1. Kyros #2
Astraea spins on her heel, leaving me to watch her walk away.
I let her create some space between us before I inevitably follow.
I don’t press her to talk anymore. I know that she is going to have some emotions to work through before we can have a conversation.
Plus, she’s going in the direction I was going to lead anyway, so I let her guide us while I keep an eye on the deadly threats that lurk in the surrounding forest.
I’m not sure if it’s fear or unease, but I feel a twist in my gut as I navigate this unfamiliar territory of feelings for Astraea.
That, along with the fact that I don’t even feel a tingling of my magick trying to restore yet, is unsettling.
Before I closed the portal, it was a frenzy of chaos, alive on my skin and swollen in my chest, and now I feel—nothing.
Regardless of how much I’ve expelled, I’ve never felt this empty of power.
I tuck my hand into my pocket and wrap my fingers around the pouch of sand from the Dead Sea.
The pulse of power that bleeds from it is unmistakable, and though it doesn’t fuel my inner magick like it did while we were standing in those dunes, it does ease the growing worry that I can at least feel whatever magick is there.
I release it and clench my hand at my side. The wind picks up, sending a whistle of cool air through the trees; the eerie sound brings the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. A sense of dread weighs heavily in my gut and brings my already tense muscles to brace for an attack.
“Shula,” I say in a low growl, and her feet stop abruptly before she turns to face me, vexed.
“Don’t call me that.” She says through her teeth, and her brows furrow into a deep V.
My lips press firmly into a taut line at the way she grinds the words.
Her jaw ticks before she breaks our eye contact, looking out toward the darkness that seems to be pervading the forest even more.
Ignoring the venom in her tone, I inch closer to her.
Slowly, the metal of my sword hisses against the scabbard it’s held in, filling the air around us with the threatening sound of my slow pull of the weapon.
“Take your blades out and keep them up. Be ready.” I whisper, my feet never crossing as I make a tight circle around Astraea, watching for whatever seems to be pressing in on us. Something is out there.
“What is it?” She asks just as quietly, but she does as I say and unsheathes the blades I gifted her from their holsters.
It gives me at least a small amount of reassurance.
The breeze stops after a moment, leaving us in the haunting, bleak surroundings; only our quick breaths fill the desolate air.
In a whirl of movement, everything converges as one.
I am a blur as I spin on my heel, reaching out with one arm to shove Astraea behind me.
I lunge forward as a Cerkin emerges from the shadows with its massive antlers downturned and ready to impale.
My sword arcs up, blocking the sharp points like they are a soldier’s blade and opening the beast up for a deadly strike.
I grunt with the force it takes to penetrate the creature’s bone-laden chest cavity.
The crunch of the sternum cracking beneath my sword and the squelch of blood and flesh reverberate through the expanse of trees around us.
It crashes to the ground with a heavy thud.
My breathing is ragged as I stand over the monster’s corpse, and I desperately scan the forest for another attack.
I don’t make a full circle in my scan before I hear Astraea let out a battle cry of her own.
“Son of a bitch!” A man yells as I whirl around and get eyes on Astraea.
My heart sinks as I see that she has her blade sunk to the hilt in a hooded man’s shoulder.
A few inches from a sure kill, but pride swells within me nonetheless.
I’m already lunging toward them when he rips his hood back.
My feet falter as a laugh of relief and shock escapes me.
I shake my head, coming to a stop behind Astraea, and wipe my bloodied sword on the outside of my pants before sliding it back in its sheath.
Folding my arms over my chest, I roll my lips to conceal a very Mavros-like grin from taking over my face as I watch with barely contained mirth.
“Stay away from me!” Astraea screeches while planting herself to the ground with both feet and pulling downward to twist the blade she still has a death grip on.
Her blue eyes are wild and bright as the moon.
The man she has pinned lets out a frustrated groan, and I tilt my head smugly as our eyes clash.
“What the fuck kind of assassin gets himself stuck like a pig like this?” I ask with a scoff, walking the short distance between us. He narrows his steely gaze on me, and I let my tongue roll over my lips, barely concealing the grin that is becoming increasingly difficult to keep at bay.
“You fucking asshole.” He spits out, “I should have figured it was you after a slaughter that quick. I’ve been hunting that Cerkin for miles now!
” He winces as Astraea looks between the two of us.
“Is this your black cat?” He looks down at the woman in question as she seethes with anger, white-knuckling the blade still, but at least she lets up on twisting.
“She’s learning.” I finally say with a half shrug, and her eyes turn to daggers as they cut to me.
“But, clearly, she’s doing well.” I add, eyes locked with hers.
“Shayd, meet Astraea. Astraea, your attacker is actually a friend of mine, Shayd Taven.” His eyes glint as he takes her in, wrapping his gloved fingers around her hand where she is still gripping the blade protruding out of the space between his chest and the joint of his shoulder, and he smiles down at her in a way that puts me on edge.