Chapter 16
Sixteen
Khayrivven
In his long years in the military, nothing had prepared Khayrivven for the fear flaring inside of him at the sight of Elory Vednis marching toward the king’s dais, the purple dress he’d thought a blessing when he’d touched and kissed her earlier in the sitting room, now a curse that would allow any blade to find her skin, no proper layer of protection holding off the sharp edge.
Heart in his throat, he followed, his eyes flitting between Lory’s back and Elina’s lovely face, uncertain whom he should fear for more, and who to protect if it came to it.
The wooden steps separated him from Ulder and Elina, and he intended to keep his calm until the guard stopped them in front of the king whose face he couldn’t forget, even in his sleep.
This was the man who’d ordered his parents killed.
The man who’d stolen his sister and forced him to do unspeakable things.
Khayrivven’s fingers closed around the air at his hip where this sword would usually hang, quietly bemoaning the lack of casually accessible weapons.
The butter knife in his breast pocket weighed like a rock, beckoning him to reach for it, but Khayrivven was determined to play the game like he always had.
He’d step in front of the king, bow his fucking head as if it were nothing. He’d endure the phrases and taunts. Then he’d nod and take on whatever mission the king gave him this time and execute it without complaint.
It was how it had to be, his dignity offered up on a platter for the king to destroy as he pleased. But until that day, Elina had never been there to watch his humiliation. He hadn’t come face-to-face with his sister since he’d held her in his arms as an infant.
And Lory—even though she knew he had no choice, her witnessing his compliance with a man he despised for all he’d done, made his dignity mean something for the first time in years.
It didn’t allow him to breathe any easier that Ulder had asked for her specifically. He’d known that bringing her here would be a risk, but as Lory stopped in front of Ulder, Khayrivven was ready to jump out of his skin.
Years of practice were the only thing saving him from making a painful mistake and stepping in front of her like a human shield.
The less the king knew about his attachment to this Flame-born, the better.
Not that it made his heart race any less or subdued his terror as Ulder beheld Lory’s form with a curious smile.
“Such pretty company you have brought today, Captain Falcrest.” He spoke in the dignified tone of a settled monarch who’d won wars and conquered provinces.
But that wasn’t all. Ulder of Brestolya had bent an entire people to his will, taking their lands, their freedom, their futures from them in the blink of an eye when he’d exiled the Duke of Criulias.
Not to speak of the double-play he used to sort through the magic wielders in his realm.
“Indeed, my king.” Khayrivven nearly choked on the formality of the man’s title, but for Elina, he could play this game. And now he could do the same thing for Lory. Even when it meant cutting deep into his own heart.
Ulder tilted his head, assessing Lory like a prize pony, his gaze snagging on the plunging neckline of her dress.
“I’d ask you for a dance, Miss Vednis, but we have urgent business to discuss, and I don’t want to risk keeping the captain from his duties longer than necessary.
” He lowered his voice, leaning forward an inch, and the way he devoured Lory with a look made all sorts of violent thoughts well up in Khayrivven’s mind.
“After all, the captain’s success in his missions is essential to my peace of mind. ”
When his eyes cut to Khayrivven, a spark of cruelty threatened to ignite, but Ulder had been playing this game longer than Khayrivven, and his composure didn’t slip—it never had.
Not when he’d first told him that he might see Elina from up close one day if he followed all orders to a T.
And that her dead, mangled body would be the only thing he’d get to see if he failed to do so.
Keeping his throat from bobbing, Khayrivven inclined his head, indicating he was ready for whatever Ulder had to say, even when his eyes kept flicking to the young woman behind the king.
Elina’s eyes, so bright and radiant, identical to their father’s, shone with the exhilaration of the dance, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement.
Or so Khayrivven told himself because, if there was one thing he dreaded as much as he hoped for, it was that Elina was oblivious to the role she played in her brother’s life.
But no tell of recognition lived within those azure irises. No silent request to take her far away from this place, to save her.
While Khayrivven suppressed the words burning on his tongue, words that would damn them both, with a small grimace, Ulder got to his feet, flexing his left hand once before hooking his thumb into the golden belt slung around his middle. “Walk with me, Captain.”
Not an invitation. An order disguised as manners.
In the fashion of a courtier, Khayrivven tucked his hands behind his back as he walked half a step behind the king’s shoulder, allowing the guards to keep an eye on them.
“I’ll see you at midnight, Miss Vednis,” he said to Lory with a bow of his head, fighting the impulse to throw an arm around her shoulders and guide her from this farce of an event just to make sure Ulder wouldn’t take her, too.
He didn’t dare take another look at Elina, anxious he’d trigger Ulder’s wrath—a wrath he knew could end lives and tear families apart in a heartbeat.
“Actually, I’d like Miss Vednis to join us.
” Again, Ulder’s tone didn’t allow room for objections, and part of Khayrivven inhaled a breath of relief as Lory held out her hand to him, and he could feel the warmth of her skin seep through his sleeve as he held out his arm for her as she looped hers around it.
Not that staying close to him would be safe for her; it merely satisfied his delusion that anything he did would make a difference in the fate of the woman whose existence had altered his reality.
Heads turned as they followed the king through the room, guards armed with spears and swords trailing behind at a few paces’ distance. Khayrivven didn’t dare glance over his shoulder to the dais, where his sister was still standing, observing the activity on the dance floor.
For Elina. He was doing all of this for Elina.
But a part of him—a rebellious part of him—whispered that he was doing this for Lory now, too.
On the way to an ornate office, they passed thirteen doors, all of them closed, and a balcony overlooking the courtyard.
Countless times, Khayrivven had studied the palace floor plans, searching for the best exits should his sister ever choose to run—not that he could ever give her that information, or that she’d want it.
He marked every guard in the limestone-and-marble alcoves, every corridor meeting the main hallway, and every window.
“Marvelous, isn’t it?” Ulder gestured at the view on the pyramid outside the window on the other side of the room from where he walked around a gilded desk, taking a seat in a wide, cushioned chair. “I can watch the comings and goings of Ashthorn Ward from my office.”
A chill crept up Khayrivven’s neck, and on his arm, he could have sworn Lory was suppressing a shiver.
“I remember the day you were brought into the Ward.” Ulder’s eyes cut to Lory, fascination sparking the king’s brown eyes, and Khayrivven’s fingers tightened around Lory’s hand out of their own volition.
“The captain was carrying you in his arms.” A flash of amusement crossed Ulder’s face.
“Naturally, he had no idea what important piece of Brestolya’s puzzle he’d been put in charge of delivering to the Ward. ”
Don’t react, he thought at Lory, willing his mind to find hers, his dreamweaving abilities burning to hook into her consciousness and drag her under just enough to allow her to hear him, but they both needed to be alert in order to survive this. And more than their lives depended on it.
He bit his tongue, keeping his face carefully empty as he waited for things to go downhill.
“What, no questions, Miss Vednis?” Ulder prompted when Lory didn’t react at all, her expression as empty as Khayrivven’s. “That means you know exactly what role you play in this realm. I assume the captain informed you?”
Still no response. Not even a blink.
Khayrivven was still debating whether to be proud of his little Flame or to get ready to fight their way out of the palace.
At least, Ulder had brought only four guards into the room, all of whom had magical abilities, Khayrivven was certain.
Ulder would never enter a room with two known fire wielders without adequate protection.
When Lory still didn’t speak, Ulder folded his hands on the edge of the desk, a smirk forming on his lined features. “As I said earlier, we have urgent business to discuss, Khayrivven.”
Naturally, now that the world couldn’t listen, Ulder skipped all formalities, reminding Khayrivven of his place beneath the king’s boots.
“Give me a full report.” Ulder’s prompt had become as familiar as the sense of betrayal whenever Khayrivven followed protocol and gave all details to the man who reigned with terror over his people. He’d given that sort of report countless times—to Ulder, to the Triad.
“Five attacks in and around Dunai in the past ten days, but you’ve already heard that from the Triad, my king.”
“Magic wielders?” Ulder prompted.
“We assume it was magic wielders. The explosions were strong and targeted. Without magic, the rebels would need large amounts of explosives, which they can’t afford.”
“And you are so sure they can’t afford it, why?”