Chapter Forty Three
A Dance Of Life And Death
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Gallena’s Temple, Pheanon.
Kyra.
Somehow, though her mind was a thundering swirl of shame, grief and fear, Kyra slept.
Mankar had been the one to relieve her from the ice cell, and the moment she stepped foot in her room (which appeared to have been completely untouched, save the fire crackling in the grate), she threw herself on the bed and slept.
And slept and slept and slept.
In her dreams, a throne of blackened wood called to her. Over and over it called, but it was not her name. Earth Warden, it whispered.
Kyra had never seen such a thing, nor heard such a voice. And when she awoke suddenly to the soft sound of knocking at her door, it took her a moment to shake that ancient voice away.
She stretched her arms wide and rubbed at her eyes.
Her body was stiff and still caught in the grasp of deep sleep.
She had no concept of time in this room; there was no natural light to be found in the centre of the mountain.
She might have been asleep for hours. Days, maybe, and she wouldn’t have known.
The knock sounded again.
Praying it wasn’t Naal on the other side of the door, Kyra padded across the room and cracked it open.
Kawai was leaning against the doorframe. He straightened instantly, his gaze raking over her puffy face. ‘Kyra, are you-’
‘You’re alright,’ she breathed.
‘You’re not.’
‘I’m-’
‘Do not say you’re fine,’ he said angrily, pushing himself inside her room and shutting the door behind him.
‘Naal told me you went to Avaldale. Did you free your brother? She didn’t tell me much else.
She gave me a bit of a grilling too, by the way, for my part in the tomb.
I would have come sooner, but I didn’t want to disturb you last night. I thought you’d need the rest.’
Delicately, Kyra pulled back the collar of his shirt, revealing a jaw shaped scar at his tanned neck. One that would never fade. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.
He laughed. ‘You weren’t the one who tried to rip my throat out.’
But it was her fault he’d been there. It was her fault. All her fault.
‘What happened in Avaldale?’ he said, gently caressing her arm. ‘Did someone hurt you?’
She shook her head.
‘I told Naal over and over again you weren’t a fucking spy,’ Kawai said darkly. ‘Throwing you in the ice cell… what was she thinking?’
‘She had every right to,’ Kyra murmured. ‘I still betrayed her trust, even if it wasn’t in the way she initially thought.’
‘Did you do it? Did you free your brother?’ he demanded again.
Kyra nodded solemnly.
‘Well, that’s good then, isn’t it?’ he said with a reassuring smile, running a thumb over her cheek. ‘You did what you set out to do.’
At what cost?
Raymond’s rolling head scolded her mind. The scent of burning flesh of Nythanorian men affronted her nostrils. The snapping of Zuriel’s bones swarmed her ears.
She shook her head, lip trembling.
Kawai’s smile faded. ‘Kyra, what-’
She shook her head again, more fervently this time. ‘Please,’ she begged. She didn’t even know what she was begging for. Didn’t know why she couldn’t tell him about it. About any of it.
He looked a little hurt, but nodded as though he understood. ‘Okay,’ he said, then opened his arms to her.
She hesitated for a split second, then buried herself into his warmth, the waft of lavender and peppermint hitting her nose. An ointment for his scar, she absent-mindedly noted.
His arms tightened around her as he pressed his lips to the top of her head, and in that moment, it was enough. He was enough.
A perfectly blissful, comforting distraction.
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Later that evening, Kyra found herself in the small Council Room at the pramah’s request, squished next to a surly Nysari, and sat opposite an even surlier Zuriel.
The latter appeared to be fine. There were no physical tells on her body of what Kyra had done to her.
It was the first time she’d seen Zuriel since it had happened. She wanted to apologise, wanted to somehow explain that it had been an accident, that she had never meant to hurt her in such a way.
But she couldn’t do it here. Not in front of everyone else.
Kyra hoped she might catch Zuriel’s eye, perhaps let her see the true remorse she felt, but the Eternal seemed intent on ignoring her existence. Chin held high with importance, her gaze never lingered on the space where Kyra sat. Almost as if she were not there at all.
Despite herself, Kyra couldn’t blame her.
The Fire Warden was about to be trialled for his crimes against Nythanor, questioned for his apparent betrayal of the Empress of Zarynth. The room waited in near silence for the prince to arrive with his escorts.
Naal headed the table, the chair directly opposite her vacant, Kyra supposed, for the Fire Warden to fill. Maida sat to Naal’s right, followed by a male Kyra didn’t know the name of, then Kano, who looked as though he would rather be anywhere else.
The poor boy still had no memory of who he was. Kyra made a mental note to attempt again to bring it back, after this ordeal was over.
The room was not built to sit more than the eight people at the table, especially with great feathered wings to contend with.
But Naal had also invited some witnesses.
Kawai was amongst a standing congregation of Eternals, and a woman of early to mid-thirties with auburn hair whose olive, freckled skin was somewhat ashen.
She was as stony faced as the warriors around her, and Kyra might have been convinced by the indifference if it were not for the fact she was twisting her hands in front of her. The only tell that she was nervous.
The Fire Warden’s companion, no doubt.
Any chatter dwindled to silence as Naal stood. Despite their altercation the night before, Kyra had to admit that Naal’s ice cold, no-bullshit demeanour was impressive. She was every bit the famed, wise, warrior Air Warden in this moment. ‘Bring him in.’
Kyra’s heart leapt into her throat.
Last night she heard Gedeon Dewmaul’s voice for the first time, in real time, and not through a projection. In seconds, she would lay her eyes upon his face. In the flesh.
For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to turn around as the door opened.
No one said a single word. Yet the anger and hatred that sizzled through the room was palpable. A quiet, simmering contempt so thick it felt deadly.
At least they hated him more than they hated her right now. A small, stupid relief.
The chair beside her scraped, and the two Eternals who had flanked him shoved him in front of it, then moved to stand guard behind.
The prince’s hands were shackled in black iron, his skin covered in cracked sores. Kyra forced her gaze up his body, which was clad in plain beige Nythanorian robes that looked strange on him, until finally, she beheld his face.
They’d done him the courtesy of trimming back his beard to stubble, and pulling his waving black hair from his strong face. He was not the frozen mess he’d been the last time she’d seen him. In fact, he looked relatively fresh for someone who had been locked in a cell of ice for weeks on end.
And… beautiful.
Profoundly beautiful, in ways she had never bothered to notice in their projections. Was it the way he stood, with his shoulders held regal and firm? Or the slight bump in the ridge of his nose? Or the small dip in his chin, or the cheekbones chiselled from stone?
No. It was none of those things.
It was something else entirely.
A something she could not name.
Obsidian eyes slid to hers, and Kyra could have sworn she saw pure starlight shining in the depths of them. They stared at one another, barely blinking, barely moving a muscle, and yet the world around them was tipping. Spinning. Jolting.
For a moment, Kyra’s skin was faintly aglow. She clamped down on it with all her might, willing it to disappear. If someone had seen-
Someone cleared their throat, and the Fire Warden ripped his eyes from hers.
Breathe, you fucking idiot. Breathe.
Why had she held her breath? She was losing her mind.
Naal’s voice rang out, cold and flat. ‘Gedeon Dewmaul. You are here to stand before the Eternal council and Droria’s Wardens for your crimes against Nythanor and for crimes against the nature of the Warden and by extension, the Mothers themselves. Do you deny these accusations?’
Unable to help herself, Kyra risked a glance up at the Fire Warden. His attention was fixed on Naal. ‘No,’ he said, his low voice soft yet rumbling.
‘Do you admit,’ Naal went on, ‘that the destruction of Phaenon city was committed at your hand?’
The Fire Warden peered at the wine-haired woman next to Kawai. Her freckled face was stricken. ‘I do,’ he said firmly.
The woman looked down at her feet.
‘And do you admit to using the powers given to you by Eraura for destruction, and not for protection and balance as it is intended?’
‘I do.’
The silence in the room was so dense, Kyra was certain every single person was holding their breath. Goddess knew she was.
With a jolt, she realised that all four Wardens were gathered in the same room.
‘Gedeon Dewmaul, Prince of Zarynth and Fire Warden,’ Naal said. ‘You face certain death should the council vote against you. Do you have a defence?’
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Gedeon.
An overwhelming part of Gedeon wanted to say no. The part of him that despised himself just as much as the people around him did.
But a choice had been made the moment he had fled the Black Castle with Amala Opherion in hand. A choice he had to see through now, lest he forever view himself a coward.
So, he said, ‘There is no true defence I can give that will atone for my actions. But I will speak on why I am here. Why I have betrayed my mother and country.’
‘Then speak, prince,’ Naal Westerra said coolly. Gedeon had never met her before, but there was a strength and power emanating from her that matched every description he had ever heard of the great Air Warden.
Gedeon resisted the urge to look at Kyra before speaking.
He had no speech prepared, but he let the words flow anyway, letting the truth in his heart run his mouth.
‘I do not come to you to beg for forgiveness, nor to seek refuge following my banishment from Zarynth. The attack made on Phaenon was not an order I took lightly from my mother. Regardless, what is done is done, and I cannot change my choices, my actions that cost many lives.’
At this, Sunsi shifted and Gedeon knew from her earnest expression that she was about to say something, about to claim that it was Sekun, and not Gedeon, who had ultimately destroyed Phaenon City.
He shot her a single, cutting glare. Her mouth closed.
He continued, lifting his chin. ‘I come to you, Air Warden, because my sight has been restored in new, sharp clarity. Since my banishment I have seen, in my home city of Dracyg, how my citizens are treated. My people are suffering, and have been for centuries. I regret I did not see it sooner. As Fire Warden, I should have known, I should have realised. But I am no longer blind. Empress Azar will not confine her tyranny to Zarynth alone, this you know. War is coming, and I stand before you now to beg you to be ready for it. Do not forgive my mistakes. I certainly cannot. Kill me if that is what you see fit. I will not stand and beg for my life to be spared, should that be your decision.’
Gedeon did not take his eyes from the Air Warden’s. ‘But I will implore you to use me. Allow me to be the Fire Warden, to serve this realm in its entirety, as you have done for almost a millenia. For freedom. For peace.’
Naal Westerra held his gaze, though her expression revealed nothing.
The white-haired Eternal archer who favoured a tipped arrow leaned forward.
‘If you live, how will you atone for your crimes? My father was killed in your city. Was it by your hand?’ Her voice was smooth, and yet the venom behind it could have melted stone.
‘It was not my hand that killed him,’ Gedeon admitted, knowing exactly who her father had been. ‘And I will atone however the council sees fit.’
‘If it were up to me, you would already be dead.’
Naal held up a silencing hand. The archer said no more, but leaned back in her seat, black wings bristling. ‘Why come to us now, Gedeon Dewmaul?’ Naal asked.
Gedeon paused for a moment and allowed himself to ponder the question. There was truly only one answer. He hoped it would be enough. ‘Perhaps, in more ways than one, I simply saw the light.’
Naal Westerra watched him, her entire body as still as the mountain.
Gedeon could glean nothing of her thoughts from her impassiveness.
‘I have heard enough,’ she eventually said.
‘I have requested each of you at this table to give your vote on the Fire Warden’s justice.
Let your decision be led by the wisdom of the Four, and not by the longing vengeance in your hearts. ’
Gedeon spied two flat crystals in Kyra’s fidgeting hands: one black for death, one white for life. They clinked together, life and death brushing intimately against the other.
‘Place your votes.’
Unsurprisingly, the archer’s hand was the first to slam on the table, defiantly leaving a black crystal before her. She glared at the male next to her as he hesitated, twin or brother by the resemblance, but then he too lay the black stone.
Two votes for death.
The red-head to his left revealed a white crystal. The archer hissed disapprovingly.
The healer chose black. As did Ruven.
Four for death. One more black crystal and his fate was decided.
He could hear Kyra’s pulse quickening with each crystal laid. Sweat beaded at her brow. She was yet to lay a crystal.
The Air Warden, to his utter surprise, chose white. ‘Kano?’ she said gently to the only human at the table, a boy still in adolescence.
His brown eyes darted from the archer, to Gedeon, to Kyra, to Naal. ‘It’s… it’s not my place. I’m not worthy of a vote.’
‘You are the Water Warden, Kano. I would not have asked you to be here if I did not think you worthy. Your voice matters here, as much as any of ours.’
Gedeon hadn’t been sure who the boy was, but Naal had just confirmed his suspicions. The lost Water Warden had been found.
The Empress would not like that when she learned of it. Not one bit.
Kano’s fearful eyes flicked to him once more, but then he lay a white crystal.
Three for life. Four for death. It all came down to the Earth Warden.
To Kyra.