Chapter 22 The Breaking Point
THE brEAKING POINT
The chaos was perfect.
Servants swarmed the halls over the next two days, preparing for Kairos’s party, and while they hauled in barrels, I studied their routines.
Kitchen staff left unguarded supplies near the cellars.
I slipped food into a bag—preserved meats, fruits, bread wrapped in cloth.
A small dagger, stolen from a warrior’s belt.
The library became my refuge. I examined maps, poring over the geography until my eyes ached.
Then I found an excellent map of the Mirenwilde, dense with detail.
Hundreds of creeks and waterfalls tagged in faded ink, game trails threading through the trees, and pools.
Dozens of them, labeled with spiral symbols scattered throughout the woods.
I’d marked the closest one as the pool that dragged me into this realm, but I wasn’t completely sure. I had to understand how portal runes worked.
Laying a fresh sheet over the map, I traced its lines with careful strokes, the ink gleaming in the lamplight. I blew on the page until it dried, then swept everything into my satchel.
A faint ache pulsed in my lower ribs, the same dull knot I’d started waking with the past few mornings. I shifted and rubbed at it absently. Probably stress. As I tied the satchel, a familiar baritone drifted through the shelves.
Kairos.
My arm jerked, knocking the ink well. It spilled over the table. Damn it, Lioren would kill me. I righted the ink and grabbed spare sheets of parchment, mopping the mess. I balled the pages as the hairs on my neck prickled.
A footstep creaked the floorboards.
I sat straighter, gritting my teeth.
He didn’t announce himself, not that he needed much of an introduction. His presence dropped like the mist he wielded, heavy…but soft. Unnervingly quiet.
He took another step, and I bristled. Now he was close enough to breathe in, and I couldn’t stand it. For two days, he’d been absent—not that I cared. Every morning, I watched from my window as he disappeared into the forest on monstrous beasts.
Creatures with glowing eyes and hooves that scraped the earth. He returned late, battered and bloodied. Didn’t matter. I’d be gone soon.
I kept cleaning the table.
He didn’t speak.
I sighed roughly. “What do you want?”
A weight landed on my chair, and his knuckles brushed my shoulder. My heart jumped, and I clenched my jaw until it passed.
“Just looking,” he murmured. “My guards report that you’re always in here. What are you studying?”
“Nothing in particular.”
He circled the chair. He must have come from the baths. His silver-white hair was damp, and he smelled like cedar and something mineral. His loosely fitted shirt was laced halfway down his chest. I hated that someone so dangerous had been made so easy to look at.
An image flashed through my mind—attendants soaping him, running cloths over those muscled shoulders. Females, probably. Beautiful fae who got to touch him.
I gritted my teeth. I had no right to be jealous.
Kairos plunked himself into a chair. Even slouched, he was striking—sharp jaw, full mouth, those amber eyes that saw everything. Then he grabbed a book off the stack and studied the cover. “First Blood: The Beginner’s Manual to Blood Runes. Should I be concerned?”
I snatched it from him, my fingers brushing his. “It’s research.”
“What kind?”
“I need to understand my captor.”
His lips twitched. “You could ask me.”
“You’ve been gone and…you have better things to do than talk to me.”
“Nothing more interesting than watching you plot against me.”
“My, we’re paranoid, aren’t we?”
“You’re right. I’m being unreasonable.” His mouth pulled into a devastating grin, and I hated how my stomach dipped. “Though one of my warriors reported a missing dagger. And last night, the kitchen staff noticed bread and dried meat walking off on their own. Strange.”
I lifted my chin. “Maybe you should hire more attentive guards.”
His smile vanished. “Maybe I should lock you in a tower.”
I waited for the smirk to reappear, but his stony expression stayed perfectly still. A dark thrill raced down my spine. The way he looked at me—like he could take me—should’ve made me bolt for the door.
“You could do that, but you won’t.”
His eyebrow arched. “Won’t I?”
“Because then I’d loathe you, and you don’t want that. You care what I think of you.”
“I’ve survived a hundred years of people hating me. One more won’t break me.”
“Then why does being compared to Vaeris make you so upset?”
“Because Vaeris is a cunt.”
My lips twitched. Fair enough.
He hadn't even shown up to my execution. Couldn't be bothered to watch me die. His parting gift was hope—a deal that would've shattered the second the blade fell.
I looked away, blinking hard.
Warm fingers covered mine, and the hardness in his eyes softened. Not much, but enough that heat swooped low in my stomach. He had no business being this gentle when I needed to hate him.
“What are you doing?”
His thumb traced my knuckles.
“You don’t have to touch me like that.”
“No.” His thumb kept moving. “I don’t.”
I pulled my hand back. “What do you want?”
“You.”
My mouth went slack. He was supposed to smirk. Deflect. Turn this into a game. Instead, he just watched me.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
My cheeks burned. “You could at least pretend to be subtle.”
“I’ve been chained for a century. I’m not spending my freedom being coy.”
“So romantic.”
“Would you prefer I lie?”
I bit back a smile. Gods, the bluntness was almost refreshing.
“Why me?”
“You look like something I shouldn’t touch.” His gaze dragged down my body. “Soft. Fragile.”
My skin began to ache.
He leaned forward. “But you’re not, are you? You can break things that shouldn’t break.”
“So I’m a novelty.”
“You’re a problem. I catch your scent and stop thinking clearly. You plot against me under my own roof, and I let you.” His lips curved. “I like watching you play.”
I brushed hair from my neck, flushing. He was admitting that I affected him?
My attention flicked to the satchel under the table. The corner of my map was sticking out, and with how Kairos was sitting…if he glanced down, he’d see it.
Shit.
I needed to distract him.
I tilted my head. “What if I could be persuaded to change my mind about you?”
“Could you?”
“Maybe,” I breathed, letting myself soften. “If you did a favor for me.”
“Like?”
“Answer my questions honestly.”
He smiled. “Scheming again?”
“Is that a no?”
His eyes gleamed. “Ask away.”
“Tell me about your runes.”
“My runes?”
He had so many of them.
Sharp angles and elegant swirls. Some glowed green while others bore a faint reddish tint. None of these resembled runes I’d seen in Skalgard. Not the cleric’s marks, the nobles’ gilded runework, or even the rough street carvings.
“This was carved before my first battle.” Kairos rolled up his sleeve, revealing sprawling ink. “It’s meant to summon fire. One small deviation here—” he dragged his thumb over a delicate curve, “—and instead of summoning fire, it turns into a burst of power.”
“Lightning?”
He nodded, and another rune glistened on him.
I reached for it. “What’s this?”
Kairos stiffened as I brushed his skin, and heat surged beneath my palm. Wild, electric, and alive. It raced up my fingertips, licked across my hand.
Then the rune flared. Cool steam unfurled from the ink, coiling around my wrist, sliding up my forearm. It felt like him—like his touch.
I gasped and jerked back, but the mist followed.
“Relax,” he said tightly. “It’s reacting to you.”
“What is?”
He cleared his throat. “My magic.”
“Well, make it stop!”
“I have as much control over that as you do over this.” He seized my wrist, and his thumb pressed against my racing pulse.
“Your runes,” I whispered. “They never fade, do they?”
He shook his head.
“Why not? Every rune I’ve seen needs to be redrawn.”
“There’s no need. My blood is a permanent source of power.”
I needed to keep him talking. “So they last forever?”
“Yes. Nothing can break them.”
“Except me.”
“Yes.”
His gaze started to drift toward the books scattered on my table. I let my hand slide up his arm. His eyes snapped to mine.
“Does that…frighten you? That I could break your runes?”
A slow smile spread over his face. “To do that, you’d have to be very close to me.”
He dragged my hand over his chest, and my pulse spiked.
“And you’d have to make me forget what you can do.”
I inhaled a shallow breath. “Oh? How would I do that?”
“You could get on your knees. Use that pretty mouth to distract me.”
Heat blistered my neck, but I kept my expression neutral. He was just taunting me.
“I’d enjoy that very much,” he said silkily. “Especially the part where I let you think you’re in control.”
My stomach flipped.
“And when you try to break my runes?” he purred. “I’d pin you down and show you what happens when you play games with me.”
I swallowed hard, searching for a response. “What a filthy fantasy.”
He leaned forward. “Who says it’s a fantasy?”
Against my will, an image burst in my mind.
His chambers. Low firelight. My hands exploring his bare chest, tracing each rune while he watched me with those burning eyes.
The way his muscles would tense under my touch.
The thrill of all that strength and power, softening for me alone. My mouth on his throat—
His hand came up, fingers brushing my jaw. Tilting my face toward his.
Oh gods. He was going to kiss me.
I froze, letting him pull me closer. My body ached for it. To know what those lips felt like. It had been so long. I wanted this—gods help me, I did—
Kissing him would make it harder to leave, and I had to. How could I want him when my sister needed me?
Then he stopped.
His hand left my face. He leaned back, the heat draining from his expression, replaced by amusement.
My stomach dropped.
He ducked beneath the table. When he straightened, my satchel dangled from his grip. He opened it slowly. Each item he pulled out felt like a slap. Dried meat. Bread. The stolen dagger. Then the map.
He chuckled. “Bad girl.”
Heat flooded my face.
“I’ve been playing this game longer than you’ve been alive,” he said, examining the map.
“Give that back!”
“You would’ve let me kiss you to protect these supplies.” He slid the blade into an empty sheath at his belt. “That’s dedication.”
He was wrong. I hadn’t been thinking about the supplies at all.
He stood, pocketing the map. “Tomorrow, we’ll work on your gift.”
“What?”
“Your gift,” he drawled, heading to the door. “You nearly killed yourself shattering my deal. The next time you break a rune, I’d rather you not die.”
Then he was gone.
I sat there, shaking. My lips tingled where his thumb had brushed them, and I still felt his hand on my jaw. I pressed my palms to my eyes.
He had the map. The dagger. Everything.
And I had nothing but the memory of almost kissing him.