20. Killian
KILLIAN
Would it kill father to get some fucking drapes?
Sunlight streamed through Killian’s windows, worsening his migraine and the whirling pit in his stomach that seemed to form every godsdamned morning. Fog rolled through his mind like a thick blanket, blurring his vision.
Can I ever catch a break?
Killian rubbed his beard, fingers catching knots, which reminded him he needed to trim.
He stilled, staring blankly at the white wood ceiling in his bedroom—his childhood bedroom.
Even the same posters from when he was a boy were still pinned up.
He glanced, cracking a half-smile at the picture of the running stallion.
His favorite racing horse, Lulu Lightning. Fastest horse around—well, not anymore.
He sighed, sitting up. A pile of clothes from last week still lay in the corner. Twine still scattered the ground—twine he used for his wall of crazy. Riggs called him a mad man, but it helped Killian plot, helped keep his mind from spiraling into the unknown.
Something his mind already did too much of.
Mad man or not, it made him better at his job.
He frowned at the mess. Paper notes stretched across the wall, string dangling beneath it. Coins and receipts scattered across his desk, accumulating over the past two months. His deck of cards sat in the mix. It was how he had made a decent fraction of his income.
Gambling sober pays off.
Some days, he missed the simple life. When his only duties were being a good husband and a swordsmith. Now, he went where the wind took him, quietly hoping each bounty would somehow bring him closer to finding his wife’s killer.
But what he truly missed was his home. It was much smaller, but it was theirs—and it didn’t reek of steel and sweat.
“Killian, you up?” his father shouted from below.
Killian grumbled. He hadn’t had the chance to tell his father about his latest bounty.
“I’m up!” Killian shouted, slapping his face to fight the fog.
He glanced at Riggs' door, wondering if he was awake. They needed to get a plan in motion. Killian slept in a little longer, just for him. Payback for yesterday. However, they needed to gather as much information as possible before leaving town anyhow, which meant they didn’t have time to spare.
He threw on his typical wardrobe: a white button-down, tan pants, black boots.
Walking into his private chamber, he pulled the lever to the copper pipeline, cold water drizzling on his hands before he splashed his face.
He stared at himself in the mirror, watching the water trickle down his beard.
Now would be the time to clean up. Killian appeared no better than a beggar in Dagon.
More handsome—but still, he wasn’t doing himself any favors.
Killian reached for the blade on his vanity, cleaning the edges of his neckline.
He had considered shaving it all off, but he’d rather keep it.
It was better for his sanity.
His bare face reminded him too much of the man he used to be.
The man who wasn’t home to protect his pregnant wife.
The man who was weak.
The man who failed his family.
“Pops?” Killian called out, walking down the hallway. He stuck his nose in the air, inhaling the bold, rich scent of coffee, the pit inside of him already lessening.
Nothing a cup of coffee can’t soothe.
His father, Rhidian, popped his head out from the kitchen with a spatula, his brown eyes gleaming in the morning sunlight.
“Good morning, son. I’m making breakfast: scrambled eggs and pancakes. Java is already brewing for you and your brother.” He jerked his chin toward the pot next to the stove. “Where’s Riggs? He went to bed early last night. I figured he would be up by now.”
Killian glanced at the cabinet, his eyes widening at the many knife marks.
What the fuck? He reached for a mug, filling it with coffee.
“We had some rough days, but I’ll get him up in a bit.
I owe him. I may have kicked him in the ribs yesterday morning.
” Killian chuckled and sipped the hot liquid, notes of sweet and nutty flavors overpowering his palate.
He pointed back at the cabinet. “Get into a knife fight?”
Rhidian smirked, wiping at his brow. “Just a disagreement with Jim up the road. No trouble.”
“Is he alive?” Killian’s voice was hoarse. Jim had always caused trouble. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jim’s body now fertilized the roses in his mother’s garden.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Rhidian shrugged, flipping a few pancakes in the air. “He fucked with a Whitlock. He knows what we do for a living.” With his free hand, he lifted his tunic, flashing his belt of daggers, winking. “And he knows I’m strapped.”
Just like Riggs.
Another pancake flew through the air. “Go get your brother and tell him to clean up his mess.” He motioned to the many pots and pans in the sink. “He made pasta. Riggs hates pasta.”
“He was acting weird yesterday.” Killian took another sip. “If you see a cat. Don’t be alarmed.”
“A cat?” Rhidian removed the pan off the stove, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms. “For an experiment?”
“I thought the same thing.” Killian’s brows knitted, confusion engulfing his mind. “I’m surprised he was even hungry. We ate at Brodies.”
Rhidian nodded, crossing his arms. “How is Brodie? I’ve been busy at the shop with Zander these last few weeks, I haven’t had a chance to make it over.” He glanced out the window. “But I decided to take the day off and get your mother’s garden cleaned up.”
Or bury Jim’s body…
“Brodie’s busy but good. How’s business?” Killian asked, sliding into a chair at the dining table, already feeling his mind clear. Java was good for that. It was one of the best cures for a hangover.
“We got another order from Kohen. We’re forging over fifty swords. If you’re around, I’d like some help from you boys.” Rhidian set the plate of stacked pancakes down.
“That explains the big breakfast then.” Killian lifted his mug. “And coffee.”
Rhidian hummed, reaching for a pancake and taking a bite.
Killian considered it. He and Riggs could very well be gone for months, possibly longer. His heart swelled looking at his father.
“We can stay a few days.”
Killian knew one thing about time.
You don’t get it back.
“I wanted to talk to you about something as well.”
Rhidian slid into a chair opposite of Killian. “What’s going on?” His dark brows bunched in concern. Right now, his father looked like Riggs.
Killian’s stomach plummeted.
It was the same way Riggs stared at him when he was a belligerent drunk.
A fuck-up.
A failure.
Killian set his mug down, his chest tightening. “I should wake Riggs. We should all talk. Together.”
“Must be bad then.”
Killian stood, arching his brow. “Debatable.”
Making his way to Riggs' room, Killian held his fist up to knock but lowered it.
Riggs was up to something, and Killian was going to find out just what.
He blew out a breath and opened the door.
His limbs froze, his eyes widening at the sight.
A young woman with long black hair, lying on top of Riggs, naked.
When the fuck did he bring a girl home?
From the way she was positioned, he could see her face, could see slight bruising on her cheek. A gash on her lip.
Killian’s hands bunched, inching further into Riggs' room for a closer look at the female. Delicate moon-white skin. High cheek bones.
He knew that woman.
She’d been sitting next to the queen of Dagon.
Princess Esemeray.
All his blood rushed to Killian’s face. “Wake the fuck up!”
Riggs' eyes flew open, his gaze darting between Killian and the princess, who was now awake, eyes wide. She let out a small scream, and yanked the blanket, covering her body.
“Killian! Get out of my room.” Riggs' breaths came in uneven gasps, rolling off and thumping to the floor.
“You’re fucking the princess? How the fuck…”
Wide-eyed, Riggs pushed Killian out of his room and closed the door. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Killian tried to catch his breath, but he couldn’t seem to take a full one, his hands shaking at his sides. “You think?”
“Remember that cat?” Riggs said with an exaggerated sigh.
“Fuck the cat, Riggs. What is she doing here?”
Riggs' face turned crimson, his voice straining. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Calm down.”
Killian shut his eyes, fuming.
“In Eldritch when the ammits disappeared…well…that was her,” Riggs explained. “The princess is a shifter.”
Killian cracked his eyes open, finally sucking down a full breath. Shifter?
“And you decided bringing her home to fuck was the best course of action?”
“I did no such thing.”
“Want to explain why her breasts were all over you then?”
Riggs smirked. “She must have shifted back last night by accident. Will you keep your voice down?”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Killian growled, baring his teeth. “Me and you are not friends right now.”
“Did you even hear me? She is a shifter. That means Elora is one too. This changes everything. This?—”
“Is everything okay up there?” Rhidian called out, his tone dripping with ire. “I hear a lot of fucks being dropped.”
Fuck.
“Yes!” both brothers called out in sync.
Killian shoved Riggs' chest. “You need to fix this. Tell her to return home, or we’re both going to get locked up in that shit hole dungeon.”
“You’d get locked up,” Riggs quipped, “I’d just die.”
Killian fumed, shoving Riggs against the wall with his forearm. “You think you’re so smart.” He warned, baring his teeth, “She. Leaves. Today.”
“Boys!”
Riggs shook his head, eyes darting toward the stairs. “Get off me and shut the fuck up.”
Killian released his hold, backing two steps away to keep himself from punching him in his godsdamned face. “Fix this.”
“I know, I know, I will.”
“Do you know?” Killian scoffed. “Because you two looked awfully cozy just a moment ago.”
“I mean…”
“Drop the smirk.” Killian raised his fist. “Before I wipe it off for you.”
“It’s not what it looks like.” Riggs breathed, “She wants to help find her sister.”
“Absolutely fucking not?—”
Riggs' bedroom door opened.