Chapter 15 #2
Lory and Evven had chosen a different life, though. One of stealing to survive. Of running and hiding, each day anew, fearing for their lives without hope of any change to come.
Before she could spiral farther into her thoughts, the music stopped, and King Ulder rose to his full height.
“My dear guests,” Ulder boomed in a deep baritone, almost making Lory jump out of her skin.
Her hand tightened on Khayrivven’s arm, her mission forgotten, Lord Niely forgotten, Elina, and even her father forgotten for a heartbeat, as she dared take in the golden face of King Ulder, the man whose fear of Flame-born made him have her kind hunted for slaughter.
A man who knew the prophecy Khayrivven’s father had made well over a decade ago.
The Flame who will be Ulder’s downfall. Lory wasn’t sure how she was so certain it would be her.
It could as well have been Elina, or any other Flame-born woman approximately their age.
But from deep down in Lory’s bones, a prickle of awareness spread.
You, you. It’s you, it seemed to say, and Lory didn’t care to correct it.
When the leonthor had pushed her to pick a side when Khayrivven and General Ycken had rescued her from the cave, she had chosen the coward’s path.
Now that she laid eyes on the monarch responsible for so much suffering, for the persecution of an entire people, for the oppression of a province readily fighting for freedom and self-governance—white-hot anger burned in Lory’s chest, and there was little she could do to tame the fire licking through her veins, ready to devour the man whose words floated past her without meaning or reason, meant only to impress the nobles and courtiers.
“Breathe,” Khayrivven’s murmur close to her ear almost made her scream, but she inhaled a steadying breath—exhaled—inhaled—exhaled.
Three times she repeated the process, her mind spinning as she looked from the man whose blood she shared, to the woman who’d been the reason Khayrivven hadn’t destroyed the entire realm and brought Ulder to his knees, to the king, smiling broadly at his loyal supporters.
The flames died at her fingertips before they could emerge, her control improving with every time she was confronted with something threatening to emotionally uproot her.
Burn this kingdom to the ground you will, the voice reverberated through her body as if coming right from inside her skeleton, as if it was the essence of herself speaking—and oddly familiar in its tone and awkward wording.
The last time she’d heard it had been in the cave, before she’d chosen weakness over what she knew she should have done.
“To protect Brestolya from the evil magic threatening to break it, we shall fight. For the unity of our peoples, we shall fight. For the prosperity of these lands, we shall fight.”
Ulder’s words broke into her thoughts like through a haze, forcing her attention on what was actually going on in the room rather than the odd echoes in her bones.
“We have endured a misguided resistance too long, have tolerated the Criulian rebels too long, have been too understanding instead of answering violence with violence.”
She’d missed the beginning of the speech, had been so swept up in her moment of revelation she could barely follow, but one look at Khayrivven, and she could feel his anger spilling over—becoming her anger.
As if feeling her stare, Khayrivven leaned down, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, “He’s wrapping his intentions of breaking Criulias in the words of a supposed hero.
He wants the world to believe that, with the war he’s been waging against the Criu rebels, he’s saving Brestolya, when all he does is silence voices who might speak up for a free Criulias. ”
How Lory wished she had time to process what was going on: her father, Elina, Ulder’s speech, and the leonthor’s voice reverberating through her body as if it had taken up residence in her bones.
Honestly, by the time the crowd applauded and cheered in the contained and polite way only a court could cheer, Lory’s head was ready to explode, and that was before Ulder reached behind him, holding out his hand, waiting for Elina to place hers into his, then guided her down the carved stairs at the side of the dais onto the dance floor.
Nobles and courtiers scrambled out of the king’s way, bowing as they retreated to the sides of the room, while Ulder led Elina to the center of the dance floor, his guards taking up posts in a half-circle at the edges, blocking the spectators from coming too close to their monarch.
Lory wasn’t sure she imagined the glimmer of recognition in the king’s eyes as his gaze flitted across the room, briefly snagging on her face, before landing on Khayrivven’s.
A hint of a smile graced his mouth, but Ulder’s eyes turned into chips of ice as he measured the captain over Elina’s shoulder.
As if summoned by the silent call of his own blood so close, Khayrivven took half a step forward, devastated eyes on Elina, and his free hand half-raised in front of him.
On Ulder’s face, the ice gave way to the cruel smirk of a man who knew he held the power to destroy the bravest heart Lory had ever known, his eyes flicking to one of the guards at the side, who lifted his spear an inch, discreetly pointing its tip at Elina.
And she couldn’t help it—Lory pulled Khayrivven to a stop before he could do something he’d regret.
The music started on a nod by the king, and Ulder guided Elina across the dance floor in elegant circles, one hand placed on her waist, the other holding hers out to the side as they spun.
Elina’s smile dazzled as much as it disturbed Lory for the absence of any terror in her expression.
If this was a mask, it was so well-crafted Lory couldn’t find a flaw in it.
Nothing about the woman’s movements suggested she was afraid of the king who held her captive as leverage to control her brother. Not one single tell.
Beside her, Khayrivven was shaking, his control slipping; Lory could feel it in her very bones, where the leonthor’s voice had quieted down once more, no longer trying to rouse her into action.
“You can’t.” Not that she could hold Khayrivven back if he decided to confront the king about Elina now, but she could try to step into his path as he took another short step forward, his eyes skipping between his sister and the king who controlled him. “One wrong move and she’s dead.”
Lory didn’t know enough about Ulder to tell if he’d have Elina executed in front of everyone and made a spectacle of, or if he’d make it a quiet event in a back room, exclusive to Khayrivven, but she was certain he wouldn’t hesitate to give the order.
Almost twenty years—
Lory’s throat tightened at how long Khayrivven had endured the fear for his sibling, unable to do a thing to ensure Elina knew the real story.
Who knew what Ulder had told her—did she even know who she was?
Who her father had been? What he’d died for?
Did Elina Falcrest know she had a brother who had resigned into a role of servitude to a monarch he didn’t believe in, just to keep her safe? Did she know any of it?