4. Kyros
Chapter four
Kyros
Shayd leads me through the house he’s created a home in, to a lounge of sorts, and on our entrance, all heads turn in our direction.
With nothing more than a snap of his fingers, chairs screech across the dark, worn wood, and feet thump past us for a hasty exit.
I count twelve bodies in passing. Men and women, all with their eyes trained downward after seeing who it was that had returned.
Shayd has a reputation of his own here in Diemos; coupled with mine, you could taste the fear permeating the air.
“Is this where you’ve taken up residence these days?
” I ask as I walk past him and sink into one of the armchairs facing the center of the room.
“No more terrorizing the castle with your presence?” I continue as I look around.
He smiles slightly as he moves one of the chairs and urges me to sit across from him.
When we both sit, he arches his back, rolling his shoulders to stretch at the wound there before he reaches up and unties the bind.
“You brought the false Princess of Eathian… here.” He states, brows furrowing, as his eyes lock with mine.
When I say nothing right away, he shakes his head as he continues to unwind the fabric at the wound Astraea created, all the while watching me through that narrowed gaze.
I know it’s not really a question, but I see the ones he wants to ask milling about in his features.
Shayd has always been one to get right to the meat of things.
The present situation I know will be no different.
“A lot has happened since I left on the mission for Phaedra.” I say, and one brow pops up, pulling his face into a scrutinizing look as he glances away with a hard-pressed smile.
“Clearly,” is his only retort before he scoffs and tosses the bloodied fabric into the lit hearth to his right, causing the fire to flare.
He pulls a tincture out of the bag at his feet.
Dipping his fingers into the can, I watch as he scoops a measure of the ointment and begins rubbing it over the deep laceration in his shoulder with a quiet hiss.
“I’ll only be staying for the day. We’ll be leaving again when the sun sets.” I start to explain, but he interrupts me as he drops the tincture to his side and leans back in his chair with a deep sigh of relief. Once settled, his head half tilts as he eyes me in a relaxed sort of speculation.
“I heard what you called her.” Shayd says, watching for my reaction.
He waits for me to defend, reflect, or respond with anything telling…
I know what he’s doing because I have done it so many times myself.
It’s what we have all been trained to do with a target when we’re hunting for information without force. I huff out a breath and shake my head.
“I didn’t try to keep it from you. You know you are like family to me, just as Mavros and the others are.
I have nothing to hide.” The truth is, Shayd is the closest thing to either a long-lost uncle or older brother to both Mavros and me.
He knows what he means to us, even to Zinya and Tarin.
He has been one of the only male influences guiding us to becoming the men we are today.
Even if my father—my adoptive father—despised him.
He always said, ‘Something about that one is off,’ whenever Shayd came around.
Likely his flippant demeanor. Regardless of his feelings, he let Shayd teach us about our magick and fighting.
Shayd has been the one who has challenged us to become better with both. More than almost anyone else.
“Speaking of brothers, where is Mavros?” He asks, and at that I bristle.
Even I can’t believe I left him in the dunes—on a battlefield no less.
That is what Phaedra and Connard created there at the Shula Morana.
They drenched the dunes in blood. On the same night we celebrate the lives we’ve lost, they caused even more carnage among the people they pretend to lead.
The lives of our kingdoms mean so little to them that they slaughter over speaking.
Every time. Phaedra is no better than the monster who killed my parents and stole the kingdom that was meant to be mine.
My eyes drift back to Shayd, and I wonder if my new feelings toward Queen Phaedra would cause a rift between the man in front of me.
“You never gave me a straight answer back in the woods.” He murmurs, rolling out his neck, and my jaw clenches as I recall his questioning.
Shayd is someone I trust. I trust him just as I would Zinya.
I force myself to remember that he and I are nearly equal in every aspect.
He’s not Phaedra. It’s why I finally sigh, and I give him the truth.
“Because I don’t know where he is.” I admit after a noticeably long moment of inner turmoil.
The fact of the matter is that this has been eating at me ever since Astraea and I landed on the other side of the portal.
If I could have taken every one of them through it, I would have.
I know now that if I had tried to bring them, I never would have been able to fight closing that portal.
That alone used far too much of my power.
We have always been taught to conserve the magick we hold in our veins.
It’s not limitless. Use it wisely, or we will find ourselves drained.
This possibility is the reason I have always encouraged my inner circle to train harder than anyone else in combat without relying on magick.
I never would have thought I would ever see that day. My fist clenches in my lap.
Regardless, magick isn’t as widely used as it once was anyway.
Many people in Diemos have the knowledge of how to access it because of the queen, but those in Eathian?
The elders of the Neer who did have the knowledge have been killed off by the tyrant who sits on the throne.
It is up to the younger generation now to learn both what it means to have the responsibility and how to harness what is offered to us by the gods.
“There was a battle of sorts at the dunes. An ambush, really. Just after the lighting of the pyre for the Shula Morana celebration. We got separated, and I had to get—the princess—away.” I say, my jaw creaking as I grind that admission through my teeth.
“Shula is what you called her.” He prods while narrowing his eyes on me. He waits for me to correct him, but I won’t.
“She—yes. My Shula Morana, Astraea Casimir.” I relent.
“Your death flame? Damn, that’s dark. Even for you.
” He half laughs as he splays his arms out wide along the back of the settee, shaking his head in disbelief.
There’s something else that flashes across his stone-gray eyes.
It’s brief, but I don’t get the chance to decipher it, as he stretches the muscles along his arm and chest with a bit of a groan, more annoyance than pain.
The healing balm is already pulling together the skin and healing him from the inside out.
“Does she know that you are twin flames and you have given her such a disturbing nickname?”
“Fuck off, Shayd.” I grunt as I stand and begin pacing in the space between us.
He laughs before poking his cheek with his tongue, watching me drag my hands through my hair and releasing it from its bind.
I let it fall to my shoulders with frustration.
But the truth is, I don’t know if she realizes we are twin flames.
I don’t even know if she knows anything about bonds or really anything about the customs of my people.
I doubt her father included anything as such in her teachings. Why would he?
The name “Shula” means more than just a word in the name of a ceremony.
The Shula Morana itself means everything to me.
Even if I didn’t attend the parties and market over the years, I was always at the lighting of the pyre.
However, this was the only year I was prepared to light the pyre myself.
My doing so meant that I was ready to reclaim my birthright.
It’s what our people have been waiting for: a signal to the Neer that the time has come to bring the death flame to those who have wronged us.
The Shula Morana serves as a reminder of the resilience I must maintain.
But it’s also a symbol of the divine fire of the gods, which provides the guiding light for our lost souls, and that’s exactly what I saw when I laid eyes on her.
I knew even before I was willing to admit it.
I was just a moth—the lost soul—and she was the flame I was ensnared by.
It’s why she will always be Shula to me. He doesn’t have to understand that.
“Alright, Ky… The false Princess and the true King are twin flames. Clearly that means—”
“She is what we were looking for. I finished the fucking job Phaedra set us out on. I found the relic. It’s… well, it’s just not what we thought it was going to be.” My teeth grind in my mouth as I interrupt him in an uncharacteristic outburst, and his brows shoot to his hairline.
“You didn’t answer my question from before…” He levels me with a stare, and his head dips. “Does she know?”