Chapter 22 Azahara
Azahara
The morning sun streamed brightly through the window, carrying with it the scent of pine. Azahara briefly worried that she hadn’t noticed Kaed move from the bed to crack the window open, indication of just how out she was.
She hadn’t woken once after their intense connection the day before.
The exhaustion she had felt, along with the sheer energy she had expended with Kaed, had completely wiped her out.
But it was a good kind of exhaustion because she felt much better than she had in days, if not weeks—a renewed sense of life coursed through her.
Kaed was still wrapped around her, but they had shifted on the bed, somehow swapping sides.
His leg was nestled between hers, and his face was turned toward the pillow.
One of his arms draped over her stomach, while the other rested beneath the pillow.
They were both still naked from the night before, and she was grateful for it.
Be good…
“It’s not nice to stare,” Kaed said softly while slowly opening his eyes to look at her.
A smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t be so good looking, and I won’t.”
A low, rumbling laugh escaped from him before he pulled her closer. She let out a soft giggle as he nearly enveloped her.
“Five more minutes.” His lips brushed against her shoulder and the curve of her neck. “Or an hour…” A brush of his tongue against her ear sent chills straight down her arms and legs.
She bit her lip and wiggled her arms free to wrap around his neck. “Don’t start something you won’t finish.”
Kaed leaned up, locking eyes with her. “Oh, you’ll always finish, Red.”
A girlish squeal escaped her lips, and he playfully nuzzled his head against her, showering her face with kisses and moving down to her neck.
“Kaed, we should—”
“Do not move, or I will kill you where you stand.” Illyan’s voice echoed throughout the small cottage.
Kaed was already on his feet before Azahara could fully process what was happening. He hastily pulled on his pants and grabbed the first shirt he could find. She followed suit, throwing on shorts and a shirt, even though the air was brisk.
They hurriedly made their way out of the room, Azahara struggling to keep pace with Kaed. As they reached the halfway point, their eyes fell upon a Vaeragi.
It was the daughter of the leader who had ultimately killed Azahara. In response, Kaed placed a protective arm in front of her as they descended the final steps.
“I’d like to see you try, Fae scum,” she hissed, her hollow eyes fixing on the duo at the foot of the stairway. “I knew it.”
“Why the hell are you here? We had a deal!” Illyan lunged, a dagger in their hand.
“Illyan!” Azahara screamed, attempting to move toward them, but Kaed held her back. He gripped her forearm and pulled her behind him. “Stop!”
It wouldn’t matter; they were already in full kill mode. Azahara couldn’t blame them, as it had been her father who had ended her life in front of both of them. They were both seething with anger. Kaed’s arm trembled as he felt the temptation to attack.
The Vaeragi just laughed, swatting Illyan’s attacking hand and, with a flat palm, striking Illyan in the chest. Illyan was sent flying backward, crashing into the dining room table and demolishing everything in its path.
Kaed clenched his teeth and took a step toward the Vaeragi.
“Stop!” Azahara’s shout was so loud that the cottage seemed to shake, and a tremor of power vibrated against the walls.
Immediately and without hesitation, Kaed ceased but maintained his protective stance in front of her.
Illyan groaned, rubbing their head and staring at the woman who had just manhandled them.
“Tell us what you want,” Azahara said, stepping to Kaed’s side and glaring at the woman before them.
Zhal was stunning, a sun-kissed goddess with skin darkened by radiance.
She stood as tall as Illyan, if not a little taller, with distinctly human female features.
Her most striking feature was her hollowed-out eyes, gray as though stripped of color, and white and blue markings on her face and bare arms. Every muscle, from her shoulders to her legs, exuded physical strength.
“You,” she simply stated, leaving Azahara in disbelief. “I knew you were something different in the forest.” She took a step toward them, causing Kaed to tense. Illyan was slowly rising behind her, still clutching the knife.
“My name is Zhal. I am the daughter of the Vaeragi chief, Ku’luk.
Your mate killed my mother,” Zhal said, her words devoid of anger or pain.
“They attacked you, and you retaliated, as we would have in your situation. For my father and my people, I am truly sorry.” She lowered her head, her left fist coming to her stomach as she bowed.
“Sorry?” Kaed spat, his words dripping with anger. Azahara feared he might tear the Vaeragi apart right in her home. “He killed her!”
“And yet, here she stands.” She rose and gestured towards Azahara.
Kaed didn’t back down. “No thanks to you and your people.”
Zhal shrugged. “Fair enough. I’m not here for your forgiveness. I am here for hers.”
He wouldn’t speak for Azahara, but he inched towards Zhal as if to physically convey that there would be no accepting of apologies here.
“You could have killed me,” Zhal continued. “In the forest, you had the means to attack, even stopping him.” She gestured to Kaed. “And you didn’t. Then, nearly at death’s door last night, you fought my father like he was merely an ant, and you were the boot.”
“We could have killed each other that day,” Azahara corrected, recalling their intense encounter in the forest. “Yet, we did not.”
“We did not,” Zhal repeated. “Why?”
“There was no need,” Azahara replied. She seemed to relax a little, but Kaed remained tense. “Senseless killing only leads to more senseless killing.”
Zhal’s eyes narrowed at her. “I sensed you that day, that you were something more than what you appeared. Now that you have returned with the touch of Death, my suspicions have been confirmed.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a welcoming one.
Illyan shifted and waved their hand in front of them. “You will leave.”
“What is your name?” Zhal asked, disregarding Illyan completely.
“Illyan, wait,” Azahara called, and they reluctantly paused. “My name is Azahara.”
“Azahara, what?” Zhal pressed.
“I don’t use a surname,” Azahara said flatly.
Zhal grumbled. “Humans.” Her hand reached for the sword at her side.
That was all Kaed and Illyan needed to spring into action. Illyan lunged, while Kaed swung a hefty blow straight toward the Vaeragi’s jaw. Regardless of her gender, he would not allow her to harm Azahara again.
Azahara did not scream for them to stop this time. Whether Zhal was truly there to harm her, she was trying to demonstrate something.
And she did not disappoint. With a seemingly effortless display of grace and agility, Zhal swiftly placed her hand on Kaed’s clenched fist, redirecting its trajectory toward Illyan.
The knife was easily evaded, aimed straight for the Vaeragi’s heart.
Illyan, lacking any warrior instincts, had no clue how to wield the weapon effectively.
Their grip faltered, and Kaed’s fist connected with the Fae’s nose as he stumbled.
Once again, Illyan ended up on the floor with a bloodied nose, while Kaed turned to Zhal and reached for her throat, keeping a close eye on her blade held at her side.
Azahara kept her eyes locked on Zhal, shifting her gaze between her eyes and the blade she held dangerously close to the one she loved.
Kaed pulled Zhal down to her knees with a surprising display of strength.
“Kaed,” Azahara called out to him. “Wait.”
It appeared as if he was preparing to disarm her, but he stopped, though it was clearly difficult for him. His fist shook, and his body trembled with rage.
“Release me,” Zhal demanded through his tight grip on her throat.
“Your mistake was not using that blade,” he spat back at her.
“No. It would have been a mistake to use it on you.” Zhal’s eyes shifted past Kaed to Azahara. “I do not wish to die.”
For some reason, those words caused Azahara to swallow hard. A breathless sigh escaped her lips. “Let her go, please.” She walked toward him and placed her hand on his trembling shoulder. “Kaed...”
Kaed looked over at her. The stern expression began to soften.
“I know.” Azahara was not condescending to him but gave him a sympathetic gaze. “Thank you.” She knew how hard this was, but she knew Zhal wasn’t there to harm them; somehow, she could sense it.
“Don’t thank me, Red.”
Kaed released the Vaeragi, then wrapped his hand around Azahara’s neck, pulling her close into a tight hug. It was brief but needed, for both of them. Her arms returned the embrace before he pulled away.
“Check on Illyan; I think you broke their nose,” Azahara said, her eyes moving toward Zhal, who still knelt.
“They shouldn’t be trying hand-to-hand combat. It’s their fault,” Kaed replied, a hint of humor in his voice.
Azahara bit her lip. “Can you stand?”
“Of course, I can. Are you requesting that I do?” Zhal’s voice had softened compared to her previous interactions.
“Please,” Azahara replied, feeling like she was waiting for a command.
Zhal stood without hesitation, towering over Azahara. She stepped back, aware of the six eyes trained on her. She held up her sword, placing the blade in her hand while the other gripped the hilt.
“Azahara...” She paused, the awkward hesitation likely due to the lack of a full name on her part. “I, Zhal Utlzl Kakzox, swear by this blade. It will kill and protect in your name and your name only.”
“What—” Azahara stumbled backward.
“From this day until the end of my days. And if your day comes before mine...” Azahara was shaking her head in disbelief. Zhal continued without interruption, “I will end this life to protect and serve you in the afterlife. For this bond will be forever between Paradise and the Mother.”