,” I say. “Wait.”
My voice sounds like a rusty hinge. Kira freezes. The door closes, leaving her inside. She doesn’t quite turn to me, not exactly, but her eyes trace a path across my chest before settling back on Zayne.
I feel like I’m trying to breathe through mud. There are so many things I have to say to this woman, and I don’t want any of them to be witnessed by an entire room full of people I don’t know. Zayne breaks the silence.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Zayne says as he claps me on the shoulder.
“Thanks,” I stammer.
Kira’s hand is still wrapped around the door handle.
“Kira,” I say, in a voice that’s almost a whisper. “You left something in the room.”
Her eyes widen, then close in a heavy scowl. She turns away from the door and sweeps through the room, vanishing down the hallway.
“Good luck with that,” Zayne mutters.
For one desperate moment, I actually consider asking Zayne for advice. But I come to my senses and turn back to him with my arms crossed over my chest. A suspicion I’ve had since Matius and Tholious turned up on my doorstep resurfaces.
“You broke her ankle,” I say.
Zayne doesn’t deny it, which is answer enough.
“You piece of shit,” I hiss. “I should break yours.”
“I’d like to see you try, magic man,” Zayne replies.
I stare at him. Gods, it’s been a long time since I’ve talked to someone who’s not afraid of me. I’d almost forgotten what it was like. I rub my hand across my mouth to destroy the curve of my lips before it can become a smile.
“You’re an asshole,” I announce.
“You’re just now figuring that out?” Zayne replies, with a grin. “How’s Matius? Did they make it to you?”
“They both did,” I answer. “They’re safe. They’re together.”
“Well, that’s disgustingly heartwarming,” Zayne replies. He runs his hand over the back of his neck, then looks down the hallway once more. “You know, if it makes you feel any better, she’s been talking about leaving all day. But that was the first time she actually opened the door.”
I stare at the hallway, wondering if that does, in fact, make me feel any better.
“But,” Zayne continues, “I don’t think she’s going to send you an invitation, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”
“Right,” I say, sucking in a breath. “Right.”
I cross the room, which feels much larger going in this direction. The hallway is dark and silent, and the door to the room with the windows and the wide bed is closed. By the time I reach it, I have the first, pathetic fragments of a plan.
I pull the door open. Kira stands in the middle of the room, her arms crossed over her chest, the low firelight licking the curves of her body as she scowls at me.
“I didn’t forget anything,” she snaps.
I smile at her. Her eyes widen as I step forward, moving so close that I can almost smell her.
“You forgot to say goodbye,” I say.
Kira steps back. Her eyes drop, and she turns toward the door.
“Wait,” I say.
She glances at me, raising an eyebrow. I turn away from her, pick up the wine bottle, and pull my knife from my belt. The cork comes free with a soft pop. The scent of red wine swirls around the room, mixing with wood smoke.
“Before you go,” I say, reaching for one of the two glasses.
I fill it, then hold it out to her. She makes no move to take it. I shrug, set it on the table, then fill the second glass.
“One last round?” I ask.
“You’re kidding me.”
“Not at all.”
“Questions?” she asks.
“Questions,” I answer. “Do you want to go first?”
She makes a sound that’s part laugh and part frustrated bark, then waves her hand in the air between us like she’s trying to swat down my stupid idea.
“I don’t have any questions,” she snaps.
“Very well,” I say. “I’ll go first.”
She frowns but doesn’t disagree. I bring the wineglass to my lips and take a sip. This wine is far better than it has any right to be, given the surroundings. I turn to Kira.
“Why did you free me?” I ask.
She makes that sound again, part laugh and part whimper of defeat, then sinks onto the chair opposite me and shakes her head.
“Right for the jugular,” she mutters.
I shrug. Kira grabs her wineglass and takes a massive gulp, clearly avoiding my question. I try to swallow my disappointment.
“I suppose that makes it your turn,” I say.
Kira shakes her head. “I don’t have any questions,” she says. “Really. It’s not like I’m going to want to know the wedding date.”
“Wedding date?” I reply.
She takes another drink from her wineglass, then frowns at the fire. She looks like she’s in pain, like just being in the same room with me is some kind of torture. My chest aches; I have no idea how to cross the gulf between us.
“Are you getting married?” I ask, as gently as I can.
“Gods, no,” she replies.
I try not to look as relieved as I feel. She shakes her head again as her teeth close over her lower lip. Wind rattles the windows behind me.
“I met Lenore,” she finally says. “That’s how I know she’s here. That she’s waiting for you.”
“Lenore Castinac?”
Kira nods. “She’s, um, lovely. I think you’re?—”
Something ripples across her face. For just a moment, Kira looks like she’s going to cry. Then she frowns, and the moment passes.
“You’ll be very happy together,” she says, in a way that makes happy together sound almost like a curse.
My mouth opens, but it takes me a moment to find the words. Something cracks in the fire, releasing a cloud of sparks. Wind throws snow against the windows behind me. It sounds like something scratching to get out.
“How did you meet Lenore?” I say, voicing one of the many, many questions swirling inside my skull.
“In the Daggers,” Kira replies.
“What?”
Kira crosses her arms back over her chest and meets my gaze. There’s something defiant about her expression, like she’s daring me to disagree with her.
“You went back to the Daggers?” I ask.
“Oh, you know, it’s such a lovely place,” she mutters. “I just wanted to have a little holiday there.”
Kira grabs her wineglass, drains it, and puts it back down. I refill it. My heart slams against the inside of my rib cage like it’s trying to escape. I take a long, slow sip of wine in the hopes that I can drown it.
“You saved Lenore’s life,” I say, as my mind slowly pieces the story together. How else would Lenore have made it back to Silver City?
Kira snorts. “I don’t think that’s how she would see it.”
“Of course not,” I say. “You went back to the Daggers alone?”
Kira shrugs, like traveling through the wilderness by herself is nothing. My throat feels tight; the room suddenly feels far too warm.
“Why?” I ask.
“I— I wanted to warn you,” she replies, in a voice so low it’s almost a whisper. “About the Towers. I figured I owed you that much.” She blinks, then wipes at her eyes. “But I was too late. By the time I made it past the hunting lodge, there was nothing left but carriage tracks. And, you know, Lady Lenore.”
“Gods,” I mutter. That black carriage must have gone right past Kira. If Fyrris had known?—
A shiver trembles down my back. I try to smother it with more wine. Kira glances up at me. Our eyes meet. Magic sings under my skin, and for a moment it almost slips free to dance in the air between us. Kira’s lips part.
Then she slams her hands down on the table, pushes her chair back, and jumps to her feet.
“Okay,” she stammers, her eyes darting toward the door. “Great. So, uh, good luck.”
Kira puts her hand on the door. Something cracks inside my chest.
“Wait,” I say, pushing back from the table. The room swims slightly when I come to my feet. “Where are you going?”
Kira shakes her head. Her eyes shine in the firelight.
“Lenore’s waiting for you,” she says, in a voice that’s almost angry.
“Why do you keep saying that?”
Kira blinks at me. “Because she’s The One.”
My breath catches in the back of my throat. I walk to Kira, then place my hand gently beside hers on the door.
“Kira,” I say. “Lenore doesn’t love me. She never loved me.”
Kira’s mouth opens. A tear traces a path down her cheek. I can’t stop myself. I raise my hand, press my fingers to her cheek, and catch it.
“But—” Kira says. “She was the trap.”
“That’s because Fyrris didn’t know,” I say. “Lenore loves her city and the Castinac family’s position. Even if she cared about me, she’d never marry me. A match like that would cost much more than she’d be willing to pay.”
I smile as I say it. Years ago, that truth hurt me far more than any of the injuries I’d received in my very colorful career. But now it’s just a fact, like snow in winter or the foolishness of youth.
“Do you remember what you told me your first night in the cabin?” I ask.
Kira’s breath hitches. She turns away.
“You said you didn’t think it was love,” I continue, “trying to win the whole world just to place it at her feet.”
“I don’t remember that,” Kira whispers.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” I continue. “Maybe I never loved Lenore. Because maybe love isn’t feeling like you need to prove yourself. Maybe it’s someone who feels like a friend. Or more than a friend. Maybe it’s someone who wants you to live, even when the world expects nothing but death.”
“Great,” Kira mutters under her breath. “That’s why you let the Towers take you in exchange for Lenore.”
Gods, I’m terrible at this. I remind myself to never try writing love poems.
“No,” I say.
I meet her eyes. Something flashes in the air between us, an older and wilder form of magic than what’s trapped inside my body. I let my fingers drop from her cheek to her chin.
“I let the Towers take me,” I whisper, “because I was afraid they would come for you.”