30. Kyros #2
Before passing me, Ruaan stops, tilting his head and narrowing his hazel eyes.
The man who usually doesn’t shut up has been quiet ever since we arrived here in Aithne, and it is a fact that has not gone unnoticed by me.
And surprisingly enough, I find I’m curious about his thoughts on what has become of the town.
He continues to stand there like that, silent for a moment, before coming to a decision and giving me a determined nod.
It’s a silent understanding between the two of us.
Including him in this conversation with my trusted men is a gesture of credence and something I don’t take lightly—which he undoubtedly realizes.
He proved that there is some good within him when he helped save that boy today. Not all men would have.
As we walk through the city that most of us once called home for a time, my heart pounds against my ribs.
Every fire, every destroyed building, and just the stench of death and ash clogs my throat with the need for vengeance.
The vicious cruelty they rained down on this town… on these people… it is abhorrent.
We walk in silence until we finally come to a stop at the stables. My face falls and my thundering heart all but stops when I see it’s burned to the ground. Not a stall left in sight. Viltarin notices where my eyes linger, and he shakes his head.
“Kohl and Eidola survived the fire.” Viltarin says, and relief floods my veins like cool water. “Zinya took Eidola to hunt down Mavros.” He continues as he rubs the back of his neck, looking back toward the cabin we just left.
“Kohl is injured, but he lives. He’s in a smaller barn on the other side of the house we were just at.
” Rowan finishes for him. A long sigh escapes me as I scrape a palm down my sweat and dirt-caked face, making a mental note to go visit my horse as soon as the moment presents itself.
With my other hand I pull the tendrils of hair that have fallen away from my eyes and rip the tie from the base of my skull.
My hair falls forward, cloaking my face as I look down to see another tremor in my hand.
I shove it into my pocket before looking back at the burned barn.
“Thank you for caring for him.” I say quietly, my mind spiraling inward to the memories tied to the horse.
Kohl is one of the last things I have of my mother’s.
One of the few things that serves as a reminder of the strength of the woman that died for her sons.
As I sit with my thoughts, the further I’m reminded of the way my mother showed strength, in many ways just like Astraea has in her life.
Just like my twin flame, my mother was not meant to be Queen of Eathian.
Although my parents' story was far from a war putting her on the throne, the divine knew she was worthy, and the people accepted her. Not for her bloodline, but for the strength she brought to the kingdom and the king she fell in love with. The Creshian Raven that Phaedra keeps locked away; that was also once hers. Zuri arrived the day of my mother’s coronation.
A sign from the divine for the blessed union of the new King and Queen.
Phaedra hopes that she can bond with the magickal bird to show her worth.
It will never happen. Zuri has despised her since the moment she trapped her in her golden cage.
Phaedra separated her from Drabek, purposely taunting the bird with the pain of Drabek’s frequent visits.
I never understood her obsession. I should have seen her conniving ways before. I should have known.
Flames lick the skyline, still burning what is left of the manor.
The last of my memories with the family who adopted my brother and me linger in my mind.
Raised us and taught us what Phaedra failed to.
Compassion and purpose, kindness and loyalty—they taught us what it meant to receive love and give it in return.
Unfortunately for Phaedra, it was she who ensured that I was taught to be a ruthless killer.
The difference now is that my blade will be aimed at those who are actually my enemies.
I’ve always felt that the true reason for everything I’ve done in my life was to be able to protect those that I love more than anything in this shit world.
It’s time that Phaedra understands the risk she took when creating a weapon that has been honed into something so deadly.
It can always be wielded against its creator.
Too many people, my family included, have been targeted by her malicious poison.
And I see now that she is an evil that actually does need to be eradicated.
The divine have clearly turned their backs on this realm, and it is up to us to survive the flames of destruction and rise from the ashes.
I shake my head and adjust my eyes. I’ve had enough of my own thoughts. Now, I want answers. I turn to Rowan, who looks down at the book still in his hand, perturbed. Ruaan and Viltarin follow my gaze. Only Rowan is the one who doesn’t seem to notice my stare.
“So?” I push. His green eyes finally lift to meet mine.
“She’s shadow-born.” Rowan says studiously, glaring down at the book still in his hand.
I’m not surprised. I’ve come to this conclusion already based simply from the magick she's already displayed. I watch quietly as he swallows hard and furrows his brows further over his eyes. I know this look from him. He’s trying to work through what he’s learned.
“You’re sure she never knew?” He asks with a hint of skepticism laced into his tone.
“I trust her when she says she didn’t know. She’s only recently bore the marks.” I say confidently, and Ruaan shakes his head. “What are you shaking your head for? Do you know something I don’t?” I bark in his direction.
“It’s just, you didn’t know that I was Senka-born either.
You can will your shadows to recede from your skin.
The marks—they had to have been there all along.
” He exchanges a look with Rowan, and it makes me bristle.
I don’t fucking believe this. Are they suggesting that Astraea has lied to us—to me?
. Fury builds in my chest. What the fuck does he mean?
Will the marks away? Mavros and I can make them still, pass them off as tattoos, but they have never vanished from my skin.
Even when I felt as though I had no access to my magick, my shadow marks were present on my skin in their still tattoo-like form.
“So the book did have some good information in it…” Ruaan continues, urging Rowan to keep talking.
I don’t turn to face my new ally; instead, I close my eyes, trying to will myself to calm.
My jaw creaks as I clamp down on the words threatening to spew from my mouth.
Hear them out. Listen to what they have to say.
It’s a mantra I repeat in my mind while still trying to keep my focus.
Viltarin says something I don’t catch, and he and Ruaan begin talking amongst themselves. Still, I don’t open my eyes. I can’t. The moment I do, I know the small thread of composure I have is going to snap. I can feel someone's eyes on me, likely Rowan from the seed of doubt he’s trying to sow.
But I don’t doubt her. I won’t.
I have questions, sure. There is still so much unknown to me.
I don’t know anything a future king should, and that was surely intentional.
But what I do have are instincts, and with everything that has come to fruition, those instincts are telling me they are wrong about this.
The hurt I caused her was too real. Her awe at the magick was genuine.
Tangible. My mind now replays recent events: Ruaan and Colette showing up at Kaeleith’s; my magick taking so long to regenerate, only to be seemingly brought back to life when Astraea’s magick manifested fully. Pain builds between my brows.
If Ruaan was at the dunes, who did he arrive with, and why?
What happened to Colette, and why were they together when arriving at Kaeleiths?
Question after blatantly obvious question surfaces like a desert storm—fast and with heated fury.
I’ve been so preoccupied by everything going on with Astraea that I’ve failed to even ask the most basic of questions.
I snap my gaze toward the hushed conversation Viltarin and Ruaan are having, and they immediately fall silent.
“Why were you in the dunes, Ruaan?” I tilt my head as I question him.
Every set of eyes are on me as I drill my gaze into his.
He doesn’t back down, though. Instead, he stares back at me, his brows drawn.
I forgot that the city we stand in is like an echo chamber now that it is nearly empty of inhabitants, and my voice carries loudly despite him being so close.
I don’t care. It’s time I finally finish the conversation that the Pyraxian Prince and I started back in the Creshian forest. The conversation, of course, Kaeleith had urged me to have with him.