80. Kye #3
Maren tilted forward, wrapping her arms around Pheolix. “Kazimir holds an office at the embassy now. He said I could send you letters there. Promised to read them for you.”
Pheolix let her embrace him, his fingers stroking her tousled hair. He smiled sadly at her as she pulled away. “Ah,” he said, recognizing her scent. “Little cockroach.”
Maren laughed softly, nodding. I reached for his hand, folding it inside mine, waiting for overcast eyes to swerve toward me. “Take care, Pheolix.”
My arm wrapped around Maren’s shoulder as we watched him step in beside Kazimir, a soft shadow between his brows. The rain had begun to slice through the sunshine again, and he held up a hand, catching drops in his palm.
“I’ve always loved the rain,” he said to Kazimir. “I can’t remember why.”
Kazimir gazed at him patiently. The Rivean’s throat worked, and he stepped into the driver’s seat, stretching his hand out to guide Pheolix up the bench alongside him. “Maybe you’ll remember later.”
The guards escorting the cortege moved into position as Kazimir clicked his tongue for his horses to move. Wheels groaned, metal voices squealing against cement and stone. The wisteria bloom Maren had fixed flopped down again.
The rain thickened, and we all remained standing there, watching the procession begin to wind away.
“Wait!”
Heavy thuds fell behind our backs, splashing in puddles.
A blur in the shape of a running woman fell over my shoulder, then past me.
The carriages slowed to a stop, and Cebrinne skidded to a halt alongside her twin’s coffin, chest heaving as she gulped down the rain-slicked air.
She took a moment to pant, hands shaking.
Then tucked something inside the carriage’s open window.
A book, I thought, though I wasn’t sure.
Cebrinne kissed her fingers, pressing them to the varnished box.
Her mouth moved, though I couldn’t hear her words. Whatever they were, Maren knew them. She watched with tears in her eyes, mouth moving as well. Cebrinne stepped away to straighten her dress, weaving to the front carriage.
“Get down here and hug me goodbye,” I thought I heard. My attention severed as Ano, breathing hard, slid in beside his daughter.
“She changed her mind,” he said, his voice raspy and warm.
Cebrinne appeared again, her mouth tight but a smile in her eyes.
She wove her way to Ano’s side, and we all stood in silence, watching the carriages begin to shrink their way down the northern road, until they wound their way from sight.
The hustle of the city descended around us like birds staking out the best branches of a tree.
A new carriage veered into Kazimir’s place, men leaping out to unload the barrels inside, the hum and buzz of voices blending near and far like insects to my ear.
“I must leave as well,” Xiane said, pulling our attention from the dusty road. “But I will see you in the coming months?”
“Yes.” Maren turned to her. “We will visit.”
“I look forward to it.” Xiane’s gaze trickled across the human faces gathered, slowing as she found Cebrinne. She reached for Cebrinne’s shoulder, offering her a small squeeze.
“Is she taking the road?” Diara asked, leaning in to stifle her voice.
I leaned into her. “There’s a small canal east of here to manage flooding. She’ll take that back to the ocean.”
“Anyone hungry?” Hadrian asked. “I know where we can find a few turkey legs.”
“Yeah, there’s supposed to be some kind of celebration today.” Aren shrugged, grinning at the King. “No idea what for.”
Diara’s hand struck for Maren’s arm. “Sun and moon. I forgot.”
“What?” asked Maren, worried.
Diara squealed. “My dress for the feast. I can’t wait to show you.”
Sparks flew from Maren’s obsidian eyes. “Want to get ready in my tower?”
They peeled away, Diara avoiding puddles while Maren lifted her skirts to step through them. Chatting and laughing, the sound like silver bells over water. Vibrant and warm and full-bellied, a symphony that warmed my blood and lit the glow under my skin, one I never wanted to leave my ears.
Cebrinne and Ano fell into step behind us, Maren’s mother watching her daughter with a quiet kind of joy and pride.
“So,” Aren said, pausing to whistle at Fox. “What do you both plan to wear tonight?”
I motioned down my chest. “Something to accentuate my curves, obviously.”
Hadrian shrugged, stepping around an oily patch of water. “I was thinking of not going,” he said. Though if his gaze, locked on the woman ahead of him, was any indication, there was little that could keep him from his first dinner as King.
Aren cracked a toothy grin, one that made him look like a teenager, pulling his arms behind his back as he walked. “Not like it’s an important day.”
Ahead, Maren and Diara dissolved into fits of deep-gutted cackling, their steps drunken and slanted as they fought for air. We watched, amused as they swerved oddly to the side before they quieted and calmed. Until Diara snorted loudly, restarting the beautiful chaos of Maren’s laughter again.
How sweet it was, that sound.
How safe it made me feel.