14. Already Saved
Already Saved
As he stepped into the Resh’Agar’s wing, Kailorien staggered.
Not from fatigue, not even from the fading echoes of Vargrún’s violence still snarling through his blood, but from her. From the way she clung to him in unconsciousness. From the unnatural heat pouring off her fragile body, soaking through him like fire.
From the knowledge of what she’d witnessed.
From the terror wrapping like a snake around his heart.
His chambers welcomed them. Bare. No guards. No witnesses. Just stone walls knowing how to keep their silence. He crossed the threshold and pushed the door closed with his back. Carried her to his bed—the one place he never let another body touch—and laid her down.
She was sweat-slicked linen and fevered lightning. Her cheeks were flushed scarlet, and her thin dress was soaked through, parts of it translucent.
Shu’Khan’s voice echoed in his skull like poison.
She felt it once, and she will feel it again. Every time, Iridias.
How? How had she felt everything? Had she used her magic? Or was this some sick manifestation of the tether between the Sokar and the Resh’Agar?
No.
Impossible. Decades had passed since he’d brought her to Krystopolis. How many Estar rituals had he been a part of in that time? Not once had this happened. Not once had she been affected like this.
He turned on his heel, tearing off his robes and pants. Paint cracked and flaked down his chest, remnants from his hasty rinse in the Companions’ wing.
He moved—faster now—toward the bathing pool.
The water waited, still and silent. He summoned heat but didn’t wait for the steam.
Didn’t check the temperature or bother with Lustrals.
He stepped in, sank deep, hoping this time the water could strip the leftover truth from him.
His hands scrubbed, heedless of their strength, working to remove it all—paint, defiled skin, flashes of memories.
Sounds came back in shards. Companions crying out in rapture.
The drums. The taste of their submission.
The feel of someone’s throat beneath his hand.
A smile stretching his lips against his will.
And her.
He’d felt it the moment it happened, but hadn’t wanted to believe it. When she synched with him, climaxing beside him from across the chamber.
She’d burned.
He rose from the water in a surge. Breathing hard. Runes pulsing, he grabbed a towel, dried off with jerking motions, and threw on a pair of loose pants. Pulled them on like armor.
When he returned to the bed, she stirred, mumbling. Curled on her side, her skirts bunched halfway up her thighs. She’d come undone. Alone. Helpless. Overwhelmed by a Bond neither of them understood.
“Too much…” she said.
He knelt at the edge of the bed, unsure if he had the right to touch her. His hand hovered above her cheek.
“Auryn,” he rasped. “I’m here. I’m here now.”
Her lips moved.
Then came a whisper, “Kail…I saw it…I’ll stop it…I swear…”
She reached toward the empty air. Toward him.
He’d thought he could carry this. Could shield her from what he was. From what the Doctrine made him be. But she’d seen everything—seen him twist his body to pleasure the Companions. Seen him take them. Looked into eyes that weren’t his. Heard the voice possessing him.
And worst of all…
She still reached for him.
Losing hold of his restraint, he bent forward. Pressed a kiss to her damp brow.
“It isn't yours to stop,” he whispered, throat burning. “It’s mine. Mine to destroy before it ever touches you again.”
Her eyes opened. Glassy. Distant.
“Your earring…” her hand fumbled upward, touching the emerald teardrop that always swung from his ear. “You took it off before...why?”
He hovered on a cliffside, trapped between the abyss of truth and the security of a lie that could offer her peace—just some measure of calm in the chaos of her mind in this moment.
His hand stroked damp hair away from her cheek. He forced a smile. “You know I never remove them.”
“Oh,” she sighed. “I must have…dreamed it…”
His heart screamed.
She didn’t know. She’d thought it was him. Shu’Khan. Holding her. Whispering to her. Mimicking his voice. Letting her believe—
His hand wrapped around hers, and Kailorien leaned in—forehead to her knuckles, his breath ragged. Sweat poured from her in waves, the scent of the ritual paint and the Sahtra smoke lingering like a pall around her. Vargrún's presence—his power—had soaked into her like venom.
He rose, and moving with great care, he gathered her in his arms again. The bathing chamber was still warm from his earlier purge, water running and refreshing constantly in the pool. Steam clung to the tiles, swirling like memory. He kept his clothes on, unwilling to waste time with removing them.
And so, his atonement began.
Her gown floated like ghost-silk around them, clinging to her thighs, slipping off one shoulder. He tucked it back up, shielding what he could from even his own unworthy gaze.
“You shouldn’t have had to see that,” he whispered. “Not like that. Not ever.”
He dipped a cloth into the water and began to clean her.
Face first. Then her neck. Behind her ears.
Down her arms. Each stroke was silent penance.
Ceremonial paint had smudged her cheek, transferring from him to her.
A mark of shame—his shame—staining her purity. He wiped it away with shaking fingers.
She opened her eyes. “Kail…are we in the bath?”
“I’m just cleaning you, sweetfire. You’re soaked in sweat.”
And other things.
Unspeakable things I should never have allowed near you.
She pressed her cheek against his chest. “It’s alright. Now, I see…the truth of all you have endured…”
“Auryn—”
“Your guilt. Your pain. Even now, they weigh so heavy. I can feel them through the Bond, Kail.”
He couldn’t speak.
Didn’t know what to say.
“Please remember. The mask…is not you…” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. “Even if you don’t desire me like those Companions, I will stay. I’m not afraid.”
“Auryn, how could you ever think—”
“I’m not afraid,” she whispered again, softer this time, like a secret meant only for his heart.
Kailorien’s throat closed. “You should be,” he breathed into her hair, voice shredded. “You should be afraid. You saw the thing caged inside of me. The claws waiting to desecrate everything I love.”
She smiled, undaunted. “My heart sings when you touch me.”
He held her tighter.
“When you wore the mask,” she whispered. “I knew it wasn’t you. The sound was wrong. The shape. The silence under the rage.”
He shuddered.
“I felt it,” she continued, eyes fluttering shut. “Like screaming without sound. I thought… maybe if I reached deep enough, I’d find you again.”
Kailorien buried his nose into her hair. She had reached for him. Reached into the taint that was Vargrún—into the violence, the lust, the decay.
“You already did,” he whispered. “You found me.”
For a long time, neither of them moved.
The water stayed warm. Auryn’s fever hadn’t broken, but her shivering had softened. Her body, exhausted beyond measure, finally allowed itself to rest—if only in his arms.
“Let me finish washing you,” he said. “I’ll carry you back.”
She nodded.
He shifted, dipping the cloth again into the water, wringing it out with care. He washed her legs—just her calves and ankles, avoiding anything that might feel invasive. When he reached her knees, her hand caught his wrist.
He looked up, startled, but she didn’t pull away.
Her eyes were half-lidded, bright but focused. Aware.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please…don’t stop.”
His chest ached. “I won’t.”
She shook her head. Her fingers tightened. Her cheeks flushed dark.
“Touch me,” she whispered. “Not like before. Not like what that ritual made me feel. Touch me…the way you always do. So I remember which hands are yours.”
He hesitated. “Auryn…”
“I need to remember,” she said, softer now, her lip trembling. “Please, Kailorien. Help me forget the fear.”
His breath left him in a long, shaking exhale. She sought grounding. Safety.
“You’re sure?” he whispered, voice low, as if the steam might carry the words away. “You’re fevered. You’re shaking.”
“I know what I’m asking.” Her voice cracked, raw and brave. “You are the only thing in my body that doesn’t hurt right now.”
He closed his eyes. “Then let me remind you,” he whispered. “Your body is yours. Your pleasure. Your flame.”
She let her forehead fall to his. “Take it. The fear. Burn it out of me.”
He pulled her closer. Still cautious. Prepared to stop if she commanded it. His touch was featherlight against her thighs, up the curve of her hips, across the swell of her belly.
No haste. No demand. Just warmth, grounding, truth. Her hips arched into his palm, and he followed her rhythm, giving no more than she offered. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, the place where her pulse raced wild.
And when she crested—this time by choice, by him, not from stolen echoes—her whole body loosened, breaking free of the chains the ritual had clamped around her. Kailorien held her there, through every fluttering breath.
“You’re safe,” he whispered. “You’re mine. That thing won’t touch you again.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Because you touched me first. Before anything or anyone. Your face is the first I saw. Your hands were the first I wanted.”
“You are my world, Auryn.”
Kailorien didn’t move for a long time. The fire in her veins had dulled—not gone, but soothed. Quieted. Like a wild thing lulled in the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
Her limbs grew heavier, her thoughts softer, more scattered.
The Bond flared between them again. Cautious, he shifted beneath her, bracing her weight as he walked to the stairs in the pool.
Her arms stayed looped around his shoulders, her face pressed to his neck as though seeking shelter from the cold.
“Tired…” she whispered.
“I won’t leave you,” he murmured. “Let your body rest.”
He stepped from the bath, steam curling off their skin. He grabbed one of the large woven towels from the basin’s edge and wrapped it around them both as best he could, then carried her to the hearth and lowered them onto the thick furs beside it.
With care, he dried her limbs, her hair, her face. She was half-asleep by the time he reached her feet, murmuring soft, unintelligible phrases. Changing out of his own wet clothes, he laid down, climbing in beside her.
“Kail…”
“I’m here,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“I’ll save you,” she breathed.
His eyes closed.
“You already did.”