26. Kyros #2
“Shit. Take my hand!” It’s a struggle to even open my eyes, but when I do, Ruaan is down on all fours reaching into the debris under the pillar I hold.
With a solid pull and grunt of strength, he pulls a woman free.
As I look her over, I suddenly recognize her features.
She is the woman from the market—the same one who sold Astraea’s blades to me.
Her face is covered with soot, and she’s wheezing even more than she was the day before the Shula Morana.
Tears fall down her blackened face, allowing the pale coloring of her skin to show through the filth, like lines on a map.
“My gr—gr—” She mutters as my arms vibrate with exhaustion.
“Shit, the boy! Get the boy!” I bark through my clenched teeth.
I have to do everything possible to keep the support from crushing him.
Ruaan crawls further under the heavy pole, and the room suddenly becomes darker as he expels his shadows, using magick to pull the boy free.
They both fall back, Ruaan on his ass and the boy limply cradled in his arms. I can’t hold the beam any longer.
Colette and Astraea rush to Ruaan’s side.
I’m going to drop the beam. “Everyone clear out! When I drop this, the roof is going to cave!” Astraea’s eyes meet mine, and the fear that crashes into me is all hers.
My muscles tremor under the weight. I feel my grip slipping.
I’m worried about using my magick, having just gotten it back.
Everything is happening so fast. Viltarin pulls the woman to her feet as Colette helps him pull her from the building.
Ruaan pushes to his feet, the body of the young boy still limply sprawled out in his arms, and Astraea lingers a moment too long.
Fuck. This can’t be happening. We are all going to be buried alive.
Ruaan pushes Astraea out of the front door, and I have never been more grateful for him.
I can no longer hold the support, and finally I am forced to let it drop.
As it falls, I bolt for the exit. The roof caves in right behind me.
The crash is loud and sends a plume similar to an explosion out of all the doors and windows.
The force catapults me forward, and I land ungracefully on my shoulder and slide across the cobbled street in my attempt to get away.
There is no watching the settling of dust. No staring at the collapse in wonder at how the hell we all made it out alive.
I jump back to my feet because there is no time for wonderment of what just happened.
No, it is still chaos. Colette is on her knees rubbing the center of the boy’s chest, slapping his cheeks and yelling into his face to wake up.
She orders Viltarin to get water, and he sprints off in search of it.
Ruaan stares at both the child and the woman, seemingly in a whole other place entirely.
The woman whose head is cradled in Astraea’s lap locks eyes with me before coughing and blood trickles across her lips and onto her chin.
“Please, save him. Tell him—” The boy's grandmother turns her head to look at her grandson and coughs uncontrollably.
More blood staining her mouth and lining her lips.
“I tried.” A blood-filled tear rolls out over her soot-covered face, making a trail of red across her cheek, and then she blinks up at the sinking sun for the last time.
As much as I want to place blame on Connard, there isn’t just one man responsible for all the destruction these people have endured—for all I have endured.
I know it, and everyone else in this room knows it.
I feel responsible for bringing this on them, for bringing the wrath of two kingdoms on the people who were most supportive of me.
A feeling of desolation fills the air of the small cottage we find ourselves crammed into.
There are so few survivors. A town such as Aithne was not meant to see this sort of battle.
The people here were not soldiers, but even so, every one of them who died at the Shula Morana celebration died a warrior’s death.
Ruaan sits at the head of the table in the dining room.
His eyes are narrowed in concentration as he watches Colette fuss over the boy, who miraculously looks as though he is mostly uninjured.
Even if that is the only luck he carries today…
When I look at the boy laying listless on the bed, I can’t help but feel as though I am looking through a mirror to the night I lost everything.
It’s not the same, though. I at least had my brother.
Astraea sits alone, her back pressed against the far wall. Her eyes are locked on the boy as she holds her hands palms up on her filthy lap. She needs to be cleaned up and even more so needs sleep. I think we all do after the night we have had already.
“You doing ok?” Viltarin asks, snapping me back into the present, and offers me a tankard filled with water. I take it with thanks, and he offers me a tight smile in return.
“As good as I can be in a situation such as this.” The sigh I let out is long and heavy as Viltarin takes a seat next to me on the long settee pushed up against the far wall.
Again, my eyes flick to the front door. Subconsciously, I think I am just waiting for my brother to walk into the cottage, cracking some stupid joke about how he knows he’s been missed.
“Mavros has to be okay, Ky.” He says, his voice lowered an octave, but I hear what he doesn’t say aloud. I hope.
The mention of Mavros’ well-being has me unknowingly clenching my fist in my lap.
Every muscle in my body is tightening with even more frustration.
I need to find so many answers. Answers to questions I don’t even know how to ask: about my magick, Astraea, Mavros, and the future of the fucking kingdoms. Each question is only adding more tension to the very fiber of my being—the fiber that is already threatening to snap at any moment.
Beckett went back out shortly after we all got settled in here to take care of the boy, saying he would fetch Rowan.
Everyone was more than eager to voice their concern about my need to rest after the strenuous rescue.
I am worse for wear; that much is clear as I look down over my body.
My tunic is ripped, covered with ash and soot, and drenched in sweat.
My hair clings to the back of my neck and forehead from where it’s fallen from its tie.
My hand trembles increasingly with every day.
I grit my teeth as I watch the weakness continue to grow.
My shaking fingers curl into a fist where I have it resting on my leg, and I watch as Viltarin takes notice too.
“Maybe you should take a minute and go get cleaned up. We will be right here when you get back.” Vilatrin urges, eyebrows drawn as he looks up from the tremor in my fingers.
How can I think of something so mundane when everything around me feels as though it’s crumbling?
My muscles ache from the tension. I feel like they have been coiled tight for so long.
Sitting confined in this room is helping nothing.
Finally, I nod, eyes drifting back to where Astraea sits.
“You're right.”