2. Astraea
Chapter two
Astraea
The words I've just said to Kyros cause my stomach to clench. The truth of them forces the pieces of my broken heart to sink into my stomach, leaving me nauseous. Whatever it was I thought we were building, it was on top of a mountain of lies. It makes me question each moment I have had with him.
“But I don’t get lost in dreams or hide from my nightmares, and neither should you. If you don’t want to be something you’re not, choose to be who you are.”
“Is that what you do? Do you never hide who you really are?” I ask him.
“Sometimes the choice is opposite; the decision to hide what we really are because maybe it’s the realm that is not ready for the truth.”
Every memory is now painted differently when I look back at them.
Was he warning me all along? And if he was, does that mean his feelings were real?
Even as I look over my shoulder and make brief contact with his deep and unreadable black eyes, I sense maybe there was at least some truth in it all.
I’m not sure whether that makes it hurt more or less.
I take a deep breath and grind my teeth, forcing myself to push away the thoughts of Kyros.
I do everything I can to focus on my surroundings and the uneven earth beneath my feet.
The unnatural feel of the twigs, leaves, and hard-packed dirt makes my steps unsure.
It’s nothing like the sandy, dry ground of Eathian, and as much as the unknown fills me with fear, I can’t help but also marvel at it as well.
When thunder rolls above the thick treetops, all three of us look up in unison. I don’t even realize I’ve stopped until a hand presses at my low back, urging me to keep going. The heat of his hand, even through the cloak, sends chills up my spine.
“We can’t risk stopping if we want to beat the storm.
” Kyros is quiet, and the warmth of his breath against my cheek as he dips his chin closer causes emotion to once again clog in my throat.
I turn toward him on instinct but quickly glance away with a nod at the answering rumble of thunder in the distance.
Clearing my throat, I watch my feet as they continue to carry me through the brush.
Every once in a while, I notice the man in front of me, Shayd, look back at us curiously.
His steely gray eyes shift through his disheveled sandy blonde hair, questioningly at Kyros, then linger on me.
He doesn’t say anything, just studies us intently.
Something about his scrutiny makes a sense of unease bloom in my chest. Although it is hard to be certain if this is the source of the uneasiness I’m feeling as I march forward into the unknown…
Or if it’s the absurdity of all that has happened between the lighting of the pyre in the dunes and now.
My life, which has been mapped out from the moment I became the princess of the stolen kingdom, has been irrevocably changed.
Something about the last twenty-four hours has solidified that.
Kyros said that there would be no more blood on my hands, but what about my father?
I think he would drown me in the blood of the kingdom.
Even if it was just to prove he could. I swallow the feeling as those thoughts rise in me, pushing them down as I instead focus on the present.
While we have walked, Shayd has ripped the bottom of his tunic into a long piece of fabric.
I watch as he pulls a vial of lavender-colored liquid from the satchel that bounces at his hip.
I wonder if it has magickal properties, just as the healing balm I have used before on my wounds did.
His eyes catch mine before the corner of his mouth tilts upward, and he shoots back whatever it is like a shot of liquor.
He uses the fabric to create a makeshift tourniquet and a brace for the stab wound at his shoulder.
It cradles his arm close to his chest, stabilizing it while we continue our trek.
Smart. He hasn’t complained of pain or even mentioned the wound since it happened.
I eye him curiously. Does he have magick too?
Clearly more people still have magick than we thought.
Or, I guess, more than I was ever allowed to see.
Perhaps my father knew that outside of Eathian there were plenty of magick users.
Maybe that’s why he never ventured from his castle.
It makes me wonder about what else the realm has to offer.
I never imagined I would make it this far from the palace. So much has changed.
I definitely never imagined I would stab a man.
I continue to allow my mind to wander. Replaying the Shula Morana.
Going over conversations I’ve had with Kyros and the others.
Everything that has transpired since I decided to take my life into my own hands.
So much good that has come of it. Although I am doing things I would have never fathomed before.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I let my gaze sweep out.
I don’t know where we are, much less where we are going.
I have no plan for what comes next, and though Kyros has lied to me more than he has told the truth; I know I can trust him to, at the very least, keep me alive while I figure out my next move.
I have to believe that Mavros and the others will keep protecting Colette.
I have to hope that they all made it out of that hell in the dunes.
We walk for what feels like hours, and the threatening storm has made the air around us heavier.
Every so often, the crack in the sky is so loud that it seems to shake the ground, and several times it makes me feel as though I might fall.
I managed to keep myself upright through our travels, but a few times Kyros has felt the need to give me support.
His steady hands quickly become my brace as another jolting crack rumbles through the sky and in turn, my body.
My gaze sweeps up, meeting eyes so deep I can’t tell where the pupil ends.
Eyes that seem to see more than just the world around us.
Eyes that I would get lost in if only they didn't reflect the pain I feel in my heart.
I swallow down that emotion as I reclaim my balance and once again look ahead.
Shayd begins to slow, giving Kyros and me time to catch up to him.
The trees here seem much thicker than they have through the journey thus far; he reaches his good hand into the thick leaves and branches.
This part of the forest seems to create a wall of brush that blocks the path, if you can even call it that.
As he pulls the plant life back like a curtain, he steps aside so I can see through the passage he’s created.
“Keep to the shadows. I have a feeling you know how to do that. Don’t you, love?
” Shayd whispers, nodding toward the hole in the bramble of branches.
Warily, I meet his gaze and ignore the way his words just sent a chill down my spine.
I’m sure he knows of Kyros’ magick, and he is just trying to make me squirm, similar to what Mavros does.
However, it doesn't quite come across the same… Swallowing, I don’t acknowledge his words before I duck low and try to make myself as small as I can so the branches don’t snag on my cloak or hair.
When I finally trudge through to the other side, my eyes widen, and I need a moment to adjust to the impossibility of what I’m seeing.
The hill we’ve stopped at the top of overlooks a deep crevice in the earth.
The darkness pooling in the center creates a shroud of shadow where the moon seems to leave the city untouched.
In the far distance, a castle unlike anything I have ever seen stands sentinel on the top of a much larger mountainside.
Its dark spires reach into the night sky like the talons of a bird of prey swooping in for its kill.
Its massive form is highlighted by the ambient filtered glow of the moon behind a veil of clouds.
Trees line the bowl-like city; a wall along the perimeter and mountains paint the already dark skyline into sharp points.
The city itself is dimly lit with twinkling flames from candles and hearths within the huddled and stacked dwellings.
My lips part as my eyes commit the beauty of it to memory.
“Dreadful splendor, isn’t it?” Shayd asks as he comes to a stop at my side.
I look up to see the coming storm reflecting in his gray eyes.
The sandy color of his hair frames his carved jaw and dark, angled brows.
It's the first time I’ve really given myself permission to really see the stranger; he’s undeniably handsome.
He rubs his chin as he notices my staring and the facial hair there that is similar to Kyros’.
It’s short and kept close to his face, and the intensity of his presence is just like Kyros, but that is where their similarities end.
The teasing smirk that takes over his features screams Mavros.
It’s clear that these men have been in each other's lives for a long time just by noticing the mannerisms they share.
That fact should set me at ease, as the brothers do…
But it doesn’t. I turn my eyes away from him before I whisper in response.
“I expected the castle in Diemos to be nothing less than beautiful, but this dark, haunting beauty is nothing like I imagined it would be.”