11. Kyros
Chapter eleven
Kyros
Astraea is not one to hide her emotions well, though she does try.
To some, she may even succeed, but not with me.
Even when I only knew her for a short time, I could read her tells.
But what I am starting to sense now is more…
More than just a feeling. It’s that now that I know we are connected on a soul level, that I have accepted and claimed her…
It’s as though now I have a direct line to her, and I know that she knows.
I know she feels the growing flame, the bond we share.
She only needs to acknowledge it. Claim me in return.
She likely doesn’t know much about the bonds of souls.
Her father would never allow her to learn of them.
I only know anything about them because I was interested in learning more about the Creshian ravens and their bonds.
Connard would have had to accept the magick in which the bonds are carried...
But since he is a man who kills for just sympathizing with its users, there is no chance in Zameil he would.
Leading the horse, I make sure to keep an eye on her and the surrounding trees.
I told her she was safe, but that doesn't mean the dangers are not there; it simply was a promise to protect her when the inevitable happens.
We are in no way safe as we make our way through this forest, especially without the comfort of knowing I could reach for my magick.
I try not to be distracted by her, but more often than not, I feel my gaze gravitating back in her direction.
Watching her experience the world is like a drug.
I want to take her everywhere. Show her everything this realm has to offer, while I get to watch the utter magick shine in her eyes.
Even as she was looking at the decay that marks the border of the Creshian Forest, underlined with disgust, sure, but the otherworldly bewilderment that sparkles in those scorpion-grass eyes?
That will be forever imprinted in my mind.
Even if she never looks at me like that again.
The creek was only a few minutes past the border, but the scenery is entirely different here.
After walking for a long while, we begin to slow our pace.
It’s been several times now that I’ve noticed her footsteps faltering.
She’s not used to a strenuous journey. I can’t fault her for being weak in that sense.
She was sheltered and abused by the one who should have been fostering her strength—encouraging her to be all that she could.
Instead, she is only just now realizing she is resilient in a different way because of her mistreatment.
I love seeing the change that being away from the castle is instilling in her.
“The trail from here gets harder to navigate. I think it’s best we take to the saddle.
” I say before drinking from the water bladder and then offering it out to her as she allows me to come to a stop at her side.
The trail does get harder here, but I don’t think it's something we couldn’t handle trekking under normal circumstances.
However, Astraea isn’t in any condition to keep going on foot.
She is clearly exhausted, and she needs to rest. The problem is, pointing that fact out will likely just cause her to fight me again. Not that I wouldn’t relish in it.
She puts the cork back into the bladder before returning it and looking to the saddle.
I offer my hand, and to my surprise, she takes it and accepts my offer to help her without argument.
Once in the saddle, she straightens her tunic and cloak before looking at me like she wants to say something and thinks better of it.
She resigns to a sad purse of her lips and nods her silent thanks before I hurl myself in behind her.
I try to respect her space, but there is only so much distance one can give on the back of a single horse. She fits so perfectly in my lap, and as the horse begins its ascent up the small hill, my hand, with nowhere else to go, settles lightly at her hip.
With only a small glance over her shoulder at the placement, she says nothing before allowing her eyes to wander around the brightened forest with rapt interest. The afternoon sun allows rays of light to shine through the leaves of the trees’ canopy.
I remember the first time I had come to the Creshian Forest. I had a similar reaction to seeing the amazing twisted, knobby-branched trees.
Especially for those of us who were born to the desert.
The greenery here truly radiates magick, but even if you didn’t know that, the vision itself would be magickal enough.
I can see that again through her eyes right now.
Kaeleith’s cottage isn’t much further from here.
Looking down at my trembling hands and the pushed-back sleeves of my tunic and the motionless marks on my skin.
I can’t stop myself from staring at the constant reminder of my vulnerability, and my jaw aches as I continue to clench my teeth.
The very weakness I always warned my team of.
We trained our bodies hard to be able to fight when our magick was not available, but I never actually thought that day would come.
Never truly imagined that my magick would evade me or I would be separated from my brethren.
I fist my hand around the horse's lead before letting out a long sigh and returning my gaze forward.
I worry what this might mean for Mavros. Our magick has always been linked, and if I don’t have access to mine… What happened on the battlefield after I went through the portal?
Hours of near-silent tension between me and Astraea filled the time on our journey, but we’ve finally arrived at the dweller’s cabin.
The sun is fully in front of us now, though it only hints of the evening's golden glow. Its rays sneak through the thick forest, showing spotlights of color before opening up to the clearing that the cottage sits in. The dweller’s home remains just as it always was: covered in vines, moss, and an array of colorful flowers surrounding the place.
Even though the midday warmth is starting to bleed into the usually cool forest, the dweller’s chimney still billows white smoke, as she likely cooks something over an open flame inside.
The scent of spices unique to this area wafts and churns through the air.
This place has always been magickal, but today I am experiencing it through new eyes.
Astraea’s body relaxes as she takes in the mystic sanctuary.
Seeing her wonder takes me back to the first time I visited this place.
I never would have imagined, as that broken boy so many years ago, that I would be returning here with the very person I thought was the enemy.
I let my gaze trail her soft features. My heart slows, thumping against the cage of my chest. She was never the enemy.
She was in need of saving just as much as I was.
“Is this it?” She asks quietly as I dismount and help her down, too. Her eyes are wide with wonder, a smile threatening to pull the corners of her mouth up into a smile as she takes it all in. I watch her instead of looking at the view ahead of us. “It—is so beautiful.”
Divine, if she only knew what I saw.
“Beauty unmatched,” I say, never removing my eyes from her. Her long dark hair is unkempt and unruly. She has dirt-covered boots and pants, and sweat glistens across her forehead, but she is glowing as everything about her brightens with wonderment.
“I was wondering when you might arrive.” Finally casting my eyes elsewhere, I see Kaeleith rounding the corner from where her garden is.
She smiles broadly as she sets down a large wicker basket and holds her arms out wide.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come help an old woman carry in the ingredients for supper?” Her voice carries across the field, and when I look back at Astraea, I see the smile she tries to hide before I reach down and take her hand.
She allows me to guide her down the slight hill, holding the lead in one and her hand in the other.
Before we reach where Kaeleith waits, I tie the horse we borrowed to a nearby tree and allow him to graze on the wild grasses and flowers along the border of the property.
Kaeleith sighs impatiently as I also remove the saddle and bags from the horse’s flanks.
I roughly sling one over my shoulder and fist the other in my hand as I scowl at the ground, but when I turn again, Astraea is there waiting.
She chews on her lip, and I cup her face with one hand, hoping my expression softens with the touch as I try to tell her everything is ok, but she steps out of my reach.
My jaw feathers as I clench my teeth. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Kaeleith’s lips curl up at the corners, as though she saw the entire interaction.
“Kaeleith, I brought someone here to meet you,” I say, without looking away from the woman in front of me.
Astraea looks confused for a moment, looking from me and then to the dweller.
She swallows hard with her chin raised slightly as we close the distance, and she offers her hand out in greeting.
When she notices Kaeleith’s glazed white eyes, her hand snaps back to her chest, and she cradles it there.
Her cheeks brighten to a deep rose, and Kaeleith only smiles wider.