32. An Old Injury
K ael had let himself imagine, only once, what he might say if Aisling ever returned. The angry words he’d hurl at this human girl who had fooled him—who had used him—not once, but twice. He thought he’d let her go too quickly, too easily. He’d considered it on the second day’s ride toward Ilindor, letting different scripted scenarios unfurl in his mind, but none satisfied him. Not one of his imagined insults were biting enough, nor were his invented punishments harsh enough. He’d welcomed the distraction during the ride, but each version had felt hollow and trivial.
It mattered very little, though. He would never see her again, or if he did, it would be from across the battlefield as she marched alongside the Seelie Court in keeping with her prophesied destiny to destroy him .
But when he heard her voice behind him in the darkness of his chamber, the anger he had deliberately stoked inside his heart didn’t surge as he expected it would. Then, when she said his name so softly, it dissipated entirely.
Aisling had come back. She’d come back for him.
Once around midday, he awoke with a start, sure it had been a dream. Sure she had been a dream. So at the sound of quiet breathing by his bedside, his body reacted before his brain registered what he was doing, shadows leaching out painfully through his ruined skin and finding their way towards her exposed throat. But Aisling didn’t flinch, didn’t startle. She only took a slow breath and in an instant Kael was filled with that overwhelming calm she was somehow able to force into his being. This time, she did it without even touching him. Maybe she’d sent it through the shadows that slid silently from her neck, almost apologetic in their retreat. The raw red circle they left behind was glaring even in the pitch dark.
A part of him still expected her to recoil in disgust after that; longed for her to pull away and leave him be. But she didn’t. And instead of becoming angry or fleeing afraid, she just gently replaced her hand on his chest, tracing soothing circles there with her thumb.
Her touch, her voice, her very presence beside him was the lifeline Kael so desperately needed to haul himself out of the darkness. His pain began to recede, slow as the tide. He came back into himself, bit by grueling bit, guided by the press of her palm.
Aisling was still beside him the next time he woke. Fast asleep, her head was cocked to rest against the side of the chair and her features were relaxed save for a tiny furrow between her brows. He reached out to her. With the tip of his finger just a hair’s breadth from her skin, he traced the outline of her arm. Her shoulder. Her collarbone. Bolder still, her forehead. Her cheekbone. Her nose. He could have counted every freckle if the room had been brighter. Then, the bow of her lips. His stomach twisted with want.
Before he could break, Kael slid from his bed and retreated silently into his washroom to bathe and change—something he hadn’t managed to do for some time.
In the candlelight, he reached out into the magic that hummed always in the air, manipulating and molding it before letting the glamour settle back over his body. It came to rest gently atop his scars, filling and smoothing and concealing. It was imperfect, and thinner than that which he could typically cast and maintain, but it was a significant improvement. Neither the water in the bath nor the fibers of his fresh tunic brought the same chafing, searing pain they had since his collapse. Now, their contact with his skin felt more akin to running a finger through a flame than being bathed in molten heat.
Aisling still hadn’t stirred by the time he reemerged, so Kael busied himself quietly disposing of the rotting food and lighting enough candles to illuminate the room with a warm, golden glow. He made his bed. Fluffed and straightened the pillows. Anything to keep his focus off the nervous energy buzzing through him, turning his movements frenetic and graceless.
It was the sound of broken glass grinding beneath his feet that finally woke her.
When the pair noticed each other from across the room, Aisling rose from the chair defensively, seemingly just as prepared to face Kael’s anger as he had been to feel it. They stood facing each other down nearly for an eternity before Kael stalked towards her. Aisling stumbled in her haste to clear the chair and backed into the stone wall. Her eyes were wide and fearful.
Kael stopped a foot away despite the insistent tugging feeling inside urging him to move even closer. Though his heart raced, his voice came out steady and sure when he asked, “Why are you here?”
Aisling looked away, fixing her gaze on the lowest burning candle on his dresser. Kael waited and waited for her answer while she appeared to be giving each word great consideration as she pulled them together. His own mind filled her silence unbidden with fresh lies she might tell, or excuses. Perhaps Raif had threatened her to return, and it hadn’t been her decision at all.
Finally, she answered: “Because I care about you.” She said it simply and quietly and he could hear—could feel —the truth of it.
“That is a curse I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy,” Kael said wryly as he took another cautious step forward.
“You can’t make me leave again.” Aisling was looking up at him now. By the stubborn set of her jaw and the defiant tilt of her chin, Kael knew she wasn’t likely to yield. She reached out as though to brush her hand over his arm but appeared to think better of it and dropped it back to her side. “I’m not going to leave,” she insisted once more.
Something inside of him—that writhing, coiling thing that felt always ready to burst out of his chest, fracturing bones and tearing skin—settled. The vicious heat that seemed to pulse constantly through his veins cooled, just slightly.
“I would not ask you to.” Certainly his assurance was no grand declaration, but it was the best he could manage, and he hoped that for now it would be enough.
Aisling nodded, shifting like she was suddenly uncomfortable with their closeness. Kael took a step back and she swept her eyes over his exposed skin. “You look better.”
“Thanks to you,” Kael supplied. He pulled down the collar of his tunic so she could see that the scarring was almost entirely camouflaged. She once again looked as though she wanted to touch him, and once again pulled herself back. Kael berated himself momentarily for the way his pulse had quickened at the sight of her reaching for him, for the warmth that had crept into his heart uninvited. He had to remind himself to keep his distance.
“Raif told me that it’s from an old injury,” Aisling said. She paused then to let Kael fill in the rest. With a heavy sigh, he gestured towards the table. He pulled out a chair for Aisling to sit, then took a seat across from her. Golden light danced over her face, softening her features and making her eyes sparkle. For just a moment, Kael let himself appreciate the girl seated across from him. He’d never imagined the Red Woman would be beautiful.
“I told you,” he began, “that I was made king because of my magic. I was raised by the Prelates from birth to fulfill this role because of the gift that I was given by the Low One.” He tried to keep his mind on the present while he spoke. He didn’t want to get lost in the memories of that part of his life .
“A vessel,” she recalled.
Kael nodded. “I’ve been revered as a symbol of unmatched power all my life. The Prelates knew what I was capable of long before I did; they pushed me to my limits, again and again, under the guise of instruction. They—and the Low One—were the only family I ever knew. It was by their teachings that I learned greed.”
Aisling leaned in, listening intently. Taking in every word, formulating a clearer image of Kael in her head. He only hoped it wouldn’t be too monstrous.
“They were never satisfied, and so neither was I. I wanted more: to improve my power, to expand my kingdom. To overtake Wyldraíocht and see the end of the Seelie Court. I was young, and hot-headed.”
“And that’s changed?” Aisling teased gently, one eyebrow raised.
“Would you like to know what happened or not?” he chided. He’d missed her quick humor, though. If he had the energy, he may have even laughed.
She held up her hands. “Alright, alright. No more interruptions.”
“I was frustrated, as were the Prelates, by my lack of control. I could manage it, but it was inconsistent. I knew that if I could only harness my magic, gain permanent mastery over it, I could be ten times more powerful than even they anticipated. A hundred times more. That greed drove me down a dangerous path.” Kael began to bounce his leg beneath the table. Aisling slid one foot forward to rest the toe of her shoe against his boot, and he took a breath .
“You don’t have to tell me any of this, Kael. You don’t owe me an explanation.” Her gaze was sympathetic, devoid of judgement. He let it comfort him.
“I communed with the Low One; begged him for an answer. What he gave, I misinterpreted. I attempted to complete a blood rite to strengthen my control. All magic comes with a price, but Sangelas most of all. Its price is costly, and painful. This was how I paid.” He looked away from her then, gesturing briefly to the left side of his body.
“I pushed my magic to the very edge of what I could handle, and then beyond that,” Kael continued. “And what little control I had even then was stripped away. What I have now is a fraction of what I had before, at most. I regret it.” In truth, there were many things Kael regretted. Giving voice to his regret for sending Aisling away only made him realize all of the others that he’d so carefully concealed from himself over the years.
“I’m sorry that you’ve had to bear all of this alone,” Aisling whispered.
He gave only a tight nod. “We do what we must to survive without considering what it will be like to live with those things afterwards.”
When she finally, finally reached out to brush her fingers over the back of his hand, the tension fell from his shoulders. There was a secret part of Kael that had wanted Aisling to see him this way; wanted to know that she would still care for him even when she saw every broken, cruel, twisted fragment. The sharp edges that would, and had, hurt her. The blind fury that he wore as armor. To know that she could see through all of the bitter hatred into his core where that centuries-old storm raged, and that she wouldn’t fear the tempest that waited there.
And here she sat, undeterred and unafraid. Her empathy was a force of nature.
She smoothed her thumb across his knuckles. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sure it’s not easy to talk about.”
“You are the only one who’s ever known the full story,” Kael admitted. The Prelates knew only that he’d tried and failed; Raif knew only that he’d sacrificed a part of himself to become a stronger king. None but Aisling and himself knew of the blinding, hungry greed that had driven him to the ritual. And none but the two of them would ever know of his regret for attempting it.
“And,” he added before she could speak again, “you are the only one to have given me the control I’ve sought all along.”
Instead of responding, Aisling sat quietly, watching the candlelight play over their hands. Kael let her process in silence. Her face was unguarded when she was thinking; he could see the wheels turning over in her mind. Sadness flitted across her features, and hurt. Then resolve.
She stood, and Kael mirrored her action. The scrape of the chairs against stone seemed loud after their stillness.
“I should let you rest awhile longer,” she said.
Kael offered a tired half-smile. “Would that I could. I have left matters unattended for far too long in my absence. But,” he hesitated, letting that smile mask the panic that gripped his heart, “you’ll stay?”
Aisling nodded. “If you’ll allow it. ”
“Without question.”
She nodded again, already moving toward the door. Over her shoulder, she made to say something more, but Kael had already caught her by the arm and spun her back into his chest.
The bruising kiss he delivered stopped her from speaking further, punishing her for leaving. Punishing himself for making her leave. She froze, then melted. He curled his fingers around her jaw to still her there against him as he deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue between her waiting lips. He’d been starving for her: for the press of her skin against his, for the way she was so gentle with him despite the scrape of his rough edges. She could have been harsh or unkind, as he had been, but that wasn’t Aisling.
He felt the shift in Aisling’s body as her initial surprise quickly gave way to a surge of longing and she responded to him with a fervor that mirrored his own. Her arms wrapped around his neck as their mouths moved together with an almost desperate intensity, somehow speaking every unspoken word that hung between them. His grip on her tightened just slightly as he tried to anchor himself to this precise moment. Aisling’s mouth was warm and demanding; Kael’s breath mingled with hers and he kissed her with such hunger it frightened him. It didn’t seem to frighten her, though.
It was only with great reluctance that he relaxed his hold on her and let her settle back onto her feet. Her hands slid down to rest on his arms for balance, but he kept his around her waist. He wasn’t ready to let her go.
“I’ll send for you shortly,” Kael promised, pressing his lips to her forehead this time. Cheeks flushed and eyes shining, Aisling could only nod wordlessly before she took her leave.