27
The Cost of Holding Back
Melody
“Leave. Go hunting,” I encourage Aris when he lets out a guttural roar after spotting Kyrith among the students, sporting a shit-eating grin.
The moment we touch ground, Aris makes a show of spreading his wings wide, sending people training there stumbling over their feet to get away as he claims every inch of space, making them press up against the walls so as not to be hit by his wings.
“Show-off. It really looks like you’re having fucking fun,” I say, trying to ease the anger flaring down our bond.
“Language. And it’s not for fun, but for him,” Aris growls—the sound so menacing and deep it shakes the racks holding all kinds of training equipment and draws sharp inhales from the crowd.
Kyrith is the only one who doesn’t react.
He continues sharpening his blade, whetting it with slow, unhurried strokes on a round stone, as though Aris’s presence is nothing more than background noise.
He finally looks up when Aris bends over him and a strand of saliva drips onto Kyrith’s shoulder.
Kyrith’s mouth curves—not into a smile, exactly, but something thinner.
Calculating. The stone never stops moving against the blade.
“Careful,” Kyrith says softly. “You’re standing very close to something sharp.”
“Indeed I am,” I say, casually resting a hand on Aris’s shoulder. “And it isn’t you.”
Kyrith frowns up at Aris, pointedly ignoring me on his back, his words icy as the magic in his veins. “My king’s pet, drooling on a high lord.” His gaze never leaves Aris. “You’d better stay back this time, or my king promised to punish you, demon. Thoroughly.”
He raises his voice on the last word, making sure everyone hears.
Aris’s growl only intensifies, and no matter how much I dislike Kyrith, it takes guts not to run for dear life. But that bastard merely takes a few steps back, grabbing a towel from a rack and wiping the saliva off his leathers.
“I should rip his head off right now,” Aris roars in my mind.
I slide down his back, straighten my shoulders, and walk up to Kyrith with my chin raised high and my spine straight as a rod. His forest-green eyes take in every inch of me—a warrior probing an opponent for weakness. I know I am a walking, breathing weakness, but hells, would I cower.
“Not with your magic,” Aris reminds me.
I block him out and hold Kyrith’s stare, fighting every other emotion that threatens to rise. But Kyrith would smell it on me, and hells, would I give him that.
“One bows before a high lord,” Kyrith drawls lazily by way of greeting, an ugly leer spreading over his ruggedly handsome face.
“Shame that you’re not my high lord.”
I hear a few students gasp and suck in sharp breaths. Apparently, they are afraid of him.
“You’ll regret that,” is all Kyrith says, slick and cool, his entire posture promising broken bones. “And get your demon out of the way, or there’ll be his blood too—not only yours.”
He directs the last part at Aris, his mouth twisting into a slow, deliberate smile that looks practiced—like he’s already decided how much he’ll enjoy it.
“I will kill him! Step aside,” Aris roars.
My head snaps to Aris, who lowers his head dangerously, his pupils dilated and zeroed in on Kyrith. “No way. You heard him—Caryan’s going to punish you if you do anything. Go, get some more sheep or whatever. We’ll see each other later. I’ll handle him.”
“I. Will. Stay. Close. I will not leave you with this monster.”
“No, Aris! Caryan will hurt you, and I just can’t!” I look him in the eye before I put my hand on his scaled cheek. He blinks, irritation rippling through his gaze, but the hunter’s fever fades, and his eyes finally clear.
“Please go. We knew this would happen. You cannot do anything against Kyrith, and I couldn’t bear if Caryan does anything to you.
Or takes you away from me. You hear me?” I open the gates between us fully and let him feel my worry.
My despair. My undying, endless love for him.
I know that this is what ultimately sways him.
Right now, we can’t do anything against Kyrith.
One wrong move, and Caryan would take Aris away from me. Maybe forever.
“You managed to surprise him once. You can do it again. And you are equals when you use your magic,” Aris instructs.
My magic…. The magic that turned those rogues in The Black Forest to cinder. That flayed a soul-eating demon. The magic that hissed inside of me constantly—roaring like a trapped beast in a cage, louder every time I push it down.
“Let it out. You can kill him with it.”
Aris is right—I could probably kill Kyrith with it, but I can’t call it up. I’m not ready. I’m not sure anyone understands.
“Go. Meet you after dinner,” I say again, keeping my mental voice steady while I pull my shields back up and make sure they’re in place and securely locked for what will inevitably come next. Pain.
With a last, vicious snarl, Aris spreads his wings and becomes airborne, sending mats and swords and racks flying.
“No manners—just like you,” Kyrith says once he’s gone.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the students watching the whole scene with wide eyes. “Never gets old hearing it.”I wink at him.
Kyrith licks his teeth. “I heard you decided to skip classes with Riven. Still refusing to channel your magic, are we?”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Yeah? You high lords gossip more than a bunch of old women.”
“Watch that mouth of yours.”
“Isn’t that humiliating? Being sent here to train students and a particularly unruly girl, when you could be out there hunting down rogues and Nefarians?”
I know that hit home by the way his aura shifts and his eyes narrow.
“Oh, I volunteered ,” he snarls, and I monitor every one of his movements—the way he puts his blade away and eases into a fighting stance.
Ronin appears out of the crowd. He lays a hand on Kyrith’s shoulder, but he shakes it off with a snarl.
“Let me! You know she needs to learn.”
My magic roars as I feel his brimming all around him, calling for mine to respond. I clamp down on it and lock it away.
Kyrith tilts his head, his eyes narrowing further. “A tiny, frightened girl—just the way you were when you fled a year ago. What is it? Don’t you want to summon it? Or are you just afraid?”
“None of your business,” I hiss between clenched teeth, refusing to rise to his goading.
“You’ve been given a weapon. You’ll learn to wield it, whether you want to or not.”
“We’ll see.”
“Oh, I’m here to make sure you do. Caryan gave me free rein to teach you all, because war knows no boundaries, no mercy, and the sooner you learn that, the better,” he says.
I can’t stop my heart from making a treacherous leap. What the actual fuck? Caryan gave Kyrith free rein?
Kyrith’s smile only widens when he hears it. “The only condition was not to kill any of you in the process. That’s why I’ve brought two healers with me. So team up in pairs, everyone. Today we fight until one passes out.”
I turn to find a partner, but he says, “Not you. You’re going to team up with me , little silver elfling. Let’s see if we can rid you of that attitude of yours.”
“You’re a sick fucking bastard and a sadist!” I sneer, spitting at his feet.
A split second later, he teleports. His shoulder slams into my ribs, shattering bone as I’m hurled against a wooden bar. My body hits the wood, which gives way on impact, cracking. I taste dirt and blood in my mouth when I roll to the ground.
The magic in my veins surges, no longer just burning but clawing, tearing at the inside of my skin.
I can feel the lightning coiling beneath my flesh, bright and furious, threatening to rip me open and leave nothing behind but ash.
The air snaps and hums, charged to the breaking point, shadows shuddering at the edges of my vision as pain overwhelms everything, drowning thought in white-hot agony.
No. No—
No! Not today! Not ever!
I choke it down with sheer will and force myself upright, shaking.
My fingers fumble through the sand, then close around a wooden training stick, the rough grain biting into my palms as I cling to it like an anchor.
When Kyrith comes at me again, I swing—but my body betrays me.
I’m too slow. Too weak. My head swims from the earlier impact, every breath splintering through my broken ribs.
I force my lips into a grin, blood in my mouth and defiance burning brighter than fear. Just a little more, and he’d lose control. And that’s exactly what I’m counting on.
“That’s it?” I sneer. “All that posturing, and you still hit like a girl.”
Just as I hope, Kyrith’s fist slams into my face.
The world tilts—shatters.
I’m grateful when I fall, when blackness claws me under before my magic can tear free and burn everything and everyone in its wake.