Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
Eirabella
“So, let me get this straight,” Mathis says, barely containing his amusement as we walk through the sunset-drenched streets, laughter spilling between us as he leans in, a mischievous grin on his face. “You accidentally challenged Mistress Verisya to a duel?”
I roll my eyes, though I can’t help but laugh. “It wasn’t a challenge; it was a… miscommunication! I wasn’t aware of the… etiquette of certain phrases. And now I know, okay?”
“Oh sure, a miscommunication with swords drawn with Aetherhold’s sternest woman? I’m surprised your head is still attached.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “No wonder you don’t have any friends.”
I gasp, playfully punching his arm. “Excuse me, Captain Corvane, I have plenty of friends, thank you very much! I’m awfully popular with my quick wit and good looks,” I joke, pretending to primp and preen .
He raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Sure, sure. If you say so.”
“Anyway, you can’t talk. Your friends are Rylan and Grellie. Might as well be friends with a mute and a grumpy bullfrog.”
He laughs. “Which one is which?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t even matter!”
“You saying you’re not my friend? Is the captain of the guard not good enough for the future Aquilith?”
I drape my arm around his shoulders and give him a quick hug. “You, Captain Corvane, are too good for me and you know it.”
He squeezes my arm. “I’d be flattered except that I know all about your stroking my ego while you reject me strategy.”
“Mathis, your ego hardly needs stroking.”
“I don’t know, it’s not always easy being the crown prince’s sidekick,” he says in a way that doesn’t sound entirely like a joke.
I frown, surprised at the comment. “Does that actually bother you?”
The smile he gives me is tinged with an emotion I can’t quite place. “No. Until recently, I don’t think there’s anything he has that I wanted.”
“What’s changed?”
He just shrugs and then points toward the left when we come to a fork in the road. “Nothing. I was just being silly.”
My thoughts drift to Janus. “Actually, speaking of friends… I haven’t heard from Janus in a while,” I say, my tone quieter. “I’ve sent him a letter every week, but… nothing. It’s not like him to stay silent. He’d usually write back, at least to give me some peace of mind.” Mathis’s face softens, the humour replaced by genuine concern. He places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’ll look into it,” he promises, his voice firm but gentle. “Maybe he’s just been busy helping the village rebu ild. There did seem like there would’ve been some damage after the fire.”
His words provide some comfort, and I offer him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Mathis.”
We round a corner, and my eyes catch sight of the long winding lines in the town square. Collection Day. I quietly watch for a few moments as people move in coordinated chaos, making their Offerings and then walking directly over to the market, trading their magic-bought coins for groceries. A pang of unease twists in my chest.
Mathis glances at me, noticing my silence. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, voice soft.
“I’m still not okay with it,” I murmur. “And now that I have my magic back, I can’t imagine giving any of it away… or selling it.” I watch a young boy hand over a copper coin in exchange for a colourful sweet treat, his face lighting up in joy.
Mathis follows my gaze. “But would you begrudge them a source of income?”
I hesitate, watching the boy’s unrestrained laughter drift through the air as he skips back to his mother. “I don’t know,” I admit, and tuck the thoughts away for another time when I can mull over my opinions. “I mean, the Offerings must be crucial to the kingdom, and do most of these people need all the magic they have? I don’t have the answers. Which is probably a good thing that I don’t make those decisions. I don’t envy the king or Rylan. Do you?”
Mathis gives me a look that seems saturated in conflict. What must it be like to be the best friend of the heir to the throne, and also have his protection on your shoulders? “I don’t have the knowledge to answer that question. But I know that being a good leader starts with having a good heart. And Rylan has that. As for the king…” his voice tapers off, and something tells me it’s better if I don’t push for an answer.
We wander down along the eastern corridor of the capital where I haven’t been yet, and Mathis takes the time to point out some of his favourite places, taverns and small bookshops with rough hidden corners that could keep me occupied for weeks. In a little trinket shop, I find a charm of the moon. The shopkeeper wraps it in some glitter tissue paper and I slide it into my pocket, excited for when I can next see Rylan and can give it to him. Although he’s been gone all week, when I look out the window and see the moon, I know there’s one thing that binds us. I hope if being separated becomes a frequent thing, he’ll have something to remind him as well.
Finally, Mathis and I head back to Aetherhold.
I slip my arm through his, smiling at his handsome face, lit by the street torches. “Thank you for coming on these walks with me while Rylan’s been gone on assignment. It helps more than you know.”
He looks down at me, tenderness softening in his eyes. “Anytime, Eirabella,” he says softly. “Anytime.”
The world is nothing but the roar of water and the ache in my muscles. Master Tavyn has me on the edge of my limits, and I can feel my strength fading, but I refuse to give in. A giant wave nearly the width of the entire field is crashing toward me, and my hands glow with magic as I try to hold it back, the strain threatening to rip me apart from the inside.
"Push harder, Eira!" Master Tavyn’s voice is sharp, but there’s a trace of encouragement there, even if it’s buried under all the yelling. The ground beneath me is slick, my boots slipping as I plant them in the mud, trying to brace myself.
“I am!” I shout back through gritted teeth, but my voice is swallowed by the sound of rushing water. I’m exhausted, every fibre of my being screaming for me to stop, but I won’t. Not until he says it’s enough. Not until I’ve proven I can handle it.
The water surges closer, and the shield I’ve built thins and shakes. It feels like trying to hold back a river with a spoon. I know I’m close to my breaking point, and so does Master Tavyn.
I know he senses it, but he doesn’t stop.
And he won’t; I told him not to, not until it becomes life- threatening.
I squeeze my eyes shut and drag the last of my magic from its reserves and with both hands, focus all my energy to push the wave back in one swift movement.
Everything freezes midair for one second, and then Master Tavyn’s wave dissolves into a fine mist.
“Good, Eira!” he praises me. And before I can take a breath and enjoy my victory, he shouts, “Now block this!”
The clang of steel echoes through the training yard as Master Tavyn unsheathes his sword and brings it down, two-handed, crashing it toward my head. I duck out of the way, and lift my arm over my head to block with my shield. My muscles scream in protest, every inch of my body soaked in sweat. My legs feel like they’re on fire, and I’m pretty sure my arms have turned to lead.
But I’m not stopping. Not yet.
“And again!” he warns, pulling his sword back and then readying for another downward strike. I block it with my shield just in time, before dropping the shield to my side.
“Don’t let that guard down! I didn’t say we were done. Again!” Master Tavyn’s voice is relentless, almost as sharp as the blade in my hand. He’s pacing back and forth, watching me with that hawk-like gaze of his. I’ve only been training daily with him for a few days, but in that time, I’ve learned one thing: the man does not take it easy. Ever. Good. I’m not going to beat Selene any other way. “You asked for this, don’t forget!” he taunts as he jabs forward and jumps back just in time to avoid a sword through the stomach.
“Because who doesn’t want a third round of almost dying,” I mutter under my breath. My legs wobble as I square off against him again.
“Did you say something?” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his eyes.
“No, Master. Just thinking about how much I love your motivational speeches, they’re really rousing and encouraging,” I shoot back, managing a sarcastic smile.
He snorts. “Good. Now stop thinking and just do.”
Sick of being on the defensive, I lunge forward with ice shards shooting from my blade as I pour my energy into it. My magic flares through me, and it starts to feel raw and wild, like trying to catch the wind with bare hands, but I rein it in, the way Rylan has drilled into me, controlling it. I swing harder, the air crackling with elemental power as I push myself past the limit.
My grip firms as Master Tavyn lunges, ducking out of the way of my projectiles, his sword cutting a sharp arc toward my head. But I’m ready this time. I shift my weight, stepping into his movement rather than away from it, and bring my blade up in a strong parry. Our swords collide with a jarring clang, but I don’t falter. I push hard, forcing his sword up and away, using his momentum against him.
For a split second, I have the upper hand. I can feel it. His stance shifts, and his balance wavers. I see the opening—a clear path to strike. But something in me hesitates, the thought flickering in my mind too long. What if I overreach?
That’s all it takes.
He recovers instantly. With a sharp twist, he brings his sword low in a sweeping motion aimed at my side. I try to react, but my hesitation costs me. His blade grazes past my guard, and I stumble back, barely managing to deflect his strike before it lands solidly. The force drives me off-balance, and I can feel the heat of embarrassment rising in my cheeks.
He steps back, eyes narrowing in quiet assessment. I grit my teeth, knowing I lost the edge—because I doubted.
“You’re hesitating, girl,” he says sharply, stepping back as I steady myself. “Stop overthinking it. It needs to become second nature. The moves are in you. Let instinct guide them. ”
“I’m trying!” I pant, my chest heaving as I struggle to stay upright. “I’m just—”
“Thinking too much again. Stop holding back. Again!”
I take a deep breath, nodding, though I can feel my body protesting every movement. Why did I ask him to push me so hard again? Oh, right. Because I’m an idiot with something to prove.
As I’m positioning myself to execute a swift cut to Master Tavyn’s side, I notice the smallest flick of his wrist, one I know too well. I look up to see a swirl of water building overhead, and lowering down to me. I drop my sword and lift my shield again, using it as the starting point for a thick ice barrier to hold the water spiral back. But it’s late in the day, and this is the third of three training sessions, each that has drained me of every last ounce of magic and energy.
The water spiral pushes down on me hard and fast, my lungs burn as I try to draw energy from it, and make it my own, but Master Tavyn has his magic blocked too well. I’m on my own.
“Arghhhhh!” I scream, every muscle in my body screeching from pain.
“Don’t waste your energy screaming, Eira,” he says calmly, as if he doesn’t have a lake’s worth of water barrelling down on me. “You’re supposed to be conserving it. Think . Think creatively, if you can’t beat me with brute force, what else can you do?”
Sweat burns my eyes, but out of the corner, I see Master Tavyn standing to the side, unprotected, too busy focusing on the water spiral he’s pressing down on me.
I’m about to use the very last of my magic to hurl a water lasso towards his legs to pull him off balance when I hear a voice in the background.
“What the fuck is going on out here? ”
I glance up to see Rylan storming toward us, his eyes blazing with fury.
“That is enough!” he shouts and I see it before I feel it—the wall of water dissolving into fine mist as Rylan swipes his hand, overpowering Master Tavyn with a single move.
Show off.
My body sags in relief, but the second the pressure is gone, Rylan is there, standing between me and Tavyn like some kind of bodyguard.
For a moment, my heart fills with joy. I haven’t seen him since he left my bedroom almost a week ago. He, and some of the other Keepers, all left for the Southern border to see where and how they could shore up the defences and see how the rebellion leader could’ve infiltrated the barracks to the point of destroying the armoury. What little sleep I normally get dwindled almost to nothing as I’ve sat up worried about him.
The joy, however, lasts about the length of a racing heartbeat. Rylan looks about as mad as I’ve ever seen him. And I’ve seen him mad… a lot.
"What in Morath’s hell are you doing?" Rylan snaps, his voice so harsh that it makes me wince. "You can’t push her like that!"
Master Tavyn doesn’t even flinch. He stands there, arms crossed, completely calm. "Of course I can. That’s why I’m here. And she told me to push her. As did you, if I recall."
"Push! Not kill! " Rylan fires back, and I feel the anger roll off him in stormy waves. He’s furious.
I rise to my feet. But still weak, I stumble forward, my legs buckling under me. He races forward to catch me, but I wave him away, using my sword to keep myself upright. My body is aching, but I’m still standing. Kind of.
“Shit! We need to get you to Falon. Now. ”
"I’m fine," I pant, trying to catch my breath. "Rylan, look at me, I’m fine."
He stares at me, eyes wide with disbelief, as he grits his teeth, hands fisted at his side as I almost topple to the side again. "You’re not fine! You were about to collapse!"
"Yes, but I didn’t." I offer a weak grin, trying to lighten the mood. "See? Still standing. It’s just training, Rylan. You told me to do just this."
"No, not this. I never meant this." His frustration boils over, and he turns back to Master Tavyn, who is watching with mild disinterest. "Get out of here. You’re done for now. We’ll be talking about her training later once I’ve taken her to the healers."
Master Tavyn shrugs, completely unfazed by the tension. "As you wish. But she was handling it just fine. Better than fine, better than most of the disciples I’ve trained. And I trained you, don’t forget.” He shrugs. “And she was the one telling me to keep pushing her. She’s stronger than you’re giving her credit for. But hey, if you want to hold her back, Your Highness..." He shuffles off the training grounds, his hands clasped behind his back, muttering under his breath about overprotective men and dramatic damsels in distress, making my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
"You what? " Rylan turns back to me, looking like he’s ready to explode, but before he can launch into another tirade, I step in close, resting a hand on his chest.
"Rylan, stop," I say, my voice firm despite the exhaustion weighing down my limbs. "I did, I asked him to push me. Practically begged. This is what I wanted."
"You wanted to nearly drown?" His eyes flicker with anger and concern as he looks me over again. "You were about to get seriously hurt."
"I wasn’t. Master Tavyn wouldn’t have let that happen. He’s not Kaelen. He was teaching me what to do in that situation," I point out. "Also, what if I get hurt? I’m going to get hurt as Aquilith, that’s just a given.” His jaw tightens and his eyes flood with fear. “So, that’s just part of the training, Rylan. I’m not going to reach my true potential if I don’t push myself to the edge."
His jaw tightens, and I can see the argument forming behind his eyes. "This isn’t about growth. This is about you overextending yourself."
"I know my limits!" I shoot back. "You have to let me do this!"
"Let you get hurt?" he counters, stepping closer. "What kind of mentor would I be if I allowed that to happen?" He leans in, his hand cupping my face. “What kind of… lover? "
I lay my hand over his. "One who knows to put my training above his personal feelings. You were my mentor first , Rylan, before you were my lover, remember?" The words come out sharper than I intend, but I don’t regret them. I can’t be held back, not by him, not by anyone.
“Oh, I remember. And you didn’t listen to me then either!” He pulls his hand away and steps back. “But things… have changed now. And…”
“And what, Rylan? Now that you’ve bedded me, you feel some misplaced obligation to coddle me? No, that’s not how this is going to go. Please don’t tell me you’re the kind of man who thinks a woman suddenly becomes weaker because you’ve fucked her!”
“It’s not misplaced. And of course I don’t think that. But how do you think I feel watching you getting almost crushed, drowned by that water?”
“Probably the same way I felt for the last few days as you were deployed to the far reaches of the kingdom to fight a rebellion, with me having no idea if you were hurt or even alive!”
He flinches. “I am Celestaris, Eirabella. It’s my job to go.”
“And I trust you to be able to take care of yourself. That’s all I’m asking, that you do the same for me.” His gritted teeth tell me just what he thinks about doing that. Might as well go in for the kill. “All I’m doing is trying to become Aquilith so that I can be there, supporting you, by your side. You brought me here for that. You took me from my home, you promised me I was meant for this, and here I am. And now it’s become my goal. I want this, I want to play my part. And I’m not going to let you get in the way of that, Rylan.”
His thumb finds the edge of my cheek, his voice strained as he says, “Eirabella, I can’t just stand by and watch you get pushed past your limits.”
“Then maybe you shouldn't watch!” I throw my hands up in frustration. "If it’s too hard for you to see me get hurt, then you’re going to have to figure out what to do about that for yourself. I can’t help you with that.”
"Lost in thought?"
I’m in the gardens later, taking some time to myself when I look up, startled, to find the king at my side. His presence is commanding, but not oppressive. There’s something about him that always feels… larger than life.
"Your Majesty," I say, jumping to my feet and quickly composing myself so I can curtsey. "My apologies, I didn’t see you."
He offers a small dismissive wave. "I noticed. You seemed… preoccupied."
I nod, unsure of how much to reveal. "Just… th inking."
"About your training, no doubt." He glances at me, his gaze sharp. "Master Tavyn is known for being rather rigorous."
"That’s an understatement," I mutter, earning a soft chuckle from him.
He walks beside me for a moment in silence before speaking again. "You’ve been doing exceptionally well, Eirabella. Your progress has been remarkable. Especially considering where you started."
I glance at him, trying to gauge his intentions. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"You’re pushing yourself hard," he observes, his tone casual but probing. "May I ask why this is so important to you?"
I hesitate, unsure of where this conversation is going. Has it slipped his mind that partly why I’m even still here is because he threatened my friends? But he hasn’t once mentioned our first conversation. "It’s become important to me to… be impressive," I say, mirroring his words from the first day. “And to make a difference with my life.”
"A noble cause," he says, but there’s something behind his words. Something more. "But is that all? Surely there’s something else."
I frown, trying to read him. Why is he asking me this? What does he want?
"I simply feel as though, if as some people say, my magic is strong, then I want to put it to good use," I say carefully, watching him for any reaction. "Isn’t that enough?"
"For most, perhaps," he replies, his smile widening. "But I find that those who seek greatness often have deeper motivations. A hunger for power, maybe. Or something more… personal?"
I suddenly feel an urge to say more, to explain. But I bite back on mentioning his son .
"I just love this… kingdom," I say, choosing my words cautiously. "That’s all."
"Admirable," he says, and suddenly the strange hold on my tongue seems to release. I must’ve imagined it. The king’s charisma always has been legendary. "You remind me of someone, you know."
"Who?" I ask, genuinely curious now.
"My late queen." His voice softens. "She was strong. Driven. Like you. Clever to a fault. You know, I feel like, if she had had just a little more time, she would’ve found a cure for her illness." Resentment makes a home in his expression.
I blink, taken aback by the comparison. "I can’t imagine the depth of your loss. I am so sorry, Your Majesty."
"Thank you. It was… difficult. Losing her." There’s a long pause before he speaks again, his tone lighter but still probing. "They expect me to marry again, you know."
I stiffen slightly, unsure of where this is going. "That must be… challenging."
"It is," he admits, his gaze flickering to me. "But it’s necessary. The kingdom needs stability, after all."
There’s a weight to his words that I don’t quite understand. I try to read him, but his expression gives nothing away.
“Enough of sad talk. Have you taken up my offer of going for walks in the city?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I think if I didn’t have those walks, and the quiet time in these garden readings, I might go crazy from all the training. The walks are also a good reminder that I have the ability to remain upright, something that my time being flattened on the sparring mats has made me question.” I clamp my mouth shut as soon as the words leave my mouth.
He laughs, easing my embarrassment at having perhaps spoken too freely. For a moment, the sound reminds me of Rylan. And not for the first time, I can’t help but wonder how different and yet similar these two men who represent our kingdom’s present and future truly are. "Well, Eirabella, I insist you feel free to visit my private library at any time. I’ll make sure the guards know to allow you entry," he says. "I think you’ll find it… enlightening. And less rigorous than training with the masters. Safer, at the very least."
I raise an eyebrow. "You’re saying there is somewhere I can hide from all the things that are trying to kill me in Aetherhold?"
He gives me a probing look and then says in a tone that sends a shiver down my spine, "Unfortunately, I can’t promise you that. And if you’re to be our Aquilith, that may simply be something you must get used to."
I’m dressing for dinner, still thinking about the king’s ominous words when there’s a knock at the door. I open it to find Rylan standing there, holding a bowl of ice cream, his expression soft but still tense.
"I brought a peace offering," he says quietly, stepping inside. I cross my arms, waiting for him to continue, but all he says is, "Is there something you want to say to me?” I raise an eyebrow, letting him say everything he came to say. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. Are you going to start taking it easier with your training?”
“No.”
“I thought not.”
“Then why ask?”
The look he gives me tells me his patience is running thin. “Because this is… all new to me. And it’s hard for me, Eira. Watching you get hurt, watching you push yourself to the point of breaking. It’s unbearable. And knowing I can’t always be within reach to help you if something happens. I can’t arrive at the training fields and find you…" His voice tapers off, as if remembering the way I’d looked when I’d burned out.
My heart softens at his words, but I hold my ground. "I have to do this. It’s not just for me—it’s for you, for us all. You have to let me grow. You have to let me be strong. Let me become what you stole me from my home to be," I add with a mischievous look.
He rolls his eyes. "You’re never going to let that go, are you?"
“Not if it wins me arguments.” I grin as he pushes past me into my room, dropping the ice cream on the bed before pulling me into a kiss, his lips soft and warm against mine. The anger between us fades, replaced by a sense of understanding.
“I don’t even know why I try at this point,” he concedes, burying his head in my hair and sighing. “I missed you so much this last week. No one annoys me half as much as you do, and apparently I’ve become rather addicted to it.”
I laugh against his lips.
Ten minutes later, we’re both naked and I’m on my back, legs wrapped around Rylan as he’s buried deep inside me, his tongue licking the ice cream off my peaked nipple. Arching against his mouth, he takes the hint and bites down hard.
I think I might die from the pleasure. Happily so.
He drags his tongue up my neck, his lips resting on my racing pulse. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. Do you know how many times I wanted to just leave my cadre behind and climb back into bed with you?”
“That would’ve been quite the trip just to fuck me.” I push up against him, taking him deeper .
“Worth it. Fuck, your pussy is like heaven wrapped around my hard cock, Eira,” he groans. “Seriously, you could not imagine how many times I imagined us doing just this while I was away.”
Gods, he feels so good filling me up. He knows just how to touch, how to wring the pleasure from my body. “Probably not as many times as I imagined waking up to the feel of you hard behind me, nudging my legs apart and driving your cock inside me.”
He growls again, grinding his hips, hitting me in the spot that makes me almost blind with pleasure. “How did you know that was my fantasy? Have you been reading my mind, my sweet, nefarious disciple? Secretly extracting all my thoughts of you from my mind while I sleep.”
I let out a soft giggle. “Oh, I think those are the tamest of your thoughts, my prince. But I’m willing to hear about them all… and act out each and every one. Then we’ll move onto mine…it involves my mouth…and your cock…and…”
I reach between us, letting my fingertips drag along his length as he pulls out of me, and then plunges back in.
“Fuck!” he groans, throwing his head back, the veins in his throat straining from the pleasure of it all. “I can only imagine what devious, dirty scenarios you have churning in that gorgeous head of yours.”
I’m about to tell him about one when there’s a knock on my door.
He grits his teeth, and stills when he hears Caelum say, “Eira? Are you awake? I’ve brought you some soup. Mathis said you had a rough day training, and I thought you might need some food.”
“Fucking Caelum,” Rylan hisses in a way that makes me break out into loud giggles .
He glares at me and covers my mouth with his hand. “Be quiet, do you want him to know you’re in here?”
I don’t say anything, just lift my hips as I squeeze myself as tightly as I can around him.
His eyes flare, almost catching fire.
“ Fucking minx . Oh, you want to play?” The tone of his voice is deliciously threatening. “Okay, we can play. Just remember, you asked for this, disciple.” With strength he’s conjured from the gods, he slides his hands under my back and lifts me up, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist. Walking me over to the door, he lowers me to the ground and spins me around. “Hands against the wall.”
“Rylan! He’s just on the other side of the door.”
His hand tangles in my hair as he yanks my head back, pulling my ass back and drives himself deep inside me making me gasp. “I said, hands against the wall.”
Breathless, I obey, lifting my hands to brace as he starts to fuck me so deep I can barely stand. The sound of him ramming hard, deep, is so erotic, I can barely remember my own name. Murmuring sweet, dirty words, he pulls the entire length of his delicious cock out and then slams it back into me, over and over until all I see is stars.
Caelum knocks again. “Eira? Can I get you anything?”
“Go on, answer him, disciple,” he growls, his mouth biting down on my neck, the pain so delicious, my nipples harden into little peaks.
He’s kidding. “Ryla—”
“You want to see what else I’ll make you do if you disobey me?” He slams forward again, impaling me onto his hardness, his hand reaching around to circle my clit. “Now, answer my dear cousin.”
I bite down hard on my bottom lip, swallowing a moan before I try to obey. “C-Caelum. I’m… er, I’m having a bath. What can I do for you?”
There’s the sound of a tray being moved on the other side of the door. “Oh, a bath you say? Do you need company?”
Rylan growls, his hand tangling deeper in my hair as he takes out his possessiveness on my body.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on the words. “Ha, funny. I’ll come find you l-la— ohhhhh gods —later. Okay?” My head falls forward to rest on the wall as my legs threaten to buckle under me, each thrust pushing me perilously close to the edge.
Rylan leans over, whispering in my ear darkly before biting down on my shoulder. “No. You fucking won’t. You’re all mine tonight, do you hear me? This sweet, delicious pussy is all mine. And I’m going to punish this gorgeous, decadent body for teasing me and making me miss you so badly I could barely function all week.”
“Do you want me to get rid of him or not?” I squeeze on him and he hisses, making me grin at the little bit of revenge I’m getting.
“You’re right,” Rylan says, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Let’s get rid of him once and for all.”
“Wha—?”
Before I can stop him, he reaches over and yanks the door open, giving Caelum a clear shot of him buried deep inside me. I could fucking curl up and die. He grabs my hips and pulls me back onto his cock and I have no choice but to moan. “Sorry, Cousin. Eirabella is busy right now. She’ll find you tomorrow. If she can walk. Now kindly, fuck off. I’m teaching my disciple a lesson she’s never going to forget.”
There’s the sound of the tray clattering to the floor, and then Rylan slams the door shut .
“You are fucking mad!” I shout.
He drags his tongue up my spine, then bites down hard on my shoulder as he rams into me. “Yes, and that should stop him constantly coming to interrupt us.” Then his hands grip around my throat, pulling my face to his as he slams over and over, ever deeper into me. “But nothing is going to stop you coming on my cock. Which you’re going to do… right now.”
Dear Janus,
I can't even believe I am writing these words, but… I made it into the final round of the Keeper trial. I survived (just, but… let's not go into such detail) and I prevailed. I can't tell you how or even why. But it happened. As well as so many other things that I can't even start to talk about in a letter.
Life here is getting harder and easier at the same time. I ate a whole plate of roasted boar last night. But I couldn't really enjoy it, thinking about how much you would've enjoyed it, how we would've fought over the ribs, how it would've lasted us for days. I miss sharing meals with you. I miss sharing cups of tea with you. I miss hearing Kahlia play in the next room. I miss just knowing that you're okay.
I don't know where you are and what you're doing, but if you can, please, please, take a moment just to tell me that you're okay. You and Kahlia both. Don't make me threaten you with my hot hands at you.
The final Keeper trial will be in a few months.
And… I'm scared.
I wish I could say that I knew that I will prevail in that one too, but the other disciple is a force. Not a very nice force, an altogether too sure of herself, beautiful and talented force .
I wish you were here to tell me that I can do it. You always made me feel like anything was possible. I don't think that I could've survived those days after Fucking Samfer left without you supporting me.
I'm sending a little pink bow for Kahlia. I can't wait to come home and see her wearing it.
Take care, Janus. And send me a letter, for Morath's sake. Don't make me create an ice sculpture of you picking your nose to put it in the town square. I can do that now.
Missing you xx,
- E
"What language is this?" I ask, running my fingers along the chiselled stone on the outer walls of the city.
Rylan had shown up on the other side of the glass doors of the amphitheatre midway through the Defensive Operations class, gesticulating wildly to the point that even some of the Sentience cadre had burst out laughing. It had taken me a few seconds of watching his pantomime, with full commentary by Doran, to realise he was asking me if I wanted to join him on a walk after my day’s lessons.
I'm not really even sure why he needed to make such a grand effort to ask me, as taking walks to the city after my last training session of the day together has become an almost daily ritual. And I wouldn't miss it for all the coins in the realms. Sometimes we go with a full company of guards, Grellor and Mathis have joined us a few times, Alina on occasion as well, but mostly, it's just the two of us. Exploring the city, all parts of the city, places he grew up going to, places he hasn't even discovered. And sometimes, like today, we just find ourselves walking, aimlessly, until our legs give out under us.
Somehow we'd found ourselves at the border of the city and ventured just outside to walk along the gates and the surrounding walls.
"It's Myranthian; it’s the very first tongue our people spoke when the first king was anointed and settled here. It’s the mother language to Kaldoran." He clears his throat and then says, " Alyen thrívalo, nyar’en caelor,
Talanis vyr’anth, saelith’ lor.
Miralin’e kael, thyros valen,
Valnith or’an, esthal dor’en."
I have no idea what it means, but I feel it deep in my bones.
"Wow, that’s beautiful, even if I have no idea what you said. Did you call me a wet horse stinky poopyhead?"
He laughs. "No, it's a poem. About a girl with wild hair."
"Sounds like me. Are you fluent in both Kaldoran and Myranthian?"
He smiles. "I am. Among other ancient languages. My maternal grandfather had a way with words that felt like he used them like how you wield magic. Beautiful. He made me love them as much as he did, and spent a lot of time teaching them to me."
Butterflies flutter in my chest. "You think the way I wield magic is beautiful?"
"I think everything you do is beautiful, Valora. "
He laces my fingers with his, and presses a kiss to the side of my throat. I giggle and reach up to run my fingertips along the back of his neck. The sigh that emanates from him tickles every part of my body, and I beam up at him.
"Will you read these words to me?" I say, gesturing to the wall.
He nods, and we spend the rest of the afternoon as we walk up and down along the front wall of the city as he reads and translates the story of the first kings, and how Celador came to be and the values and virtues it was built on. It’s a tale of fortitude and valour, of great hope and vision. And the way Rylan tells it brings tears to my eyes.
As the sun becomes but a slit on the horizon, we pass over the bridge back to Aetherhold, reluctantly unlacing our fingers and pulling a respectable distance apart. While his bravado in announcing our relationship to Caelum and Mathis had been shocking, we both agreed it was better to keep it between us, each having our own reasons for deciding so that we hadn’t felt a need to share with the other.
"Thank you. For today," he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. "It reminded me of similar afternoons with my grandfather, poring over old texts, and the way he used to come alive when he talked about it."
"I enjoyed it. I would’ve liked to have met him." I grant myself a little bump of my body against his before pulling apart again as I smile up at him. “Anyway, who else was going to go on a romantic walk with you, Mathis?”
He sighs and pretends to look sad. “Mathis isn’t here. I had to ask you.”
“ Had to?” I kick out with my foot and he grins, jumping out the way before looking around quickly and stealing a quick kiss.
“Who knows where he is. Off doing Captain of the Guard things I guess.”
We reach the courtyard and our steps slow, as if reluctant to go inside. "Can I ask you one last thing before you have to go to your meeting?" I ask, trying to stall.
"Anything at all."
I give him a serious look as I say, "How do you say 'poopyhead' in Myranthian?"