Twelve
Kyrundar
After we buried the corpses, I turned to Zidra. “How is your arm feeling?”
Her snapped “fine” came too quickly. “We should continue if we want to reach Ravensburgh before dark.” A pout twisted her lips. “If I could shift…” Her fingers strayed to the bandage tied around her arm.
“Are you certain your wound is all right?” I pressed. It had to have been difficult for her, fighting the urge to face the panther and wolf shifters in her wyvern form as would have been proper. Not to mention shifters usually used some of the energy of their magic to heighten their strength and speed during a fight in their true form. “Your dragon fire didn’t—”
“I’m fine, Ilifir.” Zidra crossed her arms. “We need to talk to this friend of yours as soon as possible, so— ”
“Oh, we won’t be able to visit her tonight.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“We’ll meet her tomorrow. It’ll be better.”
“Better? How is waiting better?”
“It’s more polite.” I didn’t expound. It’d be much more fun for it to be a surprise. She was going to be upset, but a chance to relax would do her so much good. “Besides, you just said your arm is fine, so it’s not as if there’s any new urgency.”
She blew a long breath out her nose that probably would have been smoke-tainted if she hadn’t been keeping her dragon fire at bay. “It’s your contact, so fine. We’ll do it your way.”
I grinned and created two ice disks. Only after we set off did I risk reaching out along the heartbond to check if she was being honest. A simmering annoyance overlay a constant hum of worry. I glanced toward her, but her face was set in a stony mask. She did have an ice curse stuck in her arm, after all. It was fair to be worried.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to her concern than that.
We reached Ravensburgh after dark, but oddly, Zidra seemed more relieved than irritated by our lateness. As we walked to the Ravensburgh Haven, she kept to the edges of the streets and favored the shadows. Was she seriously that averse to being seen with me?
Iskyr, give me patience.
Voices, light, and the scent of baking spilled out of the rows of windows lining the front of the three-story wood building that was the Ravensburgh Haven. Zidra stopped so abruptly in front of the clothier’s shop next to the Haven that I bumped into her pack.
I stepped around to stand at her side. “Zee?”
She groaned. “I didn’t think about all the rengiri leaving Laedresh. There’s going to be so many of them here!” Shaking her head, she began to retreat. “I’ll sleep outside the city—”
I seized her arm. “I doubt it’s so full they have no beds—”
“I don’t want to face them!”
Something about the quaver in her voice that she tried to hide made me discard my initial intention of saying something dismissive or teasing. I eased my grip on her arm. “Why?”
Her face flushed and she ducked her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I took a breath to cool my frustration. “I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
After an agonizing moment of silence, Zidra raised her head. She yanked her arm free of my grip. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. Let’s go.” With her jaw set, she took off toward the Haven.
I watched her go, unsure of what to do. Perhaps I should let her enter by herself, but I didn’t think this was about not wanting to be seen with me. When I reached out toward the heartbond, I felt more shame and fear than mere embarrassment. If she didn’t want to face our rengir brothers and sisters, even if I didn’t understand why, I wouldn’t make her face them alone.
Zidra entered the Haven several steps ahead of me and let the door swing shut behind her, but it didn’t latch. The murmur of conversations hushed, and then a woman called, “Zidra! Congratulations on receiving the Merit!”
I still had our bond open. Her discomfort heightened further, and the sorrow I sensed confused me.
“Thank you, Samina.”
Understanding bowed my head. If it was the Samina I knew, she was a panther shifter—like the man Zidra had killed today.
I pushed open the door and then made sure it latched behind me.
“And Kyrundar!” Samina bounded to her feet, her smile widening. The thick twists of her black hair bounced around her shoulders. “How good to see you as well.”
“Always a pleasure, Samina,” I said as I moved to stand at Zee’s side.
Aside from Samina, four rengiri lounged on the plush cushions spread over the rug on the floor of the common room that took up most of the ground floor. The kitchen, pantry, laundry, and a large supply closet made up the rest.
Maybe only because I was standing so close to her, Zidra’s gulp was audible. A wave of anguish pummeled me so hard through the bond, I almost pulled her into my arms and asked what was wrong—but that would only make her angry.
“Are there any beds left?” Zee asked tightly.
Another rengir, Euan, nodded with a lopsided smile that pulled at his thick red beard. “The west-facing room at the south end of the third floor is empty. Obviously Kyrmaris won’t mind sharing.”
A few of the other rengiri laughed quietly. My eyebrows drew together. Had word gotten around? Did they know about the heartbond? Surely not. How could they know?
“No more than I’d mind sharing with any other rengir,” Zidra said lightly, but by her roiling emotions, she was not as unfazed as she was trying to appear. “I wish I could socialize, but I’ve had a long day and must retire.” She gave a curt nod and strode past the others toward the stairwell in the back corner.
Samina sashayed over to me with feline grace. “You’ll join us, won’t you, Kyr?”
I smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid not. It’s been a long day for me as well.”
“There must be a story there,” Euan said. He motioned me over. “You love to tell a good story, and we’d love to be the first to hear a new Kyrmaris tale.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “I think this particular tale is just getting started. I should save the telling for when I know the ending. Good night.” I nodded and followed Zidra upstairs.
She must have nearly run, because by the time I reached the room, she already had her armor halfway removed. While she finished, I took out my teardrop and chain earrings and set them on the nightstand that was tucked into the corner between the heads of two cots. At least these rooms were large enough the beds weren’t stacked. I didn’t care for stacked bunks. Too great a risk of whacking one’s head.
Zidra picked up her pack and moved to go behind the dressing screen across from the cots.
“Wait.” I pointed to one of the beds. “Let me check your arm.”
She drew back and opened her mouth, but then her shoulders caved. Her gaze avoided mine as she moved to sit on the bed without a word. Lips pursed, I sat next to her and untied the bandage.
The wound looked worse, and I had to work to keep my expression neutral. I’d done my best to use my magic to keep the cold from touching Zidra’s skin, but the edges of the puncture wound had taken on a patchy blueish tinge. Frostbite would kill her skin, and the longer it affected her, the harder it would be for any healer to fix the damage.
“It’s worse.” Zidra’s whisper wasn’t a question. “It’s been getting colder since the fight.”
I jerked my head up to glare at her, but she wasn’t looking at me. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Anyone could have seen you tending me on the side of the road. It would have raised questions I don’t want to answer.”
I contained my eye roll with effort. “I know you’re displeased about the heartbond, but no one is going to guess at that if they discover my magic is in your arm.”
“This isn’t about the bond!” Zidra stood, and her arm slipped from my loose grip. “That panthera—he mentioned an archon, but then he said he wasn’t a member of any order that worshiped Iskyr.”
I frowned, disturbed at the thought. There were few restrictions on how people in the empire worshiped or what exactly they believed, but not honoring the creator god at all? It was incredibly rare.
“He said their archon thought I might not be able to shift. They suspected I couldn’t shift, and they attacked in di’yar anyway. They saw I did not shift, which doubtless confirmed their theory, and yet they did not shift to di’ora.”
Indignation on her behalf made my skin prickle. “They dishonored you—”
“It was more than dishonor!” She whirled to face me. “Don’t you see? They saw me as weak. Not worth honoring. Perhaps they are right. If I were wise enough, I wouldn’t have been ambushed. If I were fast enough, I would not have been struck by the ice curse. If I were strong enough, I could have burned it out myself. And now…now I can’t shift. It could be argued I dishonored them by not shifting.”
“But you couldn’t—”
“Exactly! I am half a wyveri. Less than that, as that fight…” She angled away, and her head sagged forward. “It was harder than it should have been.” Her jaw worked. “I don’t want anyone to know. I can’t afford for anyone to know.”
I tried to understand her fear and shame. Certainly, if I found myself unable to wield my magic, it would be a blow, but I could still fight. And… “You’re acting as if it’s your fault. You acted in good faith at Grivolen, and with reason. I distracted you; you said that yourself. You were caught by surprise by the curse because you thought he was attacking me. Your inability to shift is no more your fault than catching a cold. No one will blame you.”
Zidra laughed, a hollow, empty sound. “You’re not wyveri. How could you understand?” She went to the other bed and sank onto the edge of it. Her fingers curled around the edge of the mattress as she leaned forward. “Your people were not exiled off the continent for the actions of a king so heinous his line was eradicated and his name was wiped from history. Your people do not still mostly keep to their islands, even though the banishment was lifted after only a century, because of how much everyone else distrusts your kind. If they aren’t buying wyvern scales or hunting dogs from us, they want nothing to do with us. An ice elf can’t understand the thin line between respect and fear and how it both isolates and protects us on the continent. A wyveri who can’t shift is no longer the strongest and most feared of the shifters. The derision and suspicion some feel for my people…it is their fear that stops them from acting upon it. I am not merely weak; I am little more than a magicless human.”
I nodded slowly. I’d never admit it, of course, but the first time I saw Zidra as a wyvern, I almost hid behind another student. She was terrifying and spectacular. I’d certainly never choose to fight a wyvern, shifter or not. Another thought occurred to me—if Zidra had been able to access her wyvern form, would the shifters have fled? Would they have dared take on a creature larger and stronger than themselves, with armored scales and the ability to breathe fire and carry her foes into the sky? Such considerations would only reinforce her fears, however.
“If people know…” She gulped. “What if more people than just assassins want to come for me?”
“No.” I shook my head fiercely. “Zidra, you are a beloved member of the Order. People respect you not merely for your powerful wyvern form, but because you are a model rengir. People cheer for you and tell stories of you and part with their precious gold for things you might have touched. Iskyr knows how I pray for a quarter of your humility and tireless dedication.”
She whipped her head up to stare at me. “You what?”
My face heated, but I raised a shoulder in feigned nonchalance. “I admire you, Zidra. Always have. Sometimes with a heaping side of envy, and that admiration also drove me to try to one-up you as a student, but you’re a good rengir, and a good person.” I smiled self-deprecatingly. “I know, because when I volunteered to help the Brothers of Beneficence serve the destitute while we were studying at Harcos, I was competing with you. The perfect model of an aspiring rengir. You helped the Sisters because you wanted to.”
Instead of looking reassured or smug, Zidra hunched. “I didn’t volunteer with the Sisters of Beneficence for altruistic reasons—although I’ll admit, by the time I finished, the Sisters’ eagerness to serve in even the most ignoble capacity had made a deep impression on me. But I did that as penance. ”
“Penance?” I sat up straighter. “Whatever for?”
“Erm…” She cleared her throat. “You kept beating me at footraces and obstacle courses, and I was embarrassed and angry, so I…put that ribbon snake in your bed.”
My eyes nearly bulged out of my head, and then I broke down in laughter. “That was you ?” I flopped back on the bed, tears leaking from my eyes. “Perfect little Zidra Eilmaris put a snake in my bed!”
“You didn’t think it was funny then. I heard your scream all the way down the hall. Which was gratifying until I went to chapel and naturally the passage from the holy text was on living in unity and peace.” She wrapped a curl around her forefinger. “Of course, did I apologize or truly put aside our rivalry? No, although I did try, for a while.” She glared at me, although it held no heat, and I swear the corner of her mouth tipped up. “You’re simply too infuriating to let win.”
I shook my head and snickered. When I checked on the heartbond, I was pleased to find her mood had lightened. “Well, come back here and let me see what I can do about you not listening to the physician’s orders.”
Zidra huffed. “You try fighting without accessing your magic even a little bit.” But she sat next to me and offered her arm.
“Apologies if this hurts.”
“If you can take it, I can.”
My gaze snapped from the wound to her eyes, but she quickly glanced away.
“You mentioned it hurts you, too.” Her voice quieted. “ I haven’t… I should have… Thank you.”
Two little words, and maybe I should have been annoyed it had taken her so long and been so difficult for her to say, but instead, the whispered gratitude warmed me. Maybe because I knew I couldn’t fully understand how terrifying this all was for her. On top of being unable to access her magic, she had let me work ice magic inside her, where it hurt her and could clash with her dragon heat. In my frustration with her stubbornness, I hadn’t considered the immense trust this must take for her.
“Thank you for trusting me to do this.”
“I don’t have much choice.” But her words lacked the bitterness I’d expected.
I focused on the puncture mark. Once again, the unnatural and aggressive cold of the curse burned and warred against my own magic. If I concentrated, I could also feel Zidra’s dragon fire simmering in the background. Perhaps she, consciously or unconsciously, was holding it back. Or maybe it had something to do with our heartbond, so the magics recognized each other? An interesting possibility, but not worth mentioning.
The ice curse had spread, but thankfully not much. I pulled it back as close around the injury as I could without passing out from the strain and pain—if I fainted, I’d lose control, and Zidra would die. It didn’t take long to ensure my magic was once again shielding her and locked tightly around the curse, but it felt like a lengthy battle. I released her arm and leaned back.
“Done. ”
“Thank you.”
Despite my concern over how the curse had spread, I smiled at her sincere acknowledgment. “I know it’s hard, but you need to make sure you keep your dragon fire moored as much as possible. We’ll need to avoid any excitement or fighting until we find Rouven.”
Zidra snorted. “That may be difficult with a league of assassins hunting me.” She bit her lip and glanced toward the door.
“No one is crazy enough to attack a Haven full of rengiri,” I reassured her.
“I suppose.” She focused on her hands folded in her lap. “But you’ve already gotten caught in the middle of this twice. What if they send more assassins and other people get hurt, or worse?”
“Please.” I put on my most confident, winning grin. “We’re Kyrmaris! Recipients of the Emperor’s Merit! No assassins stand a chance. They’ve failed twice. They’ve probably given up already anyway.”
That had been the wrong thing to say based on how Zidra wordlessly went behind the screen to change into a loose, flowy shirt and pair of trousers. She didn’t acknowledge me as she climbed into the other cot and settled in facing the wall.
My spirits fell, and I resisted the urge to reach for the heartbond again. She wouldn’t appreciate me spying on her emotions so often.
I changed into a pair of linen sleeping trousers, and then I blew out the candle mounted on the wall and felt my way to my own cot. After a moment’s hesitation, I whispered, “Good night, Zidra.”
Several heartbeats passed in silence. I smothered my hurt and closed my eyes.
Then, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it…
“Good night, Kyr.”