CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #2
Everything felt relatively untouched. My thoughts and memories sat in a long, empty corridor, with heavy white sheets thrown over them like they were precious collectibles. Every window in that corridor was boarded tightly shut, except… there.
On the precipice of my consciousness, so far down the corridor I could barely make out the details, sat a tall, glimmering archway, with billowy gossamer curtains drawn fully closed to hide what was on the other side.
Before it lingered a gentle, hazy presence.
Guarding. Ensuring those curtains remained closed.
It felt like the complete opposite of Maverick’s invasive prying.
I wouldn’t have noticed it if Kodhan hadn’t told me.
“She figured it was time, considering what you now know. And how often you may be in the presence of the king.”
With a hum of appreciation, I reopened my eyes, and stared blankly at the ceiling.
“Not that I need to be in his presence for him to shove into my head.” I would need to thank Theia when I found her.
“Is it taxing for her, using a constant magic like that on someone else?” Her magic technically didn’t belong to any element.
An anomaly to all I’d seen and read about.
But if she could do it, perhaps I could, too, if I won. I would only need to figure out how. Just like I would need to learn how to wield all the elements.
Wit was the sole thing left standing in my way. And yet, my work was far from complete.
The lines of Kodhan’s face drew tight. “It can be, in certain circumstances. When she uses her magic on multiple people at once, for example. But she’ll be alright, if that is also what you’re asking. She is exceptional at what she does.”
Protecting all four of us at once couldn’t be that simple. But if he placed his faith in her abilities, then I could only do the same.
“Brannon and Theia. Are they…”
Kodhan’s tongue darted to wet his bottom lip while he studied me, the simple act sending treacherous tingles down my spine. “Together?” I nodded. “Yes. And have been for a very long time.”
My heart warmed for them, but then instantly shattered into a million jagged pieces, slicing into my insides as I rasped my next breath.
“That’s terrible. And unbelievably sad.”
“What?” he laughed. “You don’t think they should be together?”
“No! It’s not that at all. Far from it. That kind of love is only found in stories.
Rarely does it ever make it outside of the page.
” My parents were the only other people I’d known to beat the odds.
To write their own story. “I’m happy they found it in this twisted kingdom.
I mean it,” I tacked on at the end to counter his sudden frown.
“I just can’t begin to fathom how they manage it—the constant awareness that one, or both of them, might not live to see another day. ”
They had every right to be occupied.
He lifted the opposite shoulder to the one my head rested on in a partial shrug.
Propping the upper half of my body with my elbow, I stared down at him. “Your lack of sorrow is disgusting. Those are your friends.”
“They made their own choices. And without a single regret.” He sat up as well, but instead of propping himself up with an elbow, he rested his back against the wall, locking both hands behind his head.
“We knew the risks. Of associating with a traitor to the crown, in writing our names down to come here, all of it.”
“It’s not fair.” Not for them. Not for Kodhan, either. Even as the Son of the Second, he wasn’t immune to Maverick’s wrath. “The three of you deserve full lives. Together.”
“And you don’t?” he asked sharply.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“You deserve to live just as much as we do.”
I averted his gaze, swallowing against the tightness building in my throat. “All I am saying is that I know how unforgiving grief can be. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
He considered my words—the sorrow lacing them—and sighed. “I’ve spent so long in its presence that grief and I are one and the same. I penned my name to be here in hopes that I could finally begin to part from it.”
“By watching your friends die?”
No reply. Kodhan’s eyes went vacant, lost in some distant memory.
Theia’s words came back to me on faint whisps. I have no thirst for power. Only to stop the suffering of the ones I love.
My lungs constricted to the point where I had to rub my palm across my chest to soothe the sudden ache. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so blunt.”
Slowly, he blinked. Coming back to himself. “Don’t be. I know it seems foolish.”
“It’s not,” I said quickly. “You care for one another so deeply. There’s something to admire in that.
” Even if tragedy waited to tear them apart.
Then, quieter, I added, “There’s nothing in that lonely temple that can compete against love.
Not magic. Not status, and certainly not power.
You’ve come here as winners already, I think. ”
A gentle smile graced his lips. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” It wavered when I failed to smile back. “What’s wrong?”
Despite myself, jealousy sprouted ugly, gnarled roots under my palm, still pressing against my chest. “It’s nothing important.”
His attention flickered to my hand. “If it is bothering you, then it is important.”
Letting go of my chest, I traced an absent pattern across the sheets instead. “It just never gets easier. Those constant little reminders of what it feels like to be alone.”
“You are not alone.” The tone was like a reprimand. Harsh. Unyielding.
“Not right now, obviously—”
“Not now. Not after Wit. Physically or otherwise, near or immeasurably far, Theia is with you. Brannon is with you. I am with you. You are not alone. Never again. Is that clear?”
My hand halted mid-air. Never again. Such certainty. It sounded like he knew, from the bottom of his heart, that there was a future for me after Wit. I felt the heat of his stare burn holes into the crown of my head. He expected an answer.
“Alright.” A weak response. But the overwhelming emotions pumping through my veins left room for little else.
Nodding, Kodhan studied me, my features, my bare collarbone that peeked out from where I still hadn’t buttoned my vest. “Here,” he murmured, removing both hands from behind his head.
He used one to push my hip down onto the mattress, coaxing me onto my back, and the other to pull his dagger from where I’d been leaning on it.
“That can’t be comfortable.” With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it, letting the hilt clatter loudly onto the floor.
Lips parting disbelief, I watched as he resumed his earlier position, stretching comfortably. He was fussing. It was so out of place for him that I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“How considerate,” I mused, settling back onto my side with a folded arm underneath my head. From here, all I could see was his exposed chest and abdomen. He hadn’t fixed his vest either.
Not that I particularly minded.
Many relied on their magic as their primary, if not only, source of strength.
But not him. My suspicions had been correct.
All of him was honed to perfection. He didn’t need blades, or magic, as weapons.
He was one. I repressed the urge to run my hands across his skin again. To feel each trained, corded muscle.
When I forced my eyes up, they latched onto the heat in his own gaze. A small shiver coursed through me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he ground out.
“Like what?” The question was far from innocent.
One, slow breath, released through his nose.
Like he, too, repressed a similar urge. To touch, to feel.
It made it seem like his hands were bound behind his head in chains, and not in a casual way to protect his skull from the hardness of the stone behind him.
His eyes flickered to the ceiling. Praying for what, exactly, I couldn’t tell.
“Never mind.”
After a few moments, his posture relaxed. But his mind didn’t. Wheels continuously turned behind his irises as he shifted his gaze back down to me. Contemplating. “Let me tell you a story,” he said, finally.
I laughed then. A full bellied, incredulous laugh that echoed across the four walls of the room. Kodhan’s expression forced it to a full stop. “What?”
“Your laugh. It’s the first time I hear it.” His tone was undecipherable. But it was rough around the edges, with an almost imperceivable hint of anguish.
“Well, this is the first time you’ve said something worthy of laughter.” Confusion scrunched at my features despite the lightness of my words.
He didn’t take the bait. It didn’t seem like he’d heard me at all. Those wheels kept turning.
So I continued. “The last thing I expected you to offer was a story.” I couldn’t help the second laugh that blossomed at the mere concept. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip to muffle the full extent of it. “As the esteemed Son of the Second, I thought those would be far beneath you.”
He remained silent for a few moments, still with that unreadable expression. Then, with a subtle shake of his head and a final cursory glance at my purple iris, he said, “Just humor me. It’s not like we don’t have time to spare.”
Before reality came crashing down on us again.
“Alright, fine. Tell me a story.”
I could’ve sworn he shifted closer.
“What do you know about the sun?” His breath tickled the crown of my head.
“The Sunstar, you mean?”
He simply hummed.
An odd question. But I answered honestly.
“I know what our tutors taught us when we were children. That one of the first Starlight Champions, Orthil Wirenth, somehow managed to absorb all its power. He believed it would give him enough power to vanquish Maverick, who was freshly crowned and still getting a handle on his gods-given magic at the time. He failed, obviously. Leaving us in permanent darkness and giving strength to the monsters roaming outside the Veil. His efforts were all for nothing.”