Chapter 44 Kane #2
It takes me a moment to realise she’s agreeing. I nod, like I planned this. Even though I hadn’t planned anything. Not a single thing.
I step closer, holding my hand out cautiously, and she places two fingers in my palm, and that’s it. She leads me out to a smaller room, grabbing a jacket from a chair—with just those two delicate fingers curled in my much larger hand.
That’s all.
That’s enough.
Enough to pull me along. Enough to command a demon capable of tearing the realms apart.
Once she was afraid to brush against me and now, with nothing but two fingers, she leads me like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Like it’s nothing. Like she owns me.
Because she does.
I stare at our joined hands in silence, possessiveness curling low in my chest, my world narrowed to that small, perfect connection.
She clears her throat and I remember I’m supposed to be flitting. That’s why she’s touching my hand. I flit to my brother’s empty office, tightening my hold on those two fingers, then flit again.
The capital is always alive, tonight should be no different, but somehow, it feels brighter, sharper. Because she’s here.
Light spills out from shop windows, painting the streets in warmth and shadow. The hum of voices and distant music drifts on the cool evening air. Her head tilts up when we pass a cluster of floating lanterns bobbing above us, her free hand brushing along the rows of cherry blossom trees we pass.
Jasmine takes it all in, her face lit with awe.
And I drink her in.
Every tiny thing.
She likes it. I think. The noise, the colours, the chaos.
I hate it. Too many people, too loud. Too open.
When she spots a sphere of light ahead, she drifts towards it, mesmerised, and lets go of my hand. I stare down at my empty palm, then slip it into my pocket, trying to trap the heat of her touch.
Even though the streets are crowded, no one comes near us. Or her. Glances our way are brief and wary, patrolling enforcers stiffening when they see me—some daring a double take, others dropping their heads at once. If she notices, she doesn’t say, too enraptured by the sights, scents and sounds.
She pauses, watching as more tiny spheres of light gather and hover above her hand, but her gaze keeps darting past them, wary of the crowd pressing around us.
I close the short distance instantly.
“Is it always… like this?” she asks, gazing up at me. Her voice sounds a little too breathless to be just awe.
I concentrate. “Is it too much?”
She doesn’t answer immediately, which is an answer. My caution to touch her too freely is smothered by the need to protect. I drape my arm over her shoulders and draw her in, pressing her against my side, indulging in her heat again.
“No one will come near you,” I murmur. It’s meant to reassure, but it comes out sharp, possessive.
I don’t correct it.
Her hot palm finds my sternum and I bite back a groan. Thankfully, she’s facing ahead.
“How do you know that?” She’s still a little breathless, but it’s no longer just panic as her fingers curl into my shirt.
Still walking, I point to the right. A cluster of beings, huddled close with voices too soft to catch, freeze when they realise we’re looking—when they realise I’m looking. They flinch, then scatter like rodents.
“They’re afraid of me.”
The heat from her palm intensifies. “I’m not,” she says, immediately. So certain.
I glance down at her as she looks up. There’s a soft smile on her face, but there’s a challenge in it too, a spark in her gaze like she’s daring me to contradict her.
“Maybe you should be,” I murmur, voice rougher, lower, something primal threading beneath the words.
Her smile only widens. “Is that because you’re an idimmu?”
Hearing her say that word, in her dolce voice, unafraid on her lips, stops me cold.
I wasn’t prepared to hear it. Hadn’t in so long.
“Ezekial,” she answers the unspoken question, her expression becoming wary. “He told me that word, and he also explained the whole immaru thing…”
The old language never sounded more beautiful.
Her eyes widen, darting over my face, as though afraid she’s upset me. No, I’m only staring because I’m in awe of her.
“I’m glad he told you,” I say, and watch her concern melt into relief. My silence made her worry, and I need to rectify that.
“My brother and I have been in this district long before the temples were even constructed. Most beings who reside here know of us—my brother as a judicious Council member, an enforcer who helped shape the district into what it is today. And me, as his brother, part of his unit, an idimmu…” I catch the flicker in her gaze, like she felt the same thing I did when she said that word.
“For the enforcer recruits, I’m also considered a… strict teacher.”
We start moving again. My arm stays firm over her shoulders, keeping her pressed close, my fingers brushing hers so she can’t slip away. I steer her through the crowd, my glare cutting into anyone who drifts too near, shadows curling out to drive them back.
The message is clear to everyone: she is mine.
“Strict? Well, you are good at giving orders.”
I huff out a small laugh, then feel her turn beneath my arm, tilting her face up to mine. Her lips curve into a teasing smirk as she rises onto her toes.
“Do you like it when people obey, Kane?” she whispers. Taunting me, daring me.
My shadows flare, dampening the streetlamps and drifting spheres of light.
“Yes.” Darkness bleeds into my voice, and I can’t stop looking at her mouth. “But I also enjoy disobedience.” I catch her gaze as it darkens, then lower myself until we’re level. “I like breaking things.” My shadows brush her cheek. “Tearing them down.” Over her lip. “Piece by piece.”
Her mouth parts, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.
“Watching things fight, and fall.” My hand slips around her waist, drawing her closer until our lips almost touch, her heated breath against my skin. “And they always fall.”
I feel the tremor in her breath, betraying how torn she is between stepping back and closing the last inch between us. The red of her eyes burns brighter against the dark threading through, pulling me in like a desperate moth—
“Good to know,” she murmurs, lingering, gaze sweeping from my mouth to my eyes at the darkness staring back at her, starving for her.
Then slowly, she slips back beneath my arm, my hand dangling over her shoulder. She catches it, threading her fingers through mine, and walks on as though nothing happened.
I bite my tongue, but can’t hold back my smile. I’ll remember every act of defiance, and I’ll savour breaking them.
***
Silence settles between us, the busy city blurring into the background as we turn the final corner and reach the promenade.
Her fingers slip from mine when she sees it, and I feel the sharp absence instantly. She steps ahead, towards the edge, hands curling around the metal railing.
The lake surrounds the district in a semi-circle. A man-made expanse of water designed to ensure only one side is accessible by land.
Far in the distance, I find the transparent barrier, crafted by several air elementals. Its shimmering essence bends the air, hardly noticeable, I only see it because I know it’s there.
“It’s beautiful.”
I’ve walked this promenade countless times over many decades, especially during my recent patrols, but never once have I stood still long enough to truly look at the lake. Never have I considered this man-made feature as anything more than a tactical defence.
Yet now, standing beside her as she looks at me with eyes so wide, filled with glee and wonder…
I have to agree.
I’m desperate to show her more. So much more. Places forgotten by time, untouched by others. Just for a chance to see that look again.
“So, this is where the river connects?” she asks, facing the water again. “Must’ve taken a long time to make it run through the atrium.”
“Not when you have skilled earth elementals,” I explain. “Most of the buildings you see in the district were created by earth elementals. A few hours to create a house, a day for more complicated structures, creating a new channel from here didn’t take long.”
“Wow,” she breathes, smiling as she takes in the view. “So how long did the Council building take?”
“A version of it was already in place when we arrived, but it’s expanded since. The atrium was part of the expansion.”
So were the cells, but I don’t say that. For both our sakes.
She turns, leaning against the railing to look up at me. “Has Kacey always worked there alone?”
I nod. “Necromancers are known for manipulating death, but some can heal too. At first, Kacey wanted to help heal others in the infirmary. It didn’t last.” Her brows furrow sadly, knowing Kacey’s affliction with people, and I hate it.
“Julien proposed she tried healing animals instead, but the other workers didn’t agree. ”
Her expression twists into confusion, then an angry frown pulls her features. “Why? She’s a gifted healer, and she truly cares for the animals.”
“Earth elementals believe they are directly connected to nature. That it’s their role to care for the world and its creatures. They see necromancers as the opposite of everything they stand for.”
I see her anger brewing at the injustice, the prejudice. Just one small example of the bigger issues in this world.
“Earth elementals draw their power from life. Necromancers, from death.”
“So what, they just refused to work with her because they didn’t like what she is?”
“Ezekial offered them a choice. Stay and work with Kacey, or take a position in one of the other atriums.”
Her scowl softens into something softer, sadder. “And no one stayed.”
“Divisions are hard to conquer. They take time to overcome.”
She slowly nods, accepting my words with a sadness in her gaze I want to eradicate.
“What about us?” she murmurs, soft and unsure, but her eyes never leave mine. “Immarus and idimmus. The Light Realm was destroyed by creatures of the Dark. We were enemies once, weren’t we?”
I lean in, bracing my arms on the railing until our faces are inches apart, close enough to feel her breath stutter.
“The last thing I will ever be is your enemy,” I vow.
She just stares, her pupils larger. Then she glances away, back to the lake with the smallest shake of her head.
“To think I was told to fear enforcers, the Council, this district.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “And now…”
She trails off, remembering her past. What she was told to believe.
“I trusted them,” she says, a soft sheen in her eyes. “Implicitly. I never doubted anything they told me, but they lied.”
“They must have had their reasons.”
Her head snaps to me, eyes wide, mouth parted.
“People don’t spread fear and hatred without cause. There’s always a reason. A past experience. Trauma.”
Her brows softly furrow. “Why are you being so… fair?”
I stare out at the lake, at the vast body of water that once held no interest to me. “I’m trying to see things from another perspective. I’ve been told I can be… stubborn.”
From my peripheral, I see her lean forwards on the railing too, a slight smirk curling her lips at my comment.
I listen to the steady rhythm of her breaths, feel her heat, try to pretend I’m admiring the view when really, I’m looking at her.
I’m always looking at her.
She lets out a soft exhale. “When I woke up inside The Inferno, with no memories of who I was, they promised they’d help me. Said they’d look for answers. And I believed them,” she scoffs, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. “I was so naive, so gullible, stupid—”
“You were alone and vulnerable, they were the first safe thing you found.” I have to interrupt, because I hate the way she diminishes herself.
She stares at the side of my face, possibly at the muscle I feel pulsing in my jaw. Whatever she sees, it stops her self-deprecation.
“I don’t think they ever looked,” she quietly adds. “I don’t think they ever really tried.”
“Ask them,” I say, and we both turn to face each other, her burning eyes searching mine. “In five days, when the barrier is taken down...” I nod towards the still waters, where the faint shimmer of the translucent dome catches the last light. “Ask them.”
“And what if they just lie?”
“They won’t.” My tone is firm, gaze locked.
“They’ve lied for five years, Kane. Only when you guys showed up did they start telling me some truths. And if you hadn’t, I probably would’ve spent the rest of my life there, living with those lies.” She swallows, seeming to look past me. “Or the Green Cloaks would’ve taken me and—”
My darkness moves before she finishes. The thought of losing her, even hypothetically, it’s too much. Dark slivers reach for her cheek, coaxing her to me, bringing her under my control just enough to take her from that memory, and to remind her she’s mine now.
That I always protect what’s mine.
“We did come. We did find you,” I murmur, my fingers replacing my shadows against her skin. Her cheek pushes into my touch, her warmth seeping into my cold. “When they come, ask them anything you want, and they will tell you the truth.”
“But how do you know that?” Her eyes narrow, voice a little breathless as she tries fighting the calm I know my touch brings.
Because she has the opposite effect on me. She makes me feel alive. Warm.
Hungry.
“Because now, you have us.” Our eyes lock, and a breath stutters from her lips. “Let them try and lie with the four of us standing beside you.”
A single shadow traces the skin beneath her lower lip. I lean in closer, my voice lower. “And if necessary, we have other ways of getting to the truth.”
“Like a truth serum?” she queries, but I remain silent and she moves a little closer. “That’s what you mean, right?” Her innocence is refreshing, strangely addictive.
I don’t respond with words, only tilting my head slightly to imply an alternative.
“You don’t mean…” She blinks, her mouth parts. “Please tell me you didn’t just casually suggest torture.”
I say nothing.
“Kane.” The way she says my name, a little scolding, a tiny bit amused, is ridiculously appealing.
“You said not to tell you.”
Her lips twitch. Once. Twice. Then she laughs, brief but unguarded as if she can’t stop it. “I guess, coming from you, that’s kind of sweet.” Her hand lifts, fingers brushing over mine.
Fire cascades through my body.
“Thank you,” she says, then scrunches her nose. “But no torture.”
I glance at her lips. “Sai will be disappointed.”
She laughs again and my heart pounds. I did that. Sai would be proud.
Then her smile fades into something softer as she takes a small step back, then another, but her eyes linger on mine.
There’s a silent challenge in that gaze, like she’s daring me to follow, or more accurately, already knowing I will.
When she turns away with a teasing smirk, trailing her fingertips along the railing as she goes, my shadows and I follow behind.
I will follow her anywhere.