Fifteen
Zidra
After we retrieved our packs and replaced our bedding—regretfully leaving the washing for someone else to deal with—I requested we detour to Ravensburgh’s messenger guild. While Kyrundar waited outside, I wrote a brief letter to Sajen explaining the attack by the wolvus and panthera, describing their mention of a ‘league’ ruled by an archon, and warning him to be careful. I considered telling him to stop investigating for his own safety, but I doubted he would listen.
After I paid for the letter to be delivered, Kyrundar and I bought some dried jerky and hardtack with my dwindling supply of coin and headed north. Restless and needing more movement than flying on Kyrundar’s hovering ice disks afforded, I requested that we walk for a while. To my relief, he didn’t argue. If he’d pointed out time was important, I wouldn’t have been able to disagree. Also a relief, he didn’t insist on filling the silence with more shaky analogies or apologies I didn’t know what to do with.
Maybe I had judged him too harshly. While he was correct that he hadn’t considered my feelings or desires, the thought kept pushing into my mind that I hadn’t asked him his intentions, either.
And why did everyone think I needed friends? Sajen, Kyrundar… Perhaps two people wasn’t actually everyone , but it felt like I was being attacked from all sides.
Two are better than one.
The words came from a memory of a teaching on Iskyr’s gift of community and commands that we help each other, but it wasn’t merely a memory. Not often did I feel—or hear—Iskyr’s prompting so clearly.
Guilt pricked me, not least because despite my claiming that I had forgiven Kyrundar, my outburst at the Blooming Lotus indicated otherwise. Certainly, I had heard before that forgiveness is often an ongoing practice, but I’d not had to actually, well, practice that before.
Were Sajen and Kyrundar right? Did I need to let other people help me more often than I did? Which, admittedly, was almost never, unless someone forced their assistance on me, like Kyrundar.
I glanced toward him. Sunlight highlighted his white hair and glinted on his silver earrings. The chains and dangling gems swung with his steps. The baldrics crossing his chest and the cut of his dark-blue tunic emphasized his lean, muscular frame. Had he always been so attractive? Or was the heartbond tampering with my perception? Surely I’d need to be using the heartbond for it to affect me.
Right?
Using the bond . What was a heartbond’s function, anyway? I didn’t dare voice my question. Besides not caring to admit I was thinking about the bond, I didn’t want Kyrundar to give me some ridiculous answer about it being like art or sunsets that are colorful for no practical reason.
“You know,” Kyrundar said, “I am getting the strangest sensations through the heartbond.”
I recoiled. “Stop accessing it, then.”
“I’m not.” He cast a smirk my way. “But I was getting the distinct impression you were thinking about me. Dare I say it—positively.”
My face burned like it had been enveloped in dragon fire. Clearly the purpose of the heartbond was to humiliate me.
A faint sense of displeasure rippled through me, but I knew it wasn’t from the elf.
No, Iskyr. I know you wouldn’t give couples a heartbond to hurt them. Not when your prophets taught that all relationships, especially marriage, should be founded on love that puts others first and does not harm.
Thankfully, Kyrundar and I had no relationship.
That was a weak excuse, but he had hurt me first.
Unwilling to let this line of thought continue, I forced a shrug. “I was thinking I’ve had enough exercise and am ready to continue this journey at a faster pace.”
“Oh, excellent!” He did a little jump, and snowflakes danced around his feet. “I’ve been struggling to keep my worries in check. The sooner we find Rouven, the sooner we can destroy that ice curse, and I’m not going to feel at ease until then.”
Because until then he was stuck with me? Or because he cared about me? Or was he just pretending he cared since I’d said he might like it if my shifting powers never returned? I found I didn’t actually believe it could be the last option.
Within moments, we were rushing through the air. I thought about sitting down, but if that were an option, surely Kyrundar would do it himself. Perhaps that would be too cold. My feet were colder than the rest of me, after all, although not enough to cause concern.
Some time in the early afternoon, we stopped in a village and bought small hand pies for lunch, saving the dried beef for when food wouldn’t be available to purchase. I frowned as I counted the few coins left in my pouch. We would have to count on charitable goodwill to get us passage on a ship unless something drastic happened before then.
Night fell before we reached the next town, so we stopped and looked for a place to make camp. Often I would sleep as a wyvern if I had to sleep by myself in the wilds. Not only was it safer, but it kept me warmer, too. It rankled that shifting wasn’t an option. I had a cloak rolled up in my pack that could double as a light blanket, and this late in the spring, the nights weren’t too cold. A few clouds drifted overhead, but none looked like they held rain .
While I dug my cloak and the hardtack out of my pack, Kyrundar set about building himself a snow shelter. I ignored him, trying not to feel the sting of knowing my magic couldn’t contribute anything. In my di’yar, I could breathe fire. Not that we needed a fire.
My fingers brushed against the flint in my pack, and a sardonic smile tugged at my mouth. I could light a fire in my di’ora, too, just as any elf or human could, even if flint and friction were less impressive. And, I supposed, if I had to be trapped in one state, at least it was in my true form. As discouraging as it was to be unable to shift, being trapped as a wyvern would be far more difficult. I’d probably have no choice but to return home, defeated and ashamed. At least in di’ora, I could blend in as a human.
“There,” Kyrundar announced. “Done! That should be sufficient space.”
I closed my pack and twisted around, still crouched, to peer at his snow shelter. It looked larger than others I’d seen him make before.
“Don’t look all confused. You always refuse to share, but that was when you could turn into a wyvern.” He waved toward the small entrance to the domed snow structure. “This will protect you from any wind or rain that comes up, and it’ll be warmer than out here—the nights are still chilly, don’t argue. You can’t afford to get cold with an ice curse in you. Most importantly, I won’t have to worry about whether you’re safe. Not in a self-important way, just…as a friend looking out for an injured friend.”
I glanced between him and the dome of ice. It looked cold, but he’d explained before that the packed snow trapped heat. His magic not only kept the snow from melting, it regulated the temperature inside and would alert him if anyone or anything tried to enter. But being inside would involve being in close proximity to him all night, with nothing between us. That felt different than sleeping on separate cots in the same room. More…intimate.
Besides which, a part of me still bristled at the thought of accepting his help. Whether because of my own stubborn pride or because I didn’t believe his sincerity, I wasn’t certain.
I stood to face him. Carefully, as if he might detect it, I reached for the heartbond. Once I had a sense of his emotions—currently mostly embarrassment and impatience with a simmering note of hopefulness—I posed my question.
“Did you mean it when you said we work well together? And about wanting to help me, not trying to use my skill to increase your own glory and not seeing me as an opportunity for self-righteous posturing?”
Kyrundar stepped closer, urgency in his ice-blue eyes. “I swear on Emperor Syrzin’s grave, my help was not given for selfish reasons. Not entirely, at least. I won’t pretend I didn’t also think we could bolster each other’s reputation. Maybe that’s selfish, but I promise I didn’t want to better myself at your expense.”
His resolve and honesty poured through the heartbond with crackling intensity.
“I’m sorry I overstepped in wanting to save you from perceived loneliness,” he continued. “I’ve never come to your aid or joined you on a mission or saved your life because I considered myself better than you. You’re worth my efforts, Zidra. You’re my friend. Honestly, I owe you my aid. Our friendly rivalry is the only reason I graduated from Harcos with honors. Possibly the only reason I was initiated into the Order of the Rengir at all.” His thoughtful expression broke into a grin. “Admittedly, our competition is also why I had to do extra homework to make up for disciplinary marks, but still.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “You would have found trouble without me. For example, I never hosted parties that caused half the academy to be caught out of bed after curfew.”
“Parties you never attended,” he said with a dramatic sigh. Then his eyes widened. “Wait, did you report us?”
I couldn’t help my snicker. “No. It felt unsporting to take such an easy victory, and you were always caught and ended up in trouble anyway.”
I found myself smiling. If there was anything good about the heartbond, it was that I was sure neither of us could fool it. The bond showed me Kyrundar’s true emotions as surely as it revealed feelings to him I would never have shared.
The heartbond said he had told the truth.
Had I been so caught up in my own pride and fear of how others perceived me that I’d never realized even Kyrundar’s competition had been an offer of friendship? Was I so terrible at accepting help that I alone had poisoned our friendship ?
If Kyrundar could apologize, surely I could. “I misjudged you. I have treated you poorly, believing the worst of you instead of respecting you as a brother-in-arms, and I am sorry.”
“Apology accepted, even if I’m unsure I deserve it.” He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, looking more sheepish than I’d ever seen him. “So…is that an agreement to share the shelter?”
I shuffled back a step. “I’d rather sleep out here. Wyveri like open skies.”
“You don’t sleep in houses in the Wyveri Islands?”
I winced at the stupidity of my excuse. “Of course we do—but in stone houses on the hills and cliffs. It’s different.”
Kyrundar opened his mouth, then closed it. “I’m sorry. I thought it was like sharing a room in a Haven, but I’ve made you uncomfortable. Do…you want your own snow shelter? I can make you one—”
“No, it’s fine.” I held up my hands to stop his protests. “Maybe some other time.”
“All right.” He blew out a breath. “I am sorry. Syl has told me many times I need to get better at reading women.”
I choked on a laugh. “You? The seductive rengir who enchants women like a snake charmer hypnotizes a serpent?”
Kyrundar’s jaw went slack, and something about the wounded look in his eyes silenced me. “I don’t… That is, I don’t mean to… No, this is ridiculous. You said something like this before, but where are you coming up with this slander? When have I ever seduced or even flirted with someone?”
I faltered. “Women are always flirting with you. Like Samina—”
“That isn’t the same thing!” He flung his arms wide. “I can’t control—wait, Samina was flirting with me?”
“Are you blind?” I tried not to let it bother me that Kyrundar appeared tantalized by Samina’s interest. “Women practically throw themselves at you.”
He shook his head. “I have admirers, yes. In honesty there are times I enjoy their attentions. However, I don’t purposefully flirt back, and I do my best not give any lady a false impression. I certainly have never seduced anyone. I’ve never even kissed a woman!”
We stared at each other, the red creeping over Kyrundar’s cheeks mirroring the heat in my own face.
“In hindsight,” he continued, “I suppose Samina has been trying to get my attention for a while. If I’ve encouraged her, it was unintentional.”
Unwilling to accept that once again, my mental image of Kyrundar was completely skewed, I crossed my arms. “So of all these women who admire and flirt with you, you’ve never wanted one of them?”
“No. Not seriously.”
“Why not?”
“They’re not—” Kyrundar cut himself off with a click of his teeth. His eyebrows knit together. Even though I wasn’t trying to sense the bond, a mixture of confusion and shock rippled from him .
“Not what?”
His lips parted as he searched for words. “They’re not who I want.”
The unspoken implication hung in the air, more terrifying than any monster I’d ever faced.
Finally, Kyrundar stepped back, his expression shuttering. “Good night, Zidra.”
He retreated into his shelter, leaving me with an unwanted fluttering in my chest and the lonely call of an owl in the dark.