Chapter 21
When he was a boy, it took him a day to recover.
When he was an adolescent, sometimes two or three.
This time, it took nearly two weeks for Kinlear to return to the land of the living. It was a sign that he was closing in on his end. He could feel it sometimes...like the whisper of the wind at his back. Like a cold, clawed thing, just waiting to devour him whole.
But he would not die today.
It was like slowly being reborn, as Kinlear opened his eyes two weeks into his episode...
And he knew something was different. The pieces of him had clicked back into place. The magic treatments from Alaris had worked, though not enough to heal him. Nothing ever would.
But today?
Today...he would see Ezer.
And not just in his dreams.
He spent nearly an hour sorting through the clothing in his closet.
It took up an entire room in his chambers, and was full of every outlandish shade he could find.
He’d taken to wearing such things in Touvre because he saw the way the Queen of Lordach practically snarled at the wild outfits of the wealthy in town, often sewn in every shade beneath the sun.
A Sacred Prince must wear all white so he can look, on the outside, as pure and pious as his soul beneath.
His mother used to bark that line at him all the time.
Kinlear hated it, and so he’d chosen to go wild because he knew it would piss her off. And if people saw the outfit, perhaps they’d stop looking at his vial or his cane.
Perhaps...they’d stop looking at him entirely. They’d see only the things he carried, while the real him, the one that was burdened and broken, got to remain hidden safely beneath.
He was sweating by the time he left his closet, a pile of unworthy robes and tunics left on the floor. In the end, though, he’d chosen white. Not at all like his usual self, because he wanted to look...
Made new.
Safe.
Secure.
Ezer was mad at him for leaving her behind, for not caring to even check on his Raphonminder.
I would have if I could, Kinlear thought, looking at his reflection in the mirror, pleased that it was relatively normal.
His eyes were shadowed, his freckles standing out against his stark paleness. But that was to be expected, when he hadn’t seen the light of day in weeks. His hair was freshly washed, his curls more or less tame. His vial was full, his cane was in his gloved hand.
I am not dying, he told himself. I am simply a busy prince who had other places to be, other duties to attend to for the sake of his kingdom.
She’d never believe that lie.
He certainly didn’t.
With a sigh, Kinlear donned his runed Eagleminder cloak, warmth flooding his tired bones.
You’re going towards something greater than Eagleminding now, he told himself, as he left his quarters behind. You are alive to see another day with the first Raphonminder Lordach has ever known, and that, above all else, is a gift.
He reached the snow, and looked out upon the tall, dark temple in the sky.
And for the first time in weeks, Kinlear Laroux smiled.
The walk up to the Aviary took twice the usual amount of time, and more sips of his vial than he’d remembered needing to take before this particular episode. But he’d made it, and he sat waiting for her before the entrance to the catacombs, his heart in his throat.
What would he say when she arrived? Would he stand up, or would he remain sitting? Could he stand, if he even wanted to, after that march up the cliff?
And better yet...
What the hell was he supposed to do with his hands? Hold the cane, not hold the cane, give her a thumbs up. Gods no, get it together.
He was so stuck in his mind, rotating through every possible scenario, that he missed the Aviary doors opening. He didn’t even notice she was here until he heard her voice right in front of him.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re back.”
He felt like he’d been shoved into an ice bath. All his former thoughts went out the window, his hands went numb, and...
She wasn’t smiling.
A spike of disappointment went through him, because...
Because of course she isn’t going to feel the same about you, Kinlear reminded himself. You’re the Veilborne dreamer, and she...
She looked highly annoyed. To the point of punching him in the face.
Mask of indifference it is, then, Kinlear decided.
“Oh?” he said, as she came to a stop in front of him.
Her hair was braided to the side, the better to show her trio of shadow wolf scars. He wondered what she would think, someday, when she saw how utterly ruined his body was. How deeply marred he was by penance marks. His entire body was a collage of old and new brands alike.
Would she be disgusted when she saw them? Would she even want to touch him, or would she be repulsed by the mere thought of her hands on his skin?
She was staring down at him. Waiting impatiently, and for good reason.
He swallowed and re-focused himself. “That’s all you can say after a millennium apart?”
“It was hardly that long. And forgive my disappointment,” Ezer said, and placed her hands on her hips, “after receiving your handwritten threats. And I am not easily appeased by gifts.”
Gods be damned.
The gifts had been a mistake. But...he’d seen the way she looked at the books the other times they’d met in the library. He saw how she gazed at them like they were old, trusted friends.
“Then I suppose I’ll take the books back,” he said, biting back a smile.
She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He chuckled at that, his laughter light...joy rising in his chest. She liked to play games, this Minder.
She liked to spar with her words every bit as much as he did.
So, he leaned into it.
If she wanted to play, he would play.
“I find the best threats are handwritten ones, Raphonminder,” he said. “And if I recall...you sent me a threat back.” He raised a dark brow, daring himself to be brave as she looked down at him. “Did you miss me, Ezer?”
“Like a knife to my brain,” she said.
Oh, she was good. She didn’t even miss a godsdamned beat.
He relished it.
“And in case you’re wondering, I’ve haltered the raphon. That task is done, so you can hold off on whatever hellish punishment you had in mind for me. We won’t be needing it today.”
Punishment.
He almost laughed, until he remembered they were still in the middle of a dangerous dance. A beautiful one.
If only she knew, how he would have given her all the gold in the Citadel, would have given her kingdoms and crowns if he could, for what she meant to him in his dreams.
He’d have every second of them come to reality soon enough.
But...until then...
“A shame,” Kinlear said, feigning disappointment with a deep sigh. “It would have been...quite artistic, the way it would have made you bleed.”
She didn’t buy it for a second.
Maybe he was losing his touch.
“There was never a punishment to begin with, was there?” she asked.
He shrugged, though it ached his tired shoulders. “I guess we’ll never know.”
And for the next several moments, they just stared at each other, as if sizing one another up.
You’re beautiful, he wanted to say. And you don’t even have a godsdamned clue, do you? If only you knew how much you make my heart race, how dizzy I get when I’m near you, how utterly panicked my thoughts become, because someday, Ezer...we’ll share a love that entire armies could never shake.
There was no denying their connection in the darkness, by the Acolyte’s door.
But...no.
He couldn’t say any of that to her, not yet. He was still a strange. Not even yet a friend. He was a prince who’d pushed her into a cage with a raphon, for the gods’ sake – you’re a fool, Kinlear Laroux, he told himself.
And she?
She was everything.
Everything and more.
What if Arawn thinks so, too?
That obnoxious little thought had come from a voice that sounded, again, eerily like his monster. He hated it. He’d killed it and yet the ghost of it still came back to haunt him.
“I hear the magic and combat lessons are going...well,” Kinlear said, testing the waters. “Despite the instructor’s shortcomings.”
Ezer glowered at him. “You’re wasting his time and mine, sending me there.”
“I didn’t realize magic is a waste, Raphonminder.”
She crossed her arms. “Magic isn’t. Trying to pull it out of me, when it requires the blessing of the gods...that most certainly is.”
“And why would you think that?” he asked.
“Because the gods have turned a blind eye to me,” Ezer said. “I told you before, and I’m more than happy to tell you again.”
He glanced over his shoulder, holding back a smile as he looked at the black door. Gods, if only she knew how connected he felt to her, yet again, by that very statement.
He couldn’t tell her about his illness.
He wouldn’t, not yet.
But...he could offer her a bit of his own struggles. So she felt less alone.
“You think the gods will answer with words or wielding. Whatever it is, to show their yes. But that is not always the case. Sometimes...they say no.”
He looked down at his useless leg.
Then he set his gaze back upon her.
“And sometimes their answer might be a raphon.”
He needed to stand up, to look tall and strong. He grunted as he stood, hating the sound as it left his lips.
“My mother is traveling to the Citadel as we speak,” Kinlear told her.
That little lovely bit of news, he’d received just before he arrived.
“My father’s magic requires much of him.
Too much, in his later years, at least for a Sacred.
While she’s here...” It was an effort not to look downright hateful, when he thought of his witch of a mother.
“She and my father wish to meet you and see a Demonstration with Six.”
She looked like she might vomit. “What kind of Demonstration?”
He waved a gloved hand. “We have several days until her arrival. And if what you’ve said is true, then you’ll have no problem saddling the pup today...and getting her ready for a rider by tomorrow.”
“What?” she yelped.
He’d expected this reaction.
But he wouldn’t flinch, wouldn’t show even a hint of doubt in her, because he truly had none.