27. A White flag stained with Blood
A White flag stained with Blood
KYRA
How much time passed before my eyes open is unknown, but the sky has changed from scarlet to a deep midnight shade, riddled with stars. “Blaiiiise.” His name flutters once again.
What or who the hell is saying that? I become more annoyed the more it happens.
A crisp breeze kisses me, and I rotate my head down, shaking off the intrusion and finding scorched marks etched into the distance.
What happened, and what am I leaning against?
Blinking and wiping clumps of dried tears from my face, I realize I’m sore, but the pain is tolerable.
Reaching for my side reveals newly mended bones. Somewhat mended.
I have use of both arms, and my breathing is better. Why am I not dead? A better question is how was I healed? Or rather, who healed me?
A groan sounds to my right, and I see Ethan perched atop a tree stump, watching with questioning eyes, still holding his spear. Shit.
Bits of my energy feel restored. Why he chose not to kill me while in a vulnerable state, I don’t know, but he won’t get a second chance.
Not at a speed I much care for, but one I can work with, I press both hands onto the ground and stand as bark nibbles my back. As I create a shield, two large, crescent blades come forth on each side.
“Stop,” he says, not moving a muscle, and his spear fades.
Foolish. Now he is at a disadvantage. “You can put those away. Our fight’s over.
” Ethan sighs and turns towards the temple, now a singed pile of rubble.
Is it really, or is he waiting to replenish his energy?
“Can you come here?” His question reaches me without changing his focus, but I’m not falling for any traps.
“Why should I?”
“Because for once, I’m asking you, Kyra. Not demanding.”
Ethan turns, finally connecting those rich gold and red orbs to my hazel ones.
A truce if there ever was one. Him demanding things is what I’m used to, so now when he asks instead, it feels…
unsettling. Anxiety births for a pulse, and I wait.
What’s your angle? But the moment is gone once he returns his focus towards the temple.
*Sigh* Both shield and crescent blades dissolve, and I reach to dust off the back of my tights. Taking this brief millisecond to summon a metal dagger, I tuck it into my waistband. *Sigh*
Burned leaves crack as I approach. My pace is slow, and I never lose sight of him. “Sit,” he orders, and I frown.
“I’m not a pet. You don’t command me, Ethan.” Rolling my eyes, I add, “Plus, I don’t trust you, so no, I’ll stand.”
Unsatisfied, he waves a hand, growing an identical sitting stump, which sweeps me off my feet, forcing me to sit. Upon doing so, it evolves into a full rocking chair, seat cushion and back pad included.
“Damn it, of course you have Earth magic.” Not the slightest bit surprised, however, annoyed is another thing.
I’ve come to accept that Ethan is a bottomless pit, not to mention my grim reaper, but I still haven’t placed a finger on why he is being–cordial.
Went from trying to kill me to whatever this is. I’m not falling for it.
“Language, Kyra,” he huffs like I’m being insufferable. “Do you know what tonight is?”
“No.” Why guess when I’ll for sure be wrong?
“The anniversary of my father’s death. ”
Shit. Okay, I’m falling for it. I try finding a sympathetic thought, but it’s futile. I never met my father and wished a fate worse than death on my mother. Rosie and Ethan’s father aren’t on equal footing. But I do understand loss, and no matter who it is, it hurts.
“I–I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” Scanning his features, I find nothing.
Not a trace of anger shown before, nor a lick of sadness.
He is just…here. “Is this why you’ve been hell bent on killing me today?
Or someone for that matter.” Caspian comes to mind and Ethan’s intention of battling him. But I forced his hand, didn’t I?
“Language, Kyra.” He returns a side-eye, and I scoff.
“Seriously? After all this?” Gesturing to our surroundings in case he forgot, I chide, “I think we’re past your language discernment or lack-there-of.
And last I checked, you cursed earlier yourself.
Not that I’m keeping score.” I lean a tad closer to drive in my narrative, but he glares.
“Fine, I apologize for cursing. You see how easy it is?”
His leer softens and once again returns upon the destruction we caused. “I wasn’t behaving out of emotions. Killing you is forever at the forefront of my mind.”
“Gee, thanks for being honest.” I blow an irritated breath.
“I’ll never be anything less, but you’re welcome.
Try refraining from interrupting once you’ve asked a question.
” My lips part to speak, but this is a battle I’m too tired to fight.
So I remain quiet and listen. “Every year, I’d make my way home on this day to tend to my father’s grave.
” He releases another exhale. This time, something within him ticks.
It’s short lived, but I catch it–or rather feel it.
Anguish. “But because of these laws extending around campus, Rebirth students are not permitted to leave. A full lockdown.”
How did I not know we were under lockdown? Duh, you’re new here, and not everyone trusts you. I need my computer ASAP. No more putting it off.
“What entails a full lockdown? Like you can’t leave the city, state, or country?” Ethan shifts his brows downward, a twin expression with mine.
“Not exactly. In comparison to mortals, we have divisional borders–countries. Four lands as a whole, ruled by a kingdom with towns throughout. Our lockdown extends as far as Rebirth’s wards can reach.”
Basically, it’s the entire school. The sting of his gaze remains lost in an ocean of magma, highlighted by a golden dawn.
Not a spark of fight is within them, so I dissolve my dagger.
Can I trust him? “This is a modern day ‘Game of Thrones.’” A quiet gasp follows on a new promise to see every inch of their lands. For my best friend.
“Game of, who?” He arches a brow.
“Nothing.” I watch as he becomes more curious.
“You’re–we’re on lockdown, yet you broke the school’s law to come here for me…
I mean, to fight me?” I question, circling back to the decree he voiced to Caspian.
“But I’m sorry you couldn’t see your father.
I know it’s painful.” Turning away slowly, I feel an ache of possibly never visiting Rosie’s grave and hide the shame of my confusion, which grows more when I’m around him.
“How can you know what this feels like?” He scoffs.
“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone. There’s a grave going unattended in the mortal realm with no way of me getting back. Yeah, I know what it feels like,” I rebut, giving him a side eye, and he grunts, softening his tone.
“Rosie?”
Damn it, of course he witnessed my breakdown. Out of everyone breathing air, why did the universe allow Ethan access to my innermost sacred moments? The fay hell bent on murdering me. I sigh, nodding without uttering a word.
“I won’t ask for an explanation on what happened; it appears personal. Despite what you may think of me, it’s something I’d never do. Prying into your personal obstacles.”
“I don’t–know what to say…thanks…I guess.” This moment takes me by surprise. Ethan being cordial is something I never thought I’d see.
“No need to thank me, Kyra. Some fays prefer their secrets.” He averts his eyes, gazing at the temple’s remains. But unlike him, there are things I want answered. Need answered.
“Do you have secrets you’d rather not tell?” No shit, they’re called secrets for a reason.
“Yes.” A dry answer. Nothing more, nothing less. I push a little harder, hopping on a whim.
“Are there secrets you wouldn’t mind sharing?”
“No.”
A huff escapes me. “Right, forget it,” I mutter, giving up.
We are enemies, which he has made clear, so why ask for more? At a stand still awaiting our energy’s recovery doesn’t mean anything has changed. A few moments expire without a word, and I rock in the comfort of his magical chair, pondering what comes next.
“Kyra, tell me about Rosie,” he says, still locked on to the temple and not batting an eye. What the hell is so interesting about a building no one visits? Based on what is written in the tomes, it’s been abandoned for years.
“Sorry, it’s a secret.” Scoffing, I roll my eyes, but deep within, a little voice won’t let this go. “You know what, you have some damn nerve asking me about–”
“You get four. Nothing more and only this once.” Speaking over me, he shifts his full focus to mine.
My jaw clamps shut, eyes wide, shifting over the softness of his features.
He is offering an olive branch, but why does everything Ethan says entice more questions?
I study him, waiting for a ‘gotcha’ moment, yet it never comes. “I take it as a no. Fair enou–”
“Wait.” Raising a palm, I ask, “Four questions to ask and you’ll answer truthfully?”
“Yes, so make them count.”
“Okay–give me a moment, please.” Holy shit, this is real, but there are more than four questions I want answered.
I go through each instance, wrecking my brain as he waits for my interrogation. Studying the stars as though they’ll help me choose, I decide after an endless moment the ones circling my thoughts will have to do.
“First question.” I pause in preparation of his answer. “Why do you need to kill me?” I swallow a golf ball size of regret following the question, and nervousness shakes my leg.
“Your mother…killed my father.” He returns a pause, and I suck in more air than my lungs can handle. My heart falls into the pit of my ass.
What… The last four ‘W’s’ follow my thoughts, along with ‘how,’ and before asking, he continues. Thank God. I’m still processing…this.