22. Kyros
Chapter twenty-two
Kyros
Just as always, Kaeleith is ready and awaiting our arrival.
She has a spread of more delicious food prepared, steaming and ready for us to devour as soon as we arrive back at the cottage.
The old dweller eyes us from her stool in front of her cooking hearth, ladle in hand and a knowing glint to those foggy eyes.
She has not said much since our entrance, though.
Ruaan, on the other hand, has not stopped asking questions.
I run my hand down my face for what has to be the tenth time in the last half hour.
He jumped right back into the conversation that we were having before Astraea’s magick manifested.
His determination to prove his thinking only doubles, and he continues to spew off at the mouth, asking question after relentless question.
I don't even know what it is he is saying anymore about his theory.
It seems our time away has only fueled his spiral.
“Explain.” I bite out through thinly veiled anger.
Every twitch of a smile on Ruaan’s smug face makes me want to reach for my newly returned shadows.
I would love to wrap them around his arrogant neck.
The fact that he knows more about my twin flame than I do at the moment makes the bubbling rage in my veins feel like rancid poison.
He is going on and on about her magick and the fact that she is Senka-born.
I am vaguely familiar with the term. My brother and I are two of the last of our kind, or at least that’s what I’ve always thought.
Shadow-born. Just as my father—King Kratos Ruvaen—was.
“You were there, in the dunes. Were you not paying attention?” His lip curls with the question as he watches my fingers flex into a tight fist.
“I was a little preoccupied with killing fucking Cerkins and saving my—the princess.” I say through clenched teeth.
For whatever reason, I choose not to inform him of my bond with Astraea, and I don’t look at her to see her reaction to my outburst. She has been very quiet since we’ve returned.
Likely in her own head, running over all the questions and comments Ruaan has been going on about.
He may have my attention at the moment, but he sure as hell has a lot to prove to gain any semblance of my trust. “Please continue your explanation of what it is you think I missed…” The words are seething as I begin to pace.
Recounting everything I can about that night.
He tilts his head as he eyes me with a grimace, twisting his lips.
“Did you not see who stepped out of the portal?” His coughed-out laugh quickly turns to skepticism as his eyes track from where Astraea sits, and he reads whatever it is that he sees on my face.
“You are Senka-born too, are you not? I saw the shadows you wield, and from my understanding, only those who are Senka-born can render portals the way… well, the way you do.” My jaw ticks at the implication that I don’t know about my own magick. I don’t let him know as much, though.
“Spit out whatever it is you aren’t saying, Ruaan, or so help me.
” I stop pacing to lock my eyes with his.
From the corner of the room, I notice the shrewd look brandished on Kaeleith’s face as Ruaan stands silently staring at me.
My eyes flick between the two of them before I shake my head. “We don’t have time for this.”
“We need to learn as much as we can.” Astraea’s voice is like a balm, soothing and far closer than I thought she was.
Her hand is warm as she curls her fingers along the back of my arm.
My entire body physically softens as I turn to her, and she doesn’t turn her gaze away from mine as she addresses Ruaan.
“Ruaan, maybe consider that stress is high right now and get to the point.” Heat blooms in my chest. This is the confidence I love to see coming from her.
Kaeleith stays quiet as I swallow, and Astraea's hand slides down my arm, and her hand settles in mine. I take a deep breath, holding onto our connection. Turning my exasperated stare at Ruaan, I wait impatiently for him to continue. Ruaan’s voice is even, almost reverent, when he finally speaks again at Astraea’s encouragement.
“The Queen of Diemos stepped through a portal rendered by a Senka-born—in a form that should only exist within the realm of shadows and sleep, Kyros. Have you not considered how?” He asks pointedly.
I grind my teeth together in frustration, as I don’t have a clue as to what he’s talking about—the nightmare creature?
The fact that it somehow ties into my background as a Senka-born and I don’t know how only serves to piss me off more.
I turn to fully face him, brows flat and lips tight.
It takes every ounce of restraint I have to not storm across the room and rip him from his chair.
“What are you not saying, Ruaan?” My voice is sharp, and it pierces the air between us.
Kaeleith narrows her milky gaze on me, and Astraea’s grip tightens.
When he says nothing to answer me, I turn to the woman at my side.
The warmth in her eyes conveys patience, urging me to do the same.
I let out a sigh, shaking my head, and when I turn to face Ruaan again, I see the smirk on Kaeleith’s face.
The dweller seems amused by our whole exchange. My jaw ticks.
“I don’t understand how you have questions about this? Were you taught nothing about your heritage?” Ruaan asks incredulously as he leans forward in his chair.
“From what I’m putting together, those who taught me all that I know about my magick clearly have left out some major details.
” My eyes flick behind him at Kaeleith. I know the implication is clear to her that she is among them.
“Tell me, how is it that you know so much about the Senka born?” I spit back at him.
He simply sighs, pushing back the sleeves of his tunic.
Ever so slowly, dark misty-looking markings I instantly recognize begin to solidify along the length of his arms, and his eyes finally lift to mine.
“Because I am Senka- born too.” This does nothing to give me answers but instead only brings on more questions.
My jaw clenches as I study the markings.
I’ve only ever seen such markings on myself and Mavros and what I remember of my father.
My biological father. Now, not only does Astraea wear them, but Ruaan too?
Silently, my eyes trail back up to meet his.
“My turn for questions.” He says, tilting his head.
“I know you are more than the appointed heir of Diemos and the rightful heir of Eathian. I think the question we all should be asking is, how do you have shadows that belong only to those with royal blood?” His question is directed at Astraea, and it punches the air from my lungs because he’s right.
If only royal blood carries these markings, what royal line does she come from?
As I contemplate his questions, my attention becomes snatched away by a loud crashing sound that comes from the bedrooms. Our heads all snap in that direction in confusion.
Astraea is the first to go bounding through the hall.
She rips the bedroom door open that Colette was resting in, and I hurl myself into the room right behind her.
Cursing at her recklessness. The bed is empty.
The sheets are rumpled and half hanging from the mattress.
A lone candle has burned out, and the wax drippings have pooled on the wood.
Only a sliver of light comes from the drawn curtains covering the window.
The tray of food on the bedside table has been knocked over and strewn out across the floor, a clear sign of a struggle.
It’s a matter of seconds as we take in the chamber before a whimper sounds from the connected bathing chamber.
“Colette?!” Astraea is frantic as she moves to run into the darkened doorway. I wrap my arm around her middle, stopping her.
“Wait. You don’t know what could be in there with her.” I growl, and she thrashes in my arms.
“It’s Cole!” She barks as though that is enough to convince me to let her go. She levels me with demanding eyes.
“Let me go in first.” I grind out. Her chin dimples with emotion, but she concedes with a nod, allowing me to pass her.
The bathing chamber is dark; no windows or candles are burning to see by, but I somehow notice her red hair through the shadows.
Slowly, like I am approaching a wounded animal, I drop to my knees and reach for her.
“Get a light,” I say calmly to whoever is able behind me.
Ruaan lights a candle, bringing it to the doorway and illuminating the room in a dim amber glow.
Colette’s red hair is a frenzy of knots, wild atop her head, and her eyes are wide.
The redness there matches her vibrant hair.
No one else occupies the small space but us.
Worried, bleary eyes of vivid green finally lift to me, where she too sits on her knees.
Her lip trembles as she shakes her head, but she doesn’t say anything right away.
One trembling hand grips my forearm for support.
I can sense Astraea behind me, inching forward.
“I’m so sorry,” Colette whispers, lifting her gaze over my shoulder.
Her head sways as she tries to keep it upright, clearly still struggling with her head injury.
When I turn, Ruaan stands at Astraea’s side, the bottom half of his face lit from where he holds the candle at his chest, and his other arm pressed to Astraea’s upper back in comfort.
His face is cut into dark shadows as he sternly eyes Colette.
“I’m so sorry,” she says again, much more resolute than before.
When she finally turns her desperate stare back to me, she nearly falls into my arms that are still outstretched toward her.