15. Ilaris
Ilaris
Day three of travel, Killian made another meal, not as elaborate as the one we shared in the hut, but I was grateful to eat it.
We sat in silence, the only sounds the crackle of fire and the distant calls of the forest animals as they settled in for the night.
I stole glances at Killian across the flames, studying the shadows dancing across his chiseled features.
In the ruins he’d seemed otherworldly, in the hut, more human, yet still magnificent.
Out there in the forest, there was another shift to him.
A longing I did not want to examine rose, but I was determined not to be impulsive.
I had an opportunity to do what no other scholar had ever done, for the House of Scholars wanted to know about giants, and I would tell the ultimate story.
The truth. It was more than the Great Sundering.
It was five locations where giants were buried, and I held the words to bring them back.
Leaning back against a tree trunk, I took out my journal and flipped to a blank page.
Tonight my bruises were only a dull thud, and while the exhaustion from traveling made me want to close my eyes, I wanted to capture this tale.
I’d wasted time sleeping, healing, and was no closer to knowing his story.
“What are you doing?” Killian asked.
The firelight caught the curiosity in his gaze, something endearing about it brought a smile to my lips.
“Writing everything down for historical records. As a scholar, it’s important to record everything.
” I ran my fingers over the blank page. “I came to the ruins looking for academic vindication, but I found something more complicated.”
“Regret it?” There was a catch in his voice, a tension, daring me to speak.
Did I? I’d been beaten. Bound by a blood oath to an immortal I could never touch.
Drowned. I was walking toward certain danger, away from everything familiar, with no clear path back to the life I’d known.
But this wasn’t the first time I’d thrown all caution to the wind and focused on what was in front of me, instead of what was behind.
Time would tell if this would be my biggest risk, or the start of my future.
“No.” I sat upright, my words bold, holding his gaze. “I regret my impulsiveness and my ignorance, thinking I understood what I was doing. But not. . . not you.”
His hand stilled on the food he’d been packing away, the wood he’d been feeding to the fire.
For a long moment he was utterly motionless, that same stillness that had come over him when I’d attempted to kiss him.
Even that memory, though it carried hints of embarrassment, was not a moment I regretted.
“Careful with words like that.”
“Why?”
“Because this can’t be anything more than necessity. . .”
He trailed off, but those molten eyes trapped me until I was ready to let myself drown in those embers. The silence that followed was charged, full of something. I wanted to go deeper, but I knew better.
Killian stood abruptly, turning away. “You should rest.”
“I’ve been resting. Besides, we have a lot of travel ahead of us and nothing else to do but talk. You promised answers if I helped you.”
He grunted. “That’s not what I meant.”
“None of this is what I imagined or envisioned, but at least you can give me the history of giants from your perspective. Your personal account as a prince.”
I’d meant my words to intrigue him, to appeal to some vanity or desire to have his story told.
Instead, he went still. That uncanny, complete stillness that made him look more like a statue carved from living stone.
Over time I’d learn his mannerisms, what the stillness meant, the glint in his eye, the twitch of his jaw.
I looked forward to knowing this mysterious fire giant.
“Ask your questions,” he said finally. “But I’ll choose how and if I answer them.”
I smiled, feeling a small thrill of victory. “First, what are you going to do about clothes?”
A wry smile touched his lips, transforming his features. My breath caught at the beauty of it.
“Why clothes? It seems you enjoy looking at me. Like this.”
So he had noticed.
My skin went warm, but I refused to look away. This was something we shared, or at least the awareness between us suggested we did. The way his eyes tracked my movements. The way mine followed his. The careful distance we maintained that made every interaction feel significant.
“I’m a scholar,” I said softly. “I observe, I catalog. It’s what I do.”
His smile deepened, and I felt an answering warmth bloom in my chest that had nothing to do with the fire between us. We held each other’s gaze across the flames as though it were a contest, a test of wills. Who would look away first, who would break?
My pulse quickened, his breathing changed, the fire crackled, throwing shadows across his face. And I wanted. . .
I wanted to close the distance. Wanted to know what would happen if I stood and reached for him despite the pain it would bring. Would it be worth it? Would the agony be bearable if it meant feeling his skin against mine?
I tore my gaze from his, and the loss felt physical. I took a shuddering breath, trying to calm my racing heart and unknot the desire that had tangled itself around my ribs.
“Tell me about the blood oath,” I said. “What does it mean. What are the rules?”
Those powerful shoulders shrugged. “As long as the oath is fulfilled, there will be no pain.”
“So I felt pain because I rejected it?”
“I believe so. Distance is also a factor. We are in this together. As long as we move forward together, there shouldn’t be any repercussions.”
I nodded, flipping back to the first page of my journal, where I had sketched out the runes. I turned the page toward him. “Can you tell me what these mean? The runes on the archway?”
His nostrils flared, and he reared back as though I’d insulted him. “You copied those down?”
I nodded. “I wasn’t the first. Other scholars have gone and translated the runes, but now that you’re here. Back.” I faltered, wondering which words to use. “Only you can tell me what they actually mean, the rest is only theory.”
“One thing you must know about my people, everything is steeped in magic, in ritual, and reverence. The runes written on the gateway to my kingdom are the truths my people held to. We were fire giants, fire magic at our core.”
Killian picked up a stick and broke it into four pieces. He laid them out in the shape of a rune. “This means fire. It indicates the legacy of fire and magic.”
I leaned forward, hastily making a note in my journal, heart thumping.
Here it was, this was it, what the House of Scholars desired.
I had truth, I had legend, and just for a moment I let myself dream of returning to the House of Scholars, to recognition and glory, and shock at what I’d been able to accomplish.
No one would question my actions again, no one would stand in my way to becoming an accomplished scholar.
Then I could write the words that would bring about change.
Killian rearranged the sticks, creating another rune.
“This rune acknowledges royalty and dominion. There are five kingdoms, but four answer to one. Fire. My father was the king of all kings, the four kingdoms paid tribute to us. We led the way in all: wealth, knowledge, warfare, discovery.” He paused, staring into the flames.
His throat moved as he brushed the sticks away, then rearranged them.
“This rune is a ward. For those who cross the threshold, it demands a confession, a true indication of intent. It was put there for protection, so that no enemies might cross into our land without alerting us.”
“Confession,” I repeated, remembering the feeling that came over me when I passed under the runes. “The magic still held, it evoked a confession from me as I went through.”
“So the magic still holds,” Killian mused. He rearranged the sticks again, then stared at them for a beat.
I waited.
Then he picked up the sticks and tossed them into the fire.
I had time to see the shape of the rune before he tossed it into the flames. Curved, twin lines crossing. I circled it in my journal, a rune different from the others, a rune that meant something personal.
“No more questions tonight,” Killian whispered, voice rough.
I dared not look at him again. Instead I focused on my words, writing down what I’d seen, what I’d experienced. Jasper settled at my feet, the fire flickered, and Killian stood, shifting into the shadows of the night.