Chapter 13 Hunger and Restraint
Chapter thirteen
Hunger and Restraint
-Kael-
The hall was still echoing with whispers when Kael vanished.
Like smoke curling through a crack in the stone.
Now he stood alone on the highest parapet of Calyrix.
The wind tore at his cloak. Far below, the sea-black pines of Nythra whispered ancient secrets, and somewhere beyond them, the mountains brooded under a sky that had forgotten how to forgive.
Kael gripped the edge of the stone, fingers curled white. He knew he shouldn't want Maris like this, shouldn't need her. But he did.
He was a Nightbound King. The last heir of the Nythran throne. Half-immortal, predator-born, sworn to no heart but power itself.
And yet…
The image of Maris, flushed with fury, that sliver of raw magic humming off her skin, it played again and again behind his eyes like a forbidden melody.
Her words had been simple. But the claim in them…
Gods. He nearly laughed, but the sound died in his throat.
It had taken all his control not to carry her to his chambers after.
Not to pull her close with the court watching and ask, What else are you hiding, little mortal?
What else burns in you, just beneath the skin?
Instead, he had walked away. He always walked away.
But now… with a twist of shadows he found himself outside her chambers, shadow-wreathed and silent, a wraith of his own making.
He didn’t knock. His hand hovered, clenched, dropped. He paced the corridor like a caged wolf.
What would I even say? He questioned.
“You handled my general’s daughter like a war queen. You ignited magic in front of the entire court. I wanted to devour you where you stood?”
He ground his teeth, head tipping back until it hit the cold stone wall behind him.
She was changing. Faster than he could anticipate. And his people, his court, they were watching. Some in awe. Some in fear. Some, like Astrielle, with blood in their teeth.
If Maris wasn’t protected — if he let his guard drop for a moment too long.
I’ll rip the hearts from everyone in this castle. He thought, but that was too easy. Too tempting.
It wasn’t just possession burning in him anymore. It was something else. Something more dangerous.
Care.
And if he gave into it—
Would she forgive him for everything he’d already done? Would she forgive what he might still do?
Kael exhaled, low and sharp.
The torchlight flickered down the corridor, casting long shadows.
Her door was only ten paces away. So close.
He stepped toward it, then paused.
Just for tonight. He would let her sleep. Let her dream.
But tomorrow?
He would stop pretending there was no choice to be made. Because the court was circling. The gods had begun to whisper. And the girl he had stolen from Eryndor was no longer just a human curiosity.
She was becoming something else.
Something that might change everything. And Kael had no intention of letting her go.
At his back Calyrix Castle loomed like a shadow-cloaked god above the capital of Nythra, but the city below was its lifeblood.
Winding streets. Market stalls. Wine-drenched taverns.
Quiet temples still loyal to the Gods. He shed his title like a second skin and stepped into the dark, cloaked in illusion and quiet magic. No guards. No fanfare.
The cobbled streets were alive even after nightfall, lit by lanterns that pulsed with a faint blue glow mage-wrought. Folk moved like whispers, merchants, thieves, soldiers with wine-thick voices.
He passed them unnoticed. And listened.
“Did you hear what happened at the castle last night?”
“They say the mortal girl nearly killed Astrielle.”
“She summoned magic without a spell.”
“What is she?”
Kael’s teeth clenched. They spoke her name like a prayer and a curse. And already, the rumors were changing shape. In this version, Maris had blown open a wall with her bare hands. In another, she was Kael’s long-lost mate, brought to him by dark magic.
Fools. But fools who carried information.
He ducked into the shadows near a temple alcove, where three old women sat weaving charms from bone and root.
Their conversation stopped when he approached.
“Evening, stranger,” one croaked, narrowing pale eyes.
Kael didn’t speak.
Just let a sliver of his power slide beneath their skin enough to loosen tongues.
The oldest spoke first.
“Your king stirs the cursed blood. Takes a mortal to his table and lets her spark like a match in kindling.”
“It won’t go unanswered,” said the second. “Calanthe watches. Their seers have seen fire rising in Nythra. And they wonder what burns at its center.”
The third, blind but smiling tilted her head. “Tell your King this: the enemy kingdom doesn’t need to strike just yet. The people will do it for them, if they fear her enough.”
Kael left before his silence gave him away.
He walked the crooked back alleys until the city gave way again to forest and stone.
And all the while, the storm churned in his gut.
Maris’s power had cracked more than just the air between her and Astrielle.
It had cracked his kingdom’s delicate balance.
It had cracked him. And worse still, it had lit a beacon that Alarik would see.
Kael could already feel it.
His rival would be watching. And waiting.
-Astrielle-
While Kael returned to his palace of stone and secrets, another figure slipped under shadow.
Cloaked in plain traveling furs and with her copper hair hidden beneath a coal-stained hood she was unrecognizable.
Astrielle moved quickly as she knew the palace guards by name, as well as, which ones would look the other way for coin.
She had spent her entire life preparing to stand beside a throne.
Trained from the moment she could hold a blade.
Raised to fight with words just as well as steel.
Groomed to charm, to seduce, to bear power like a crown.
And now — cast aside. For a mortal. A trembling little mouse who flinched in battle and dared to wear lace like a queen.
Astrielle’s fists clenched under her cloak.
She had tried everything, training harder, staying loyal, enduring the quiet humiliations but Kael hadn’t looked at her since that night. Since the mortal girl danced in front of all of them and nearly brought down the room with a whisper of power she hadn’t earned.
But there were still ways to win. And sometimes, betrayal was the truest form of devotion.
She reached the far edge of the capital, where a crumbling garden wall separated the city from the wild wood. A lone traveler waited there with no weapon visible, but the sharpness in his silver eyes said he didn’t need one. Astrielle pulled back her hood.
“You’ll take the message?” she asked.
The traveler nodded once. She handed him a folded page, sealed with wax but unmarked.
Its contents were simple:
The mortal girl displays power. Untamed. She is favored by the King. His guard is fractured. Now is the time to strike.
She didn’t sign it. She didn’t need to. By dawn, that letter would find its way into the hands of a spy traveling north.
And from there, to Calanthe. Let them come.
Let the rival King see the threat Kael tried to hide.
If Maris fell in the crossfire, so be it.
Astrielle would stand in the ashes. And maybe then— Kael would finally see her again.