Chapter Six
Kairen
The storm crept in with the sunrise.
Kairen felt it before he heard it—the drop in pressure, the metallic taste on his tongue, the whisper of static crawling along his skin. The Hollowwood had gone silent again, and silence meant the forest was listening.
They had made camp in the shell of a long-fallen tree. Adira slept a few feet away; her satchel clutched to her chest like a lifeline. Even in rest, she looked alert; the muscles at her jaw never quite released. He envied that discipline. His own control came and went like the tides.
He sat with his back to the bark, eyes on the horizon where the trees broke into pale morning. He should have been thinking about the path ahead—about Rindais—but all he could think about was the fleeting kiss between them.
He told himself it was distraction, animal instinct, the half-beast in him answering the scent of warmth and blood and courage. Yet every time Adira spoke, it was the human part of him that responded.
Foolish.
He turned the amulet on his wrist. The metal had cooled since the night before; the binding sigils etched on its surface dim.
He pressed his thumb against them and felt the faint hum of sealed power beneath.
Without it, he’d lose everything that made him a man.
With it, he risked losing the beastly instincts that kept him sharp.
And if he grew complacent, he risked forgetting what he was fighting against—Rindais. The countless lives he had destroyed.
All the things Kairen had to atone for.
The forest grew quiet.
Despite himself, his eyes drooped.
He dreamed.
“These sigils are too strong to work on a human, master.”
“Shut your trap, Kairen. An apprentice is meant to cook and haul coal and sweep the floors. You don’t know enough magic to advise me.”
“But master—”
“Enough!”
A branch cracked somewhere beyond the clearing, bringing him out of his dreams of the past. Kairen was on his feet instantly. The wind shifted; scent hit him before sound—iron, oil, and something distinctly Sunvaaran.
He crossed the clearing and crouched beside Adira. “Wake up.”
Her eyes opened at once. “What is it?”
“Company.”
She rose, already reaching for her dagger. “Rindais’s men?”
He shook his head. “Too organized. Too clean.”
Then she heard them—the language was distinctive. The color drained from her face. “No. It can’t be.”
Kairen watched her realize it the same moment he did. “Your prince has good timing,” he said. “I suppose you were useful until you weren’t.”
“He couldn’t have tracked us here. There’s no—”
The crack of crossbows cut her short. Bolts slammed into the tree trunk above them. Kairen pulled her down, throwing a ward across the opening. The next bolts hissed and ricocheted, clattering uselessly against the shimmering barrier.
“They’ll circle back,” he said.
She nodded, already gathering her pack. “We need the high ground.”
“There’s a ridge east of here. Follow me, envoy.”
They broke from cover as another volley hit. The first soldier stepped into sight—Sunvaaran armor gleaming beneath the dawn, a crimson banner stitched with a crest in golden thread rippling behind him.
Adira’s voice cracked, not from fear but disbelief. “That’s the emblem of the Crown Prince’s personal guard.”
“Then your prince wants you dead personally.”
He caught her arm and pulled her into motion, sprinting for the ridge. The forest blurred around them, branches whipping past. He could feel the magic of the Hollowwood pulsing underfoot, restless at the intrusion.
Adira stumbled once, catching herself on a root. “They’re not supposed to leave the capital,” she said between breaths. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Kairen growled. “Your prince knows you found proof. Proof gets messy.”
They reached the slope—a cliff leading to a line of ancient standing stones at its crest. He sent a pulse of wind to scatter leaves and debris, covering their ascent. Bolts rained through the canopy, one grazing his shoulder. Pain flared, sharp and electric, but he didn’t slow.
At the top, they collapsed behind the stones. Kairen scanned the clearing below. Half a dozen soldiers fanned out in formation, their movements precise and methodical. Too methodical.
“They’re being guided,” he said. “They know exactly how to track us.”
Adira’s hands shook as she drew the sealed scroll case from her pack—the prince’s letter, the one she’d been sent to deliver. “It’s this,” she whispered. “They’re using it as a beacon.”
Kairen stared at the case, at the faint sigil etched into the wax. It pulsed faintly, rhythmic as a heartbeat. “A scrying mark. Clever bastard.”
Her jaw clenched. “Help me break it.”
He took it from her, holding it up to the light. “You sure? Could be booby trapped.”
“I’m already trapped.”
Fair point. He murmured a binding phrase under his breath, fingers tracing sigils in the air. The seal resisted—heat flared, stinging his skin—but he forced the energy back into itself. The wax melted away with a hiss, revealing the rolled parchment within.
He unrolled it. Lines of Sunvaaran script glimmered faintly in enchanted ink. The words rearranged themselves as Adira read aloud:
“Deliver bearer to Rindais. Containment authorized. Consider her a token of good faith.”
He looked up slowly. “It’s not an alliance offer, Adira. It’s a transport order.”
Her eyes met his, wide and stricken. “For me.”
“Alive,” he said. “For now.”
The forest wind caught the parchment, tearing it from his fingers. It disintegrated into ash before it hit the ground. A voice—smooth, cold, unmistakable—drifted through the trees.
“Envoy Sharma,” it said. “You’ve served your prince admirably. Now stand down.”
Adira froze. “Crown Prince Sekhar?” Her eyes darted around. “He’s here?”
“No.” Kairen’s pulse thundered. “Projection spell. Remote relay.”
Light shimmered among the tree trunks, coalescing into the outline of a tall figure clad in the ceremonial gold of Sunvaara’s royalty. The Crown Prince’s features flickered, his expression calm, almost indulgent.
“Sushri Sharma,” the illusion said. “You were always an obedient one. I regret that your loyalty will end here.”
Adira’s hand clenched around the dagger at her belt. “You lied to me.”
“I made use of you,” the Crown Prince said. “For the good of the Empire.”
“And working with a man who uses innocent people as test subjects is for the good of Sunvaara?”
“Power demands some sacrifice,” the illusion said. “It’s a pity your vision is so narrow.”
Rage flared in her eyes, hot and sharp, but Kairen held her back. “He’s not really here. Don’t waste your breath.”
“Rindais will help Sunvaara become more powerful than we ever were,” the prince continued, as if delivering a sermon. His eyes glowed with an unholy passion. “And with his help, I will become the greatest Emperor in all of Sunvaara’s history.”
The illusion flickered out, leaving only the soldiers below—and a sudden rise in magical resonance that set Kairen’s teeth on edge.
“Trap,” he hissed.
Too late. The sigils carved into the standing stones around them ignited, threads of red light shooting upward like a net. Energy crackled, enclosing the ridge in a shimmering dome.
Adira spun to face him, eyes wide. “Can you break it?”
He could feel the ward pressing against his skin, a solid, suffocating force. “Maybe,” he said. “But I’ll need time. And they’re coming.”
Below, the soldiers began to climb.
The first of the soldiers reached the slope, their blades alive with the dull red shimmer of magic. The dome pulsed overhead, humming like a heart. Kairen felt the pressure of it against his ribs, an invisible weight that made every breath heavier.
“Hold them off,” Adira said, dropping to one knee beside the nearest stone. Her fingers flew across its runes, tracing the pattern of the binding. “These wards were written in the language of my people; maybe I can write more and overload it.”
He almost smiled. “A diplomat rewriting war-wards. I like you.”
“Less flirting, more fighting,” she shot back.
The next volley came fast. Kairen slammed his hand into the earth and sent his magic out in a burst of power. Two soldiers were flung off the ridge. The backlash burned his throat; he felt the beast stir, claws raking at the inside of his skin, hungry for release. He forced it down.
Not yet.
Adira muttered to herself, her fingers flying in the dirt. “If I’m right, they just need a little bit of magic to activate—”
A bolt of red energy sliced past her ear, scorching the stone. Kairen moved without thinking, catching her shoulder and yanking her behind him. The blast hit his ward squarely. Pain exploded through his chest; the amulet flared white.
“Dammit,” he gasped.
She steadied him. “You’re hurt.”
“Again? It’s becoming a habit.”
He pushed to his feet as three soldiers crested the ridge. Their faces were blank—eyes far away, magically spelled not to feel fatigue.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
Adira ignored him, snatching one of the fallen crossbows and firing point-blank.
The bolt lodged in a man’s chest; he dropped wordlessly.
Kairen finished two more with a wave of raw lightning that lit the dome from within.
The sigils flickered. Three more soldiers crested the ridge.
At the back, the tallest soldier lingered, his armor gilded in the prince’s colors, ducking out of range of Kairen’s magic.
“Whatever you’re doing,” Kairen shouted to Adira over the noise, “do it faster!” His gaze followed the lone soldier; hand raised against any sudden attack.
“I’m trying!” Her voice rose with frustration. “But just writing the sigils isn’t enough. I need power. Magic.”
He stared at her, realization dawning. “I’ll do it.”
“Kairen, it could kill you.”
He smiled, all teeth. “Then it’ll be a short death.”
Before she could protest, he pressed his palm flat against the stone. The sigils screamed to life, threads of red and blue tangling together. Power tore through him—every nerve ignited, every instinct howling for freedom. He felt bones shift beneath skin, felt the beast surge forward.
The dome shattered.
Light ripped upward in a single column. The soldiers fell back, blinded. Kairen staggered, smoke curling from his hands. For a moment the world tilted; his vision doubled—man and beast, logic and instinct colliding. Adira’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp as a bell.
“Kairen! Look at me.”
He did. Her eyes anchored him, dark and steady. “Breathe,” she said. “You’re here. With me.”
He forced air into his lungs. The amulet pulsed, stabilizing, dimming. When the light finally faded, he was still standing, trembling but whole.
Adira caught him as he swayed. “You insane, impossible man,” she whispered. “You did it.”
He managed a grin. “Told you. Efficient partnership.”
The ridge was in ruins; smoke rose from the shattered stones. The surviving soldiers were retreating. Only one still stood before them—the tall one. When he removed his helmet, Adira gasped.
“You know him?”
“Rana Singh,” Adira breathed. “The Crown Prince’s right hand.”
Rana raised his sword in silent threat. “You should have stayed loyal, envoy.”
“I cannot stay loyal to corruption and immorality,” she spat. “The Crown Prince needs to be stopped.”
His smile was thin. “Then you’re an enemy of the crown.”
Kairen stepped forward, magic crackling along his raised hand. “She’s under my protection.”
“Then you’ll die with her.”
Rana lunged. The clash was brief but brutal—steel against lightning. Sparks rained. Kairen parried once, twice, then drove his hand against the man’s chest. His magic surged through, flinging the soldier backward into the debris of the standing stones. When the smoke cleared, Rana lay still.
Adira stared, breathing hard. “You didn’t kill him?”
“No,” Kairen said. “But he’ll wish I had.”
They stood in the sudden quiet, the storm easing to a drizzle. She turned to him, voice low. “He’ll report everything to the Crown Prince. You’ve become an enemy of the Empire. You may have stayed hidden all these years, but now you’re known to both Rindais and the Crown Prince.”
“Good. Let the prince know we’re not corpses yet.”
A tremor of laughter escaped her, half disbelief, half relief. “You’re impossible.”
“Frequently.” He looked down at his trembling hands. “And not entirely stable.”
“Neither am I,” she said. “We’ll make do.”
He met her gaze. Mud streaked her cheek; her braid had come loose. She looked more alive than anyone he’d ever seen. He didn’t realize he was smiling until she smiled back.
“What now?” she asked.
He glanced toward the distant horizon where a black spire rose against the clouds—Rindais’s tower. “Now we stop running. Tomorrow, we finish this.”
“You mean, confront him.”
“I mean, burn him out of whatever hole he’s crawled into.”
She nodded slowly. Lightning rolled across the distant sky, far off but growing. The Hollowwood whispered around them, ancient and restless. Together they began the descent from the ridge, leaving the wreckage and the corpses behind.
The betrayal had bound them more tightly than any oath. They both knew it. Neither said it aloud.