13. Kiera
Chapter 13
Kiera
T o my utter surprise, the Darkhavens ask me no questions once I return to them. Instead, they merely look me over for wounds, and when Kalix stomps forward and bends low, I nearly falter and collapse in a heap onto the floor. Thankfully, I’m far stronger than that and I grasp the top of his shoulder, growling low in my throat, ready to demand to know what the fuck he’s doing as he gathers up my skirts and lifts them to reveal…
Shit. My mouth closes with a snap. I completely forgot about the snake that he’d ordered to stay with me as I’d gone into the room. The creature slithers off my ankle into his waiting palm and then beneath the cuff of his shirtsleeve. The animal had remained steady, silent, and completely still around my ankle even when I’d fallen to my knees. With a wince, I send a silent apology to the familiar.
Kalix trails a single finger up the line of blood he reveals with my lifted skirts. It’s already dried in some areas, but in others still wet. His finger comes away red and without a word, he licks it from the digit. My lips twist in disgust but not shock. I’m learning that there is no understanding Kalix Darkhaven.
Once that’s finished, Kalix releases my skirts and then stands to take my arm. He says nothing and Ruen and Theos are like silent shadows as Kalix tugs me toward the stairwell. Together, the four of us move back through the Academy grounds until we reach the North Tower without ever saying a word.
Somehow, I feel far more exhausted now after seeing the God Council than I had after having the brimstone removed from my neck. My eyelids are weighed down by the urge to sleep—a side effect of Tryphone’s power? Maybe.
As we enter the Darkhaven chambers, Kalix releases me to go to the window across the large living space where a bird taps insistently at the glass. One of Regis’ birds, I recognize a split second later. As Theos reaches for me now that Kalix has strode away, I rip away from his outstretched hand and dive across the room to the window.
“Kalix—” I have one hand stretched out as Kalix pops open one of the panels of the windows with a latch I didn’t notice previously. The bird flies inside and heads straight for me.
Halting in the center of the room right before the fireplace, I lift an arm and the bird drops down. The animal’s wings flutter lightly against my skin as its claws bite into the fabric of my dress over my forearm. I wince slightly but pull the note I see tied to its foot.
“What is it?” Theos asks, his voice growing closer as footsteps echo at my back.
“A note,” I say, struggling to flip the curled edges open with the bird still on my arm. I lift the creature, and it climbs onto my shoulder, allowing me the space to unroll the scroll. I read the small script there.
“What does it say?” Ruen’s voice comes closer and I ball up the strip of parchment in my hand on pure instinct, hesitating to answer him.
He knows everything now—what I am, who I am, and about the Underworld—but despite that, it’s hard to ignore years of training that tell me to keep my secrets. Midnight eyes narrow on my face. I purse my lips. One second passes then two.
Theos sighs, breaking the silence. “You might as well tell us, Dea.” His words are quiet, but unyielding. He seems to be the only one of them that I think actually gives a fuck whether I want to or not. Yet, he will still demand answers.
I close my eyes, shutting out the room and the three men eyeing me. One breath. Two. Three. I just stand there for several moments enjoying the feeling of having control over my own source of air. My limbs are trembling, I realize, when I open my eyes and look down at the piece of paper still clutched in my fist.
“Ophelia, Carcel, and Regis are leaving Riviere,” I say. “They’re heading to Nysa.”
“For a job?” Theos asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.” And now that sending me information has been compromised, because surely Ophelia expects that whatever they tell me will get to these three and Caedmon, I doubt they’ll say if I send a message back asking.
I stride over to the fireplace, the embers of the dead fire illuminating the barest bit as air wafts over the ashes and the lone log that’s inside, half burned and ashy. Without waiting for any of them to ask to see the parchment, I rip the paper into tiny little pieces and scatter it over the remains of the fire.
My head pounds fiercely, the dull ache taking up residence at the back of my skull and spanning outward as if it has little fingers clutching at any area of my mind it can reach. I sway on my feet and the bird on my shoulder flaps its wings, the barest hint of wind against my throat as it lifts up and away. Distantly, I hear the window latch reopen and the rustle of those wings growing further and further away.
Leaning over the hearth, I place one hand on the stones surrounding the inset of the wall and heave a great breath. “What now?” I manage to ask.
Silence meets my question and my lips twist in irritation. I’m debating on whether or not I have the energy to face them when I finally receive an answer.
“You stay here,” Ruen states. “Caedmon will send notice of what the Gods have decided and then?—”
“The Gods have decided to have me inducted as a Mortal God here,” I say, cutting him off as that throbbing in my head grows worse.
“What?” Theos barks. “They accepted you without punishment?”
I turn my head in his direction without moving the rest of my body and send him a baleful look. “Do you think they would have allowed me out of that room if they intended to punish me?”
He blinks as if startled by the question and his expression twists—part flush of what I assume is chagrin and part turmoil. “No,” he says after a bit. “I suppose not.”
“Nothing changes, then,” Kalix says, reminding me of his presence as he leaves the window and strides closer. Unwilling to keep my back to him, I release the stone and turn to face him, reclining onto the side of the fireplace. “You stay here and you attend classes with us.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows. Other than what it means to be inducted as a Mortal God at the Academy, no doubt his little familiar had heard all and relayed it to his master. I stare back at the forest green eyes that rove over me now.
“You’re pale.”
I grimace and admit, “My head hurts.”
Theos turns towards the door. “I’ll go get Maeryn.”
I reach for him, intending to stop him, but he’s gone before I can get another word out—the door shutting silently behind him. Fuck .
“Come, you should lie down.” Ruen takes my arm, startling me.
I want to argue. I want to fight against them and demand that he release me, but just as I go to do so I realize how fucking tired I really am. I nearly falter and go down on my knees again as Ruen tugs me away from the fireplace. Even though I manage to stay upright, it’s not without issue. I stumble along at his side, my feet tripping over one another in a way I’m not accustomed to.
I’m a damned assassin. Trained. Cautious. Strong. Why can’t I walk straight? It’s the simplest of tasks.
“Kiera?” Ruen’s voice sounds as if it’s coming down a long dark tunnel. My eyes stay fixed on the floor, my shoes winking in and out of my vision despite knowing I haven’t pulled my gaze away.
Cold dread slips through my veins and into the rest of my body. My ass hits something soft, but almost as soon as that happens, I start sliding. I’m going to slip right off whatever it is and onto the floor, I just know it. How fucking embarrassing.
Before I can, solid arms lift me as if I weigh nothing at all. My feet disappear from view entirely and no ground meets them as I’m hauled close to a wide chest. My hand slaps the rock-like muscle and my head sinks back. A pair of midnight eyes meet mine, the brows above them creased with … could that be concern? From Ruen?
“What did they do to you in that room?” The question is so quiet that I’m not entirely sure if I just read it from his lips or if he really whispered it.
Unable to hold my head up any longer, I let myself rest against him as the world starts moving around me. It takes a beat for my addled mind to catch up to the fact that the world isn’t so much moving as he’s walking with me—right towards the room I woke up in. Ruen carries me into the bedroom I know is his and lays me down on the bed. The skirts around my legs get tangled up when he tries to pry the sheets out to cover me and he finally gives up with a grunt. A low voice speaks from the doorway and his head turns towards it. I can’t hear what’s being said, though I think it’s Kalix. My ears seem to be filled with some invisible substance that feels like rushing water and everything around me is muffled.
Try as I might, the room swims around me and an imperceivable amount of time later, another familiar figure appears over me. I blink wondering belatedly when Ruen disappeared and Maeryn took his place. Her features are creased with worry as she sets one cool hand on my forehead.
She closes her eyes and then something warm emanates from the palm on my head. It fills me and lifts away the running water taking up space between my ears. Something pops and the water is completely gone. I can hear again. I flinch at the loudness of sound—from the crackle of fire in the hearth of the bedroom someone must have lit to the pounding of my own heartbeat.
Maeryn sighs and I look up as she opens her eyes once more and gives me what I assume is an attempt at a reassuring smile. It’s less reassuring and more tense, but I don’t say anything as she turns back to someone just behind her. My gaze flits over her shoulder as I spy Ruen with a thunderous expression.
“It’s just the aftereffects of having the brimstone removed, I think,” Maeryn starts.
“You think? ” He glowers at her. “What do you mean, you think?”
Maeryn’s shoulders bunch and though I can’t see her expression, I can tell by the stance she takes—the slight widening of her feet as she plants them on the floor and the tension radiating down her spine a moment before her low, annoyed voice enters the air—that she’s not happy with him.
“Yes, Ruen, I think. Perhaps you should try it sometime,” Maeryn snaps. I repress a snort. “I’ve never known or met anyone that has lived with a sliver of brimstone in them for years much less the decade Kiera had it. There’s no telling what kind of effects she’s suffering from. This is all new. Brimstone damages us as you are well the fuck aware. She’s still—” Maeryn keeps going, her words shooting out one after the other like daggers sailing through the air, but I stop on her last statement. My attention shifts up a bit more from Maeryn’s shoulder to Ruen’s face and the scar that cuts through the side of his handsome features. The thin, raised line dissects his brow and then, thankfully, skips his eye, before continuing to travel over his cheek as it tapers off.
The memory of the Council room returns to me. Something Azai had said—he’d had to kill one of his children’s mothers and then punish the child. Ruen had been that child. Is that scar from his father? My lips twist even as the cold, dead thing inside my chest pumps blood through the rest of my body. It aches for him.
I had only had my father for a short time. The blink of an eye in a God’s—or Atlantean’s—lifetime, but I knew for each and every moment of that time together that he would die before he would ever scar me the way Ruen’s had done to him. Shutting my eyes against that thought, I recline against the pillows and sheets, unaware of just how tense I’d been.
“I’m tired,” I say, the words croaking out to halt Maeryn’s tirade.
“Of course you are,” Maeryn says, sounding as if she is just as tired as I am. “Get some sleep. We can speak again tomorrow. Your head should feel better now.”
I open my eyes and peer up at her. “It does,” I admit. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”
Her lips curve into a light smile and she nods. “You’re welcome.” With that, Maeryn sends the others in the room a seething glance and leaves. My lips twitch in amusement, but almost as quickly as my burst of energy came back, it leaves again and my eyelids slide down once more.
It isn’t until I feel a masculine hand on my cheek that my eyes startle open once more. Ruen’s expression is pinched tight as he releases my face and then turns away. That’s it. Just that single touch and then he’s gone. They all are and I’m left alone in the room with sparks of something vibrant and hot sliding through my body.
With a shaky hand, I reach up and touch the same place he had. The heat is long gone, or at least, it should be. Yet, something lingers there beneath the surface and no matter how many times I rub my fingertips over the section of flesh on my face, it doesn’t go away. I fear it’s embedded into my skin now and I have no idea what that means.