18 | Yaron
Shadow Keep
“You must be out of your mind, Kiandah, if you think you’ll be joining a war party to hunt for undead Alphas.”
Her lips are tightened to a tiny point. She shoves her finger in my stomach as we square off against one another. “You promised.”
“I was high out of my mind.” I hold my arms out and let them fall. I feel incensed and flustered, but Kiandah doesn’t seem fazed at all.
In fact, since the lashings four days ago, she seems so much more confident. I thought we’d have been able to move sooner, but my body healed slower than I anticipated. In the meantime, her confidence has sweltered like the fire she wields. Though that had been one of my hopes, I’m no longer certain that a confident Kiandah is a good thing. A confident Kiandah is bolder in her desires to save and protect and seems so confident in her ability to do so, while I feel increasingly unsure about my ability to protect her in her quests. I already have failed her so many times. It’s better if she stays here. But she won’t take no for an answer.
She’s royally pissing me off.
“Are you a liar, Lord Yaron?” She advances on me and moves to push my chest. I capture her wrist before she can touch me.
My gaze narrows and the sudden surge of anger I feel rattles me. She must feel it in the pressure of my fingers on hers, or her Omega must sense it, because she tenses, bracing. “You continue with such accusations and I might throw you into the dungeons,” I tell her, “or over my knee.”
“If you release my arm and keep your word, Lord Yaron, I might just throw you over mine.” Her hand forms a fist, tendons and muscles straining beneath my palm. She takes a half step towards me, almost closing the distance between us entirely. The vision is too much. I jerk away from her roughly and show her my back. I adjust myself in my riding trousers, wanting…wishing for… I’m slapped in the face by a memory of her moans, the sounds she made when I rutted into her that very first time. I feel flush with heat.
And she must sense everything I’m feeling. When I glance back, her pupils have dilated. Her tongue wets her lips.
“Kiandah, don’t.” I storm across the chamber, past the inane pieces of furniture decorating the sitting area in the center of the space, to my closet. I retrieve a cloak. I spend a long time retrieving that cloak.
Kiandah, no sense for self-preservation, slowly follows me. “You said you invited my brother to join the hunt because he’s a Rider now…”
“His job is you. He’ll remain in the castle if you remain in the castle, which you will. And if I hear that you have set foot outside of the grounds, his cloak will be stripped and I will…” Chain you to my bed…that’s what I’d been prepared to say, but my mind cannot help but conjure up the memory of what happened to the Lord of Dark City when he did just that to his Omega. He almost lost her. I can still recall the despair in his gaze, the longing he’d held as he stared after the female he loved most in the world and who hated his guts — who wanted to gut him herself. Granted, she eventually overcame her revulsion, but…what if I’m not so fortunate?
“Yes?” Kiandah barks, her hip jutted out, her tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek.
Fire. She carries so much of it today, so visibly, and even though my back is still tender, I cannot come to regret the decision I made just to see her defy me like this.
“What?” Her expression chills and she stops tapping her foot on the floor. She angles her shoulders away from me. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. It’s a little creepy.”
I smile more broadly.
She takes a step away from me and my beast exalts. He wants to chase. But if he catches her, it means nothing good for her at all. I am too poorly restrained these days. The lashing I took must have broken something. I don’t feel at all the same. “Yaron, say something.”
I want to fuck you. Forget the fucking undead. “You aren’t coming.”
“I am. With or without your permission.”
“Why are you so insistent? Do you know something I don’t? Are you more involved with Trash City than your little innocent act has led me to believe?”
Hurt flashes in her gaze, filling me with a momentary guilt. It’s fleeting, however. Her hurt is a powerful force and I refuse to allow her to manipulate me with it. “You know I’m not. I just…” Her teeth worry her lower lip. It’s out of proportion with her upper lip, which is a perfect, sharp bow, and too large for her face. Makes me salivate. I want nothing more than to sink my fangs into it and watch blood flower over that pretty brown edge. “I made a promise.”
“To whom?”
“Someone in the village.”
“To Robert?”
“The boy? Was he…lovers with the girl?”
“Yes. Her boyfriend. Quite in love, or as much as one can be at that young age.”
“I think that’s not giving him enough credit. Emotions are so strong at that age, maybe his love is more real and powerful than any of them.”
“Is that a challenge?” I feel myself grow hot and hateful. I hate that my skin is as pale as it is, for it can betray my emotions in bright flares of startling red color. It’s rare, but around her, I feel my heat betray me constantly.
She tenses her shoulders by her ears and juts her pretty little lower lip even further out. “Don’t try to change the subject or confuse me. I made a promise…”
“If not to Robert, then it had to have been to one of the villagers. Tell me who it was — the one who threw feces at you or the one who tried to strangle you?” She recoils, but I don’t feel guilty in the slightest. “You aren’t coming, Kiandah, and that’s final.”
“I am, and that’s final, Yaron. The only question is whether I go with or without you.” She steps forward and places her hand on my forearm. I cannot help the rush of warmth that flowers on my skin beneath her fingertips. “I won’t do anything stupid or crazy. I just want to help. You askedme for help. Let me. We’ll just talk to some people. Peasants are more likely to talk to me than to you. I might be able to get answers you can’t.”
“Many of them will still hate you. Why would they want to talk to you?”
“People say stupid things to people they hate. But to people they fear, they say nothing at all.” She’s right. Damn her. “And besides,” she says more loudly when I don’t speak. She takes two steps away from me and holds up her hands, fingers gesturing down at her garments. “You keep calling me your Lady, but is this really how you’d dress your Lady? If we’re headed to the ports, we can stop at the vendors there. I need clothes befitting a cook, at the very least, not a whore.”
I lunge forward and grab her throat. I can’t help it. I’d thought Dragnovic weak and a fool for his impulsive and tempestuous behavior around his Omega, but I’m starting to grow concerned that my behavior is far worse than his ever was. She’s making me a beast of me, regardless of what skin I’m wearing.
“Do not manipulate me, Kiandah.”
“It’s true,” she says, her so recently battered throat working beneath my palm. She licks her lips. “You know it’s true. I’ve had nothing to wear this whole time but your clothes. I don’t even have underwear or a bra.”
“What makes you think I’m going to purchase either underwear or a bra for you at the markets?”
“But you are going to take me, aren’t you?” A smile tugs her mouth up at the corner, just the one. She knows she’s got me. She knows she’s won.
I curse and step away from her at the same time that there’s a knock on the door. I leave her and open the door to find Cyprus there, Zelie beside him. Surprised, I glance between them, my gaze lingering over Cyprus. “What are you doing here?”
Cyprus looks just as surprised by my question as I am by his presence. “I understood you wanted me to join you and Kiandah at the ports.”
“When did I give such an order?”
“To Malik? When you were first brought in? I… Am I mistaken?” He shines in his red cloak, but right now, he shuffles, looking around me at his sister in discomfort.
“I…” I start, and then sag. “No. You are not mistaken.”
Kiandah makes a squeaking sound behind me and rushes forward. She hugs both of her siblings and I try not to be angry that she’s touching anyone but me. “Zelie, so good to see you well. What are you doing here?”
Zelie tucks her long twists over her shoulder and glances at me, her gaze dropping to my bare chest before she blushes. She tries to drop her voice, but I don’t move to give the females any additional privacy. “Hey, Kandia.” They have so many nicknames for her, I feel put out not knowing all of them, and not having more of my own. “I just was coming to see you off and to see if you wouldn’t mind picking up more batiks? We’re…” She glances at me, her blush deepening, before returning her gaze to her sister and saying even more quietly, “You know, if you can. I know you don’t have any money, but if you are able to…get us some fabric, we could use it. You know…” She makes a small, surreptitious gesture to the garment she’s wearing — the almost exact same gesture Kiandah made moments earlier.
I glance down at what the sister is wearing — a simple, burlap shift sporting threadbare patches. I know my face is likely red and splotchy as I look down at this interaction. I am ashamed. I should not be, for a plethora of reasons, but I am. Shame by proxy. It is unpleasant.
“How much?” Kiandah looks concerned. She’s picking at her bottom lip in a way I don’t like.
“Well, I think my dress can hold a little longer and Cyprus has been newly outfitted by the training guards. Audet’s dress is…”
I slap Kiandah’s hand away from her mouth, more irately than I intended to and she swats my hand back. Cyprus’s mouth parts in shock at our interaction, but he’s a clever male and doesn’t give it voice. “We’ll procure whatever you need. Return to your family and make a list — not only your clothing requirements but anything you need to improve your living conditions. Cyprus will bring it. Bring the list with you when we convene at the stables.”
“Truly?” Zelie says, gaze shifting nervously to mine. “My Lord. Apologies.”
“Yes. Don’t cut corners because you’re worried about cost. Tell me what you need, both for yourselves and for the kitchens. We will procure as much as we can with what time the day allows.”
Zelie shifts her weight between her feet. She dares me another look. “I don’t think I can accept that. After what you’ve done for us, my Lord.”
“Accept it, you will. You are royal cooks, staff of Shadow Keep. It is a disgrace to me to have underserved you.”
“You haven’t,” Zelie and Kiandah say in unison.
They’re watching each other with big brown eyes that they share, communicating in silence in a way I don’t like. I want Kiandah’s words. All of them. Spoken or otherwise. They’re mine. She’s mine.
I don’t know why I’m feeling so sensitive. Must be blood loss or residual venom still lingering in my veins. I shake my head. Cyprus says softly, “You haven’t, my Lord,” he offers even though — or perhaps, because, the words sound so unwilling, the moment feels rather big.
I am uncomfortable and so is he. We make brief eye contact before I nod my head. He bows sharply. “We will…be off then, my Lord.”
“Very well. Be ready to depart within the hour.” I quickly turn from them and close the door. I lean against it, breath caught in my throat. My discomfort spreads as I slowly swivel my gaze back to Kiandah, but the moment our eyes connect, it dissolves like dust in water. The look on her face erases it.
She’s looking at me like I’m her hero.
A sudden need floods my bones, but it is subtle enough to overcome. Just subtle enough. “I…” I start to say, but she places her hand on my chest, right beneath my throat.
“Thank you, Yaron.”
Rage at how I’ve been manipulated fills me. Rage and want. I want to fall to her knees now and push her to her absolute limits before denying her what she needs from me, what only I can give her. I close the space between us and place my hand on her neck in a similar, but more threatening position. I duck my head. “If you do anything to get yourself hurt today, Kiandah, I will kill you.”
“Comforting.” She purses her lips and looks like she’d like to say more, but doesn’t. We get ready in a tense, impenetrable silence before I escort Kiandah to the stables.
The stables are located on the western side of the castle. We walk through the courtyard of the keep to get there. Eyes track Kiandah and me everywhere. They see me, but they linger over Kiandah. A group of four older women — castle staff — carrying a basket of fresh linens between them are staring with particular vehemence. I slide my hand across Kiandah’s lower back. She stiffens, looking up at me, but I’m more interested in the way the women all grin and devolve into titters like schoolgirls when I raise my eyebrow in their direction as if challenging them to question this… Though as I stare, I realize I don’t think that is their intention at all. They look…pleased at the sight of Kiandah with me. Huh.
“We’ll take horses today,” I tell her as the scent of the stables precedes the sight of them. “The chariot would be too conspicuous.”
She scoffs, smiling slightly. “You are too conspicuous. Your mode of transport doesn’t change that.”
“You’re right, but unfortunately the carriages have a hard time following the highway lines through Paradise Hole. The swamp has overrun the roads and we’re likely to get stuck out there.” That is only part of the reason. The larger part is that I can’t risk taking a slower transportation if we are set upon by undead or if Trash City is prepared to ambush. But I don’t say that.
Dorsten is busy conversing with the stableman, the two of them trying to determine the horse best suited for Kiandah. “Are you an experienced rider?” he asks her over his shoulder while he secures the ties of Brega’s saddle. Brega huffs in impatience, ready to depart. While Brega has been allowed run of the pastures while I’ve been away, he hasn’t been ridden. I am the only one he allows that honor. And I can sense he’s battle-hungry yet.
I didn’t hear Kiandah’s answer, or if she gave one at all.
Dorsten continues, adjusting the final latch before lifting the reins in my direction. “My Lord.” I reach forward. Kiandah tries to step out of my path, but I prod her forward. Dorsten speaks to her next. “We have a smaller horse that would be well suited for your size, but she requires a firm hand.”
“Oh no…” Kiandah takes a step back, bumping into my chest. “That is generous, Lord Dorsten, but I have never ridden a horse before.”
I mine for strength. Her little vulnerabilities kill me. Though her brother has undoubtedly been introduced to horses well enough to ride one now, either this past week or prior, and we have more than enough time to give her basic training today, I don’t want to. I do my best not to betray my reaction as I slip my riding gloves on.
“No matter. Brega is more than capable of carrying us both. Let us not delay.”
I guide Brega out of the stables on foot and into the courtyard. People, people, everywhere. Their eyes track us from every vantage and I am both honored and proud to show Kiandah off and embarrassed that their Lady is displayed such. Covered in bruises and scabs, wearing a tunic beneath a cloak much too big for her.
The season is turning colder and while the trees still hold their leaves, they have begun to turn harsher colors. Redder colors. It does nothing to decrease the sense of foreboding I feel as the gates open and I prepare to venture with Kiandah into the unknown. These are my lands, but I hardly feel like I know them anymore. The Fates have changed everything.
My pride at showing her off as mine, my shame at how she’s displayed, my crippling lust as I imagine the feel of her body pressed to mine atop Brega, and my sudden irritation that I was swayed by her pretty smiles earlier and allowed her to come at all compete for dominance in the pit of my stomach.
My voice is not as charitable as it should be when I speak next and hiss, “Get on the horse, Kiandah. No matter what happens, I want you close.” I vault up onto Brega’s back and extend a hand down to her.
She doesn’t meet my gaze as she wraps her fingers around my wrist and I do the same to hers. “As you command, your Lordship.” Her heat is fiery as it flares. My lips twitch in a barely restrained grin as I haul her up and place her on the horse in front of me, push the sweet scent of her skin from my mind and prod Brega forward.
We are joined by a small contingent of ten Riders, her brother among them. As Brega plods past him down the row of Riders, she smirks, “Wow. Who knew red was your color, Cyprus?”
He attempts to maintain a stony expression, but his mouth still quirks.
“Apologies, my Lady, but Cyprus is still in training,” Dorsten answers on his behalf. “He isn’t permitted to converse openly with you.”
“Oh. Right. Of course, Lord Dorsten.”
Dorsten’s pale cheeks redden for no reason I can determine. I don’t like it though, and worry that I will not only have to keep my eyes open for undead and Trash City, but for other Alphas like him. I snap Brega’s reins and we start toward the gates. Uneventful, the trip will be. I’m sure of it.
I intend to be sure of it. I will that into existence.