10. Astraea
Chapter ten
Astraea
Kyros leads the horse forward, though his eyes seem intent to drift back to me at every opportunity, even when continually scanning our surroundings for the danger that surely lurks in the shadows.
Further away from the deteriorating borderland that he claims acts as a natural defense, the scent from the decay is already beginning to clear.
I can feel his eyes on me, but the forest we find ourselves in now is incredible, and I can’t peel my eyes away.
So many giant twisted branches reach for each other, creating a webbing of an enchanted-looking ceiling of leaves.
They span out farther than the eye can see.
Frolicking animals, buzzing and chirping insects, and glittering fragments of sun paint a scene that can only be called a work of art.
I don’t realize we have stopped until Kyros dismounts and offers me a hand.
I take it, surprising us both. The heat of my hand entering his makes my palm tingle.
As soon as I am on my feet, I clear my throat.
Removing my hand from his, I straighten my tunic and cloak, suddenly very aware of the fact that I can sense his gaze lingering on me.
I make every point not to look up into his eyes.
I know that if I do, it will lead to one of two things, neither of which I can deal with right now.
Instead, I turn away. Giving my back to Kyros, I keep my eyes on the magickal entrancement that the Creshian Forest seems to radiate.
“This is a good spot to rest the horse. We still have hours yet before we reach the dweller’s cabin.
I’m going to refill the water. Stay close,” Kyros says from behind me.
I don’t respond, though I sense he watches me a moment longer before I hear his boots crunching on the sticks and leaves that make up the forest floor.
I close my eyes and let my breath out of my nose in a heavy sigh.
I hate this feeling. It's his fault that these forbearing emotions are building. I’ve been inundated with truths and revelations. Each one with their own feelings tied to them that we still have yet to discuss.
A small chittering animal runs past, breaking me from my thoughts.
I smile down at it as it stops just a few paces from my feet.
With curious eyes, it looks up before scurrying away in the opposite direction.
I push my fingers to my lips—to the smile that lifts my mouth up at the corners.
It feels wrong; a betrayal curving on my mouth into a lie—even if innocent—when I have no clue whether or not the others are even safe.
My mind begins to spiral to thoughts of terrible possibilities.
How could I possibly be smiling when Cole could be in danger or worse?
The brief happiness I felt over the forest and the little creature is quickly snuffed out by the anxiety that has been ever present and worsening since the night in the dunes.
Memories of that night flash before my subconscious, like a gate finally being opened. I know that eventually I’m going to have to think about it. I’m going to have to look closer at the details of that day, even talk about it with Kyros.
I don’t stray far. I’m smart enough to know that it wasn’t just Kyros being demanding when he told me to stay close.
Everywhere in the realm has its own dangers.
This forest, I’m sure, is no different; if anything, the feeling of magick makes it that much more dangerous.
Turning to face the ominous woods we just came from, eyes narrowing on the gruesome decay of a border in the distance.
A feeling of fear emerges within me as I take it in.
I watch the shadows there almost tremble like a mirage—the rippling glimmer in my vision that I am much more familiar with, but it’s entirely different here rather than in the desert.
I swallow as trepidation rolls over my spine, sending a chill across my skin.
The trees here remind me so much of the one on the palace grounds.
The same one I had climbed when I was young, knobby and twisted, wider than they are tall, and with leaves that fan out like a ceiling of color.
As soon as I think of it, the same regret from smiling just a moment ago sinks back in.
I don’t have many happy memories from my childhood, but every one that I do recall involved Colette.
A pang of guilt strikes me right in the chest. I swallow hard as the same memory serves as a reminder that it is also tainted by the punishments I received.
It was around the time I had climbed that tree when my father switched course, and the punishments he served became physical.
Absent-mindedly, I run my hand up my arm, feeling for the marks left behind by the switch my father used.
There are no scars there, though. Those punishments didn’t come until I was older.
When I had begun to realize there was more this world might be able to offer me.
When I should have known better. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and steering my thoughts away from that time.
When I turn back toward where Kyros is, I pause.
He sits on one of the low, wide, twisted roots that jut up from the ground and curve toward the water.
From this angle I can only make out half of his face.
A deep groove is etched into his forehead, pulling his lips down at the corners into a frown.
He rests his elbows on his knees, his hands palms up between them.
With his head dipped, his eyes burrow into the center of his empty hands with a sort of emotion I have never seen on his face before.
It’s not at all a look I am unfamiliar with, though.
I have seen something similar so many times.
Only, it was when I was looking at my own reflection.
Broken.
Pulling my lip between my teeth, I watch as he opens and closes one hand and then the other.
He pulls the sleeve of his tunic back. One hand grips his forearm where the twisting dark tattoos are, but where I have seen them swirling and moving before, they are now still.
It’s his magick. Is that what has him looking so broken?
He clenches both fists on his knees; his face morphs into a version he wears often as anger fills his gaze.
He looks up and out through the trees in front of him.
I know this is meant to be a private moment for him, but I find myself gravitating toward him anyway.
I probably shouldn’t interrupt, but the desire to comfort him makes it nearly impossible not to get closer.
My hand hovers over his shoulder. I am about to lay it down in a comforting gesture, but I halt when he lets out a sigh.
My hand snaps back to my chest, and I restrain it back with the other.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says without turning toward me, but I hear the defeat in his tone.
“I just used a lot more than I am used to. I’m sure it’s just going to take time to replenish.
" His hand flexes and balls back into a tight fist. Something about the way he says it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself that what he says is true and not just me.
“I didn’t mean to invade your privacy,” I say solemnly. He turns to face me fully, and his eyes stab into me with the intensity of twin daggers, black and gleaming just as the ones he gifted me. My throat dries, and it’s suddenly very hard to swallow.
“This is only going to get harder for me, but I hope you can see that I am trying.” His eyes bounce between mine, then drop to my lips for only a second before he notices the step I have taken back.
His gaze falls completely, and his jaw sets before he stands.
He holds the water bladder out to me, and I take it with gratitude, but before I can say anything at all, he turns and strides away.
There is so much still unknown between Kyros and me, but even though I felt like he was beginning to open up, he has kept more than he has been willing to share.
As angry as I am with him, his words are confirmation of what I’ve only just come to realize.
My eyes trail in his wake and finally settle on his back, where he stands with the horse.
He pays it affection and feeds it fruit from the satchel on his flank, like he tends to do whenever around the animals.
There is more to this man than he lets most people see.
But I can see it in the way he is with his horses.
In the way he carries himself into a room, it’s like his shoulders are those that carry the weight of everything that keeps his people, his family, safe and well.
That burden has only become heavier with my added weight.
That’s what he’s really saying. Because I feel it now.
That heat I have always felt around him.
It's more than desire, more than lust, and a burning need as a woman to a man.
Kyros Kahzal is my twin flame.
I need to know for sure. I need him to confirm what I think I already know. I need to know what that truly means because I only have what I have been told or heard in passing. If he is my twin flame…
“Kyros?” I beckon, hesitantly. He turns around, and his eyes instantly find mine.
The air is sucked from my lungs, and as though he senses my tumultuous thoughts, he sighs.
Dropping his head, he slowly closes the distance between us.
Approaching me like I am a wounded animal, and I guess, in a sense, I am just that.
I can’t even force myself to ask the question burning on my tongue.
“You know.” He says, and I blink as he lifts my chin with a hooked finger.
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, and my eyelashes flutter as I try to keep my tears from falling.
It’s one thing to assume, but it’s another thing entirely to have it confirmed.
Fear suddenly slams into me like the clash of two swords.