13. Astraea
Chapter thirteen
Astraea
Kyros gingerly cleaned my body, and we stayed in the bath, wrapped in each other's arms until we were nearly forced out from the cooling water. Neither of us say much as we dry, wrapping the towels around our naked bodies. We don’t say anything about what we just did.
Our eyes clash through the dimly lit and still somewhat steamy room.
The sadness on Kyros’ face causes that ache in my chest to bleed.
I swallow hard as he reaches for me. Pulling me into his arms, he cradles my face and lays a chaste kiss on my lips.
“I hope the divine knew what they were doing when they brought you to me.” He says softly as his thumb brushes across my cheek bone once before turning and walking out.
Everything about this man is confusing and contradicting, but I feel the same hope.
If they didn't, I fear that we are destined for destruction, and that is something I won't survive.
Once dressed in the simple cotton chemise from Kaeleith, I pause with my hand on the door handle.
I can still feel the heat in my cheeks from my release.
If there were more light in the bathing chamber, I would surely see the evidence of it still painted on my face.
With any luck, it will be just as dark in the bed chamber, and I won't have to hide myself from the man and the conversation that I know is waiting for me on the other side of this door.
As I pull it open, the hinges squeal and I wince.
My eyes find Kyros immediately in the dimly lit room.
He lies on one side of the bed, chest still bare, though he did pull on some loose linen pants.
They are slung low on his hips, and the tattoos that paint his body are still dormant.
His boots are discarded on the floor at the end of the large bed, and he has one arm slung across his stomach, as the other acts as a pillow beneath his head.
If I didn't know any better, I would think that he’s actually asleep.
Unease builds in my chest as I make my way around to the other side of the bed, even after what we just did. No, especially after what we just did.
I know we talked about needing to be in the same room while I slept, but we didn’t discuss what that might look like.
There is no settee in this room. Only a single high back chair at the desk in the corner, and he’s clearly already claimed where he will sleep.
I hesitate at the foot of the bed, weighing my options…
I could take the throw at the end of the mattress and sleep on the rug in front of the unlit hearth.
“Get in the bed, Shula.” He says without opening his eyes. My breathing stops all together as I unabashedly scan his body. He then props himself up on a pillow very much like I just imagined him, and my skin flames as I choke on my own saliva.
“I—are you sure?” I ask, that same unease creeping over me at what we just did and what he said before leaving me to dress.
His eyes intensely burrow into me, and he doesn’t answer with intelligible words.
Instead, he grunts and shakes his head, rolling onto his side as he lifts the blanket back.
I swallow, pausing only a moment before tucking myself in beside him.
We lay there in silence for a long moment until our breaths match in cadence.
“For what it's worth,” Kyros whispers after leaning over me and blowing out the last candle. “I'm sorry.” His hand rests on my hip, and as he glides it up my side and then back down my bare arm, I'm thankful for the dark room.
“I am too,” I admit, but it's barely audible, and I'm not sure he actually hears me. I pull the blanket up high under my chin, rolling so my back is to him. He keeps his arm wrapped around me, and the broken pieces of my heart are thankful for the support.
“Goodnight, Shula.” He says softly, his breath brushing the shell of my ear and the warmth of his body melding into my own.
I don't respond, but as I close my eyes a tear falls from the corner.
I can't tell if I am ashamed of what I’ve done or relieved that there's a chance it wasn't all just a lie.
My sleep covers me in crimson. Blood drains from my face as I scream and drips from my hands in a steady stream of death. The metallic taste of it coats my tongue and burns my throat, but my cries are not heard over the chaos that it imbues.
That's all there is.
Chaos.
Cries of pain.
Loss.
And Blood… so much blood, and then the darkness swallows everything.
I wake up gasping for air. My heart running away from me in my panic, I grasp for the sheets as I sit up.
My head immediately swims with the pain that pounds against my skull.
The drapes covering the windows are pulled mostly shut, but they are open enough to allow some of the day's light through the crack, letting me know that the sun has fully risen.
Pushing my sweat-soaked hair away from my face, I roll my stiff neck and look at the empty space beside me.
Nothing about the nightmare I just woke from was similar to that I’ve always been plagued by.
It was an exaggerated memory of what I just lived through.
A true night terror of my subconscious wreaking havoc on my mind.
I can't think of the latter as being an omen of what is to come. It can't be that.
I recall falling asleep in Kyros’ arms, but I must have been too exhausted to notice him leave this morning.
Rubbing the sleep away from my eyes, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and ground myself with my bare feet on the cool wood floors.
I close my eyes again when I notice the throb between my legs.
It was a mistake letting my body take control of me like that. My heart isn't ready to deal with this.
Folded on the desk, there is a stack of clothing and my blades holstered lying on top.
Clear directions from Kyros for me to get dressed and be ready to train.
The corner of my mouth ticks up slightly.
Even though I'm anxious about training with him, something about the thought is also thrilling.
I know I am never going to be a warrior princess, but at the very least I want to be able to protect myself and maybe those I love if it comes down to it.
As soon as I unfold the fabric, I know that this clothing must belong to Zinya.
The form-fitting leather and slim cotton trousers are made for fighting.
I dress quickly, shoving my feet into the boots that hug my calves and holstering my blades.
I can't look at my reflection right now.
I don't want to look myself in the eyes after what I allowed—what I encouraged to happen last night.
Instead, I quickly braid my hair into a pleat over my shoulder and toss it to my back.
With a sigh, I look at the room before I gather the courage to go and face Kyros in the daylight.
My stomach rumbles loudly as I open the door, and the scent of a feast wafts toward me from the kitchen. Not used to the heavier boots, my feet sound like thunder as I make my way down the hall, so when I emerge, both Kyros and Kaeleith are looking at me. The heat in my cheeks is instant.
“Good morning,” I look away from Kyros and greet Kaeleith.
“Aye, I’d say good mornin’ to you too, but the sun is about to set and supper is already on the table for you.” She says as she adds another place setting to the table. “I was thinking you were due to wake up any time now.” My brows furrow. Supper? I slept all day?
“It seemed like you needed the rest. We will start your training tomorrow. I’m sure you’re hungry.” Kyros says this, but his expression is as guarded as I feel. Right on cue, though, my stomach growls loudly, sending more heat to bloom in my cheeks.
Steam swirls from the bowl that Kaeleith sets down on the table, and it takes all the control I can muster not to just run to the table and dig into the offering.
Kaeleith sat at the head of the table, and like me, Kyros still stands.
He looks down at the food and watches the room, while Kaeleith just seems intent on eating the food she's prepared and watching Kyros and me through her milky stare.
When my eyes track up, finally meeting him, his expression softens a fraction before he relents whatever internal debate he was waging, and he walks around the table, pulling out the chair, presumably for me.
“Thank you,” I say, and he pushes the chair in as I take the seat.
This version of Kyros reminds me of our night at court.
That night, he stood up to my father, but first, we shared what I thought was a moment of understanding.
Kaeleith smiles kindly before gesturing to the modest yet somehow decadent spread.
My eyes catch on Kyros as he ignores the food now sitting between us, instead intent on watching me.
I've noticed how he's been doing that—always watching me.
I'm no stranger to being watched. As the Princess of Eathian, it was my daily life to have eyes on me in some manner, but no gaze has ever felt like his.
Cooked cabbage, peas, and root vegetables that are steamed, mashed, and seasoned sit beside meat smothered in gravy. My mouth waters with anticipation and my stomach growls in correlation. Kaeleith laughs at the audible rumble.
“Well, go on then. Feed that empty belly.” I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I pick up the fork and begin to eat.
Trying to keep my gaze away from Kyros. I don’t know what to do with his endearing side, especially when I still feel the sting of hurt from his string of half-truths and the warring emotions over whatever that was between us last night.
“This is delicious, as always, Kaeleith.” Kyros says, and I hum my agreement.
I realize now I’m too hungry to fill anything other than my mouth, much less the silence with small talk.
I get lost in the food. After some time, Kyros stands, helping Kaeleith clear the table as I finish the remnants that are left on my plate.
As I wipe my mouth on a napkin, Kyros reaches for my plate.
“I can take care of it.” I say, suddenly feeling even more awkward.
I don't give him the opportunity to say anything on the matter before I stand with my plate and make my way over to the wash bin.
I intend to wash the dish, but Kaeleith makes a tsking noise, takes the plate, and shoos me away.
Kyros chuckles from behind me, where he leans casually against the now cleared table.
“Is my trying to be helpful amusing to you?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. Kyros stifles a smile, shaking his head. His eyes trail my body as he closes the space between us and offers me his hand.
“Just another unexpected thing about you, that’s all.
” I look down at his hand and then back up to his nearly black eyes.
“Walk with me.” I look away, over my shoulder, where Kaeleith finishes washing up after dinner and hums to herself.
Though I do catch her eyes flicking this way every so often.
I lick my lips, pulling the bottom one between my teeth before placing my hand into Kyros’.
“I’m full of surprises.” I tease, but placing my hand in his is a thread of trust I hadn't planned on offering, and that has even surprised me. He guides me outside, where the temperature is beginning to plummet with the sun’s departure.
The sky above the cottage is painted with clouds, highlighted in coral against the darkening gray behind them.
I drop his hand, walking down the steps and into the field.
My lips part in awe as my head tilts back to take it all in.
The contrast of the green in the forest around us is stark and creates a stunning frame for the display.
Kyros presses a hand to the small of my back, and I jump, bringing my gaze back down to meet his.
I swallow and offer him a small smile as he gently guides me toward where the horse waits tied out to a tree.
As he turns away, I watch as he offers the animal a bucket of water I hadn't even noticed him getting.
He also brings out a sack of grain, tying it to the tree as well, before he begins brushing the beast.
“I was never allowed at the stables.” I unexpectedly blurt out after watching him for a while.
I let myself step closer, and he pauses when he realizes I’m close but doesn’t turn to face me.
“It wasn't somewhere that a princess needed to be.” I let the disdain I feel over the word drag on, as Kyros resumes his brushing of the animal's coat.
“I never got close enough to the horses, but I did sneak out of the palace from time to time and climb up into the rafters to watch the stable hands and guards in their nightly routine. It was better than being forced into a stuffy chamber alone.”
Kyros pivots, moving his body behind mine.
One hand brushes over the top of my right arm, skimming the exposed skin down to my hand.
Gripping my wrist, he turns my hand before slipping the brush into my palm.
Wordlessly, his fingers place mine where they need to be to hold the brush, and he guides it to the side of the horse's neck. I feel his breath tickle at the nape of my neck and the loose hair falling from my braid. Our eyes clash when I glance over my shoulder; wings flutter to life in my chest as we are lost in that moment. The horse shifts on its feet, chuffing as he urges me to do what I was never allowed. Together, we stroke the brush across the horse’s body.
I let the warmth of Kyros at my back and his hand on top of mine seep into me, and for that moment, as we tend to the horse, a sense of peace fills me.
I don't realize I have closed my eyes until I am turning in Kyros’ arms and looking up at his now shadowed face.
The sun may have disappeared, but I see the moon now reflected in his midnight eyes.
His hand cups my face, and I can see in the way that his jaw feathers that he is fighting the urge to say something.
So badly do I crave the words he refuses to speak.
I see them linger in his eyes, in the set of his lips.
His thumb rolls over my cheekbone, and I sink into the touch as his other hand threads into my hair.
He takes a deep breath, expressing a sound of longing that I feel just as deeply.
A line forms between his eyes before he lets his hand fall from my face.
The cold air rushes in and with it, forces the moment to dissipate between us.
“It's getting late.” He steps away, taking his warmth with him. I stand there frozen, watching as he puts things away and turns back toward the cabin. However, my heart is anything but, especially as he turns back to face me, reaching out and taking my hand in his. “Come on, Shula.”