Chapter 22 Eiri #2
“Don’t touch me,” he spat.
“Eiri, let me explain,” Syrus protested, but Eiri shook his head. He couldn’t hear it. Not right now, with betrayal bleeding him dry and revulsion curdling his stomach. When Syrus tried to move closer to him, Eiri took a step back, putting distance between them.
“There’s nothing to explain. You lied to me. End of story.”
“Can we talk about this after the party? We need to get back out there before anyone notices us missing. We’ll get through the evening, then—”
“You must be joking,” Eiri laughed, the sound raw and ragged. “I’m not going back out there.”
“Eiri, if we have any chance of appeasing the queen, we have to finish the night. Please.” Syrus didn’t reach for him again, at least, but Eiri still took another step back.
“What was the point of all this? To get me to trust you? Because you and I both know that no one here will ever accept me, least of all your mother.” The high neck of the jacket he wore seemed to tighten, choking him, a collar marking him as Syrus’ property.
It was all he could do not to rip every stitch of it off him.
“Were you just playing nice to get me to agree to this? Until, bit by bit, you stripped me of everything that I truly am?”
“No!” Syrus shook his head and took a half-step closer, checking himself when Eiri immediately moved away. “Maybe it started like that, but that’s not what I want anymore. You have to believe me.”
“No. No, I really don’t. I did that once and look where it got us.
” He yanked at the collar of the jacket, popping one of the buttons, but all that mattered was that he could breathe a little easier.
“I’m done, Syrus. With you and your entire backward, greedy, scheming cesspit of a country.
I refuse to live like this anymore. I’m done. ”
Syrus tried to stop him, reaching for his arm, but Eiri had always been faster.
He easily slipped past him and out into the hallway, breaking into a run the moment he was out of sight of the grand ballroom.
Distantly, he could hear the staccato rap of boots on tile somewhere behind him, but he’d evaded Syrus for the last ten years and he would do it again now.
He ran blindly, slowing down only when he passed the occasional guard in the corridors.
Most of the security centered on the ballroom, as the entire royal family was in attendance, but the personal quarters weren’t left completely unguarded, and the last thing he needed was to give the soldiers a reason to stop him.
Only when he no longer heard Syrus behind him did he slow down. His breath sawed in and out of his lungs and tears blurred his vision, much to his disgust. Bad enough he’d let himself fall for the lies of a Vaetrean. He couldn’t let himself give in to the grief threatening to take hold.
Eiri chose hallways at random, always whichever seemed to be the darkest and emptiest, walking until his shaking legs were about to give out.
Finally, he chose a door at random and let himself in.
This entire hallway was completely abandoned, as far as he could tell, and the room he found himself in felt just as neglected.
Large white cloths covered the furniture, but a wall of shelves let him know he was in some sort of study.
It wasn’t hard to pick out the desk and Eiri went straight for it, crawling into the leg space like a frightened child seeking shelter from a storm.
There wasn’t much room, but he curled himself up there anyway, pulling his knees to his chest and holding on tight.
Everything felt strangely distant, his thoughts blurred and his head fuzzy.
Every conflicting emotion was still there, churning within his chest in a maelstrom of pain, but they were blunted, like it was happening to someone else.
Eiri desperately wished it were happening to someone else. Someone who couldn’t still feel the phantom memory of Syrus’ lips on his skin. Someone who didn’t remember the warm smile Syrus seemed to reserve only for him. Someone who didn’t know that every single bit of it had been a lie.
He hid under the desk for hours, until his thoughts went hazy and his body slumped with fatigue. It had to be well after midnight, possibly closer to dawn, and surely Syrus would be asleep by now.
Every muscle ached when he crawled out of his hiding space, cramped from sitting curled up on the hard wooden floor for so long. Like his depressing thoughts, though, the pain felt distant, his mind and body disconnected.
There were no guards in the hallways as he stumbled back to the room he’d stolen from Syrus.
Something about that seemed wrong, but he couldn’t think of why right now, nor did he care.
All he cared about was that the bedroom was empty when he slipped inside.
For a moment, the door stuck, and he feared Syrus had locked him out, but it opened after a gentle push.
The bed was empty, still untidy from where he’d slept in it, the hearth cold and filled with gray ash.
Even the lunch tray from earlier lay forgotten on the table, the silver covers still in place.
The maids didn’t come to this room, not while only he occupied it, and that was perfectly fine with him.
He wouldn’t be sleeping here tonight anyway.
The wardrobe called his name, though, and he stripped off the Vaetrean clothing he’d worn to the party, leaving a trail from the door to the wardrobe.
With the Canjiri embellishments, the garments had almost been pretty, but now they only served as a reminder of Syrus and his lies.
His traditional loose, billowing pants and fitted shirt were familiar, but tonight, even they didn’t feel quite right.
The shirt left his arms bare, and the chill of the room seeped into him, slipping past the numbing fog he’d wrapped himself in.
His soft shoes were too light after an evening spent wearing heavy boots, but at least his jewelry was familiar.
He put in each of his earrings, every single one he’d taken out in an attempt to be ‘appropriate’ for tonight, and with each stud and hoop, a piece of himself slid back into place.
The future was a vast unknown. He didn’t even know where he would sleep tonight or what tomorrow would bring, but at least he would face it as who he was: Eiri C’Dari, a proud Canjiri, a raider, a man who made his own path. That had to be enough.
Tonight, though, he would go back to the study he’d found and rest there.
He’d stow his pride in the morning and seek out Kien, as he should have done from the very beginning.
He was done trusting outsiders. The only person in this country who gave a damn about him was Kien.
They’d find a way out of this together. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it would have to be enough for now.
Squaring his shoulders, Eiri looked around the room, but there was nothing he needed here. Not anymore.
“I will get through this,” he breathed. He took a steadying breath and walked out of the room, directly into the arms of the guard waiting outside the door for him.
He didn’t even get a chance to fight, too stunned to think clearly, and the next thing he knew, pain exploded along the side of his face.
The guard shoved him harder into the wall, the stone scraping open his face, as another slapped a heavy set of manacles on him.
“What are you doing?” he snarled, belatedly trying to struggle, but a blow to the back of his head left him seeing stars, the fight draining out of him as he focused on staying conscious.
“Quiet, you fucking gutter trash,” the guard ordered, his voice dripping hate. “You are under arrest.”
“For what?” His head spun, throbbing in pain with every frantic thump of his heart.
“You damn well know what,” another guard spat. He hadn’t even noticed her, or the half a dozen others ranging behind the big man who’d slammed him into the wall. When the first guard spoke again, Eiri’s blood ran cold, the darkness rushing in, leaving him reeling.
“You are under arrest for the murder of Prince Syrus Vardor.”