13. First Touch #3
He shook his head. Refused to believe it, to give the question shape. His hand dropped to his side. His vision narrowed on her. She was flushed. Shaking. Wearing a thin white gown soaked through with sweat. Her silver hair was matted to her temple.
“Kail…” she whispered. “I swear it…I’ll find a way…”
But she wasn’t speaking to him.
She was looking at his brother, silver eyes soft and dazed.
Devoted.
Focused.
And Shu’Khan did not stop her. Did not correct her. Instead, he answered in Kailorien’s voice. Not the emperor’s polished thunder. No. This was low. Tender. Soothing. A perversion of comfort.
“Hush now, Ilphara,” he murmured, stroking her temple. “Sleep. Heal.”
The word cracked like a hammer across Kailorien’s spine.
Ilphara.
A sacred word. A word meaning beloved. Rarest of epithets.
Something that should have been his.
Auryn reached for something in her delirium and found Shu’Khan’s face.
“Your earring,” she frowned. “It’s…gone…”
Shu’Khan caught her hand in his and pressed it to his chest.
“I removed it. Just for tonight,” he said. “Sleep now…rest…”
His twin brother was mimicking him.
Perfectly.
The pitch, the cadence, the rhythm of breath between words—every syllable of it was Kailorien’s. As if he’d studied his voice long enough to wear it like a mask.
Kailorien’s breath turned to knives in his chest.
At last, Auryn closed her eyes. She went still and quiet against Shu’Khan, and his brother—his brother smiled. Stroked her hair. Her cheek. Her neck.
Over twelve centuries, Kailorien had perfected the art of leashing his own fury, and in this moment, he had to draw on all of that experience.
Anger flared through his very pores, a kind of flash that blinded him to everything except his brother’s face.
His hands shook, itched for his blade. The runes on his spine, back, and shoulders rumbled as his rage brought them to life.
“Seravael,” he said. The floor shuddered beneath his feet.
His brother’s true name.
Only he knew of it.
At its utterance, Shu’Khan turned.
“Iridias,” he smiled, returning the tone in kind.
“Your hands,” Kailorien said. “They’ve wandered.”
Shu’Khan tilted his head, then rose, unhurried. He held Auryn like a lover might, arms cradling her as though she were something precious.
A lie. An illusion.
Shu’Khan held nothing in such high esteem.
“Your anger will damage the flooring,” his brother drawled. “Misplaced, don’t you think? Considering We are merely offering assistance.”
Kailorien’s hands clenched so tightly at his sides that his nails bit into his palms.
“Assistance?”
Shu’Khan looked him up and down. Inspecting. Searching.
“Your little Sokar wandered in here all alone, unguarded. So, We generously offered our company to ensure the Resh’Agar was keeping to his duties.”
Beneath Kailorien’s feet, cracks formed in the marble. Shu’Khan looked amused. His blue, frigid eyes snapped back to Kailorien’s.
“Rest assured, she witnessed it all, Iridias.”
He stepped closer, seeming to glide along the floor even with Auryn in his arms. His bracelets jingled as, with deliberate grace, he placed her in Kailorien’s arms. She sagged into him with a soft moan. Her heat was alarming. Her pulse raced like wildfire.
“You gave her entry,” Kailorien hissed. “You allowed her to set foot in here? To see the ritual?”
To see the monster I become?
To witness all that?
“We did. Out of pity. Or curiosity. She was stumbling around. Lost. Her connection with you caused her to feel the backlash of the ritual. A shame she did not cast a consecration ward.”
Shu’Khan stared at her for a moment, then stepped back and straightened the cuffs of his robe, as if nothing unnatural had transpired.
Kailorien held Auryn tighter against him. “Stay away from her, Seravael. I won’t repeat myself again.”
But his brother did not look intimidated in the least.
“She felt it once,” he said, voice smooth as velvet. “And she will feel it again. And again. Every time, Iridias.”
Kailorien’s eyes narrowed.
Shu’Khan smiled. “Might We suggest an alternative?”
No answer.
“She has been researching your runes. Their volatility. Their nature. We will sanction this. Support it.”
“You’ve already poisoned her enough.”
“Ah,” Shu’Khan said, tilting his head. “We know that look. Pride. Possession. But you cannot protect her. Not from this. Not from Us. This web is too layered for her to navigate alone.”
Kailorien’s voice was like molten steel. “You are the heart of it.”
A pause. Shu’Khan chuckled. Quiet. Fond.
“How astute of you, Resh’Agar. But tell Us—is it not better to have the spider’s loyalty…than to oppose him in his own web?”
Kailorien’s fury surged. “You have no loyalty. Your motive is to spread your venom.”
And still, Shu’Khan didn’t look at him.
He looked at her.
“Perhaps,” he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “But We did not expect her fire. Or this…compassion.” For a moment—less than a blink—his blue eyes grew warm. Nostalgic.
“It gives Us pause.”
And then he was done.
With Auryn.
With Kailorien.
With the whole thing.
He turned and glided away, not looking back as he vanished into the shadows.