Chapter Forty Seven
The Gift
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Phaenon City, Nythanor.
Kyra.
She probably should have stayed with the Air Warden. Probably should have offered some sort of comfort or consolement after dropping Kano’s bomb of a revelation on her.
King Therion had lied.
He’d already picked a side, years ago. And it hadn’t been theirs.
What had Azar promised him, Naal had pondered, for him to so willingly relinquish his throne?
Would Therion become a steward of Loros, and not king as he had been for centuries, in Azar’s conquered world?
Did he think that once Droria was united under her rule, that he would be able to revolt against her reign, and take power for himself?
Questions. Questions, questions, questions.
With no answers.
Kyra had left Naal and her inner circle of Eternals to deliberate.
What good was her voice, when she knew nothing of the world, of Kings and Empresses and warfare?
Not to mention she was exhausted beyond the physical.
It had taken an obscene amount of magic and energy in order to access Kano’s memories, to banish King Therion’s hold on him once and for all.
She’d dismissed herself shortly after delivering the news, and fell onto her sheets the moment she stepped into her room, awakening a good ten hours later in the exact same position she had fallen asleep in.
It was around the time that dinner would be served; she could hear Eternals in the hallway on their way there. But the thought of being in that hall, around Naal and the inner circle with this new omen over their heads, made her want to be as far away as possible.
She knew it was selfish to traipse down to Phaenon City in search of a drink that would numb the senses, instead of staying to brood with the others.
But it was hard to care when she was alone, truly alone from any companions for the first time in weeks, tucked away in the corner of the establishment, waiting impatiently for the only drink they seemed to have on offer.
It was unlikely to be anywhere near as good as a Sarlalian red but… anything would do at this point.
It wasn’t really a tavern. More a dome shaped hut of stone, covered with skins to keep the warmth of the blazing fire in, and the bitter cold out.
At least the people of Phaenon had been able to revert back to some sort of resemblance of their old lives; the hut was crowded, many dancing and chanting around the fire sat blazing in the centre, drinking horns in hand as they moved freely to the lively, thumping beat of a drum.
After a couple of tankards of whatever it was they drank here, maybe she would join them. Take the edge off.
‘Leave the bottle, if you would,’ Kyra said to the maidservant who brought a bone tankard over and poured some amber looking liquid inside. ‘I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.’
The woman frowned at her, and Kyra realised she probably didn’t speak the common tongue.
Knowing little to no Nythanorian herself, she passed a few silvers over, probably way too much, and pointed to the bottle.
The maidservant nodded her understanding and left, pocketing the coin without complaint.
Halfway through the bottle, she was beginning to contemplate getting up and joining the rosy-cheeked patrons in their wild, primitive and somewhat sexual movements around the fire, when she saw Kawai pushing through the crowd.
Her heart sank.
‘So this is how you’re dealing with things now?’ he said, sliding into the seat opposite her, puffing with the effort of peeling off his many layers. ‘Drinking alone?’
‘Now?’ she stiffly replied, taking a glug of the strong, fiery liquid. It wasn’t overly pleasant, but it was doing its job. Her head was happily swimming. ‘I’ve always dealt with things this way. Nothing new here.’
‘One: that’s a lie. And two…’ He leant forward, his floppy dark hair falling in front of his face. ‘You’re avoiding me.’
Kyra looked away. ‘There’s been a lot on my mind.’
‘Then talk to me.’
‘About what?’
‘Anything. Everything.’
‘Like what?’
He blew out a breath. ‘Fuck, Kyra, I don’t know. Just not this. Not this silence.’
‘I have nothing to say.’
In her peripheral, she saw him lean back, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘No. You just want to fuck when it suits you.’
Kyra stilled, her eyes unblinking and locking on a couple grinding against one another by the fire. His mouth on her neck, her crotch on his leg, their friends laughing and jeering from the sidelines.
She dragged her gaze away and levelled Kawai’s. ‘Do you want it to stop?’
‘No. I just want it to mean something. I thought it did mean something.’
Kyra willed tears to remain firmly behind her eyes. ‘It did.’
‘So, what? You’ve changed your mind?’
The hurt that flickered on his lovely face had her wanting to scream. She reached for the bottle. ‘I’m not sober enough for this conversation.’
‘Then stop drinking,’ he said through gritted teeth, gripping the bottle’s neck to stop her from lifting it.
She glared at him, then sat back, diverting her attention once more to the people dancing. Drinking because it was fun to drink, not because they wanted to drown out the noise that made them want to rip their fucking brains out.
Kawai’s glower was burning a hole through her cheek. ‘I want to help you. I want to be that person you go to when you feel alone. When you feel lost, or… or broken. I don’t know why you won’t let me do that.’
‘You owe me nothing, Kawai.’
‘For fucks sake, Kyra, I know I don’t. Why is it so hard for you to believe that I might actually care about you? That I might actually love you enough to want to help?’
That word. That fucking word. Why did he have to say that word?
Eyes now stinging with the difficulty of holding back tears, she whispered, ‘It’s not your job to fix me.’
‘No. You’ll just stew by yourself until you implode. Real healthy behaviour.’
She slammed a shaking hand on the table. ‘It was a distraction, is that what you want me to say? You want me to admit it? It was never real, Kawai. You and I. It was nothing. It was always going to amount to nothing.’
‘Nothing,’ he repeated, shaking his head with a humourless snicker.
‘I’ve had nothing plenty of times before, Kyra.
All I’ve ever fucking had was nothing. What you and I had…
that was not nothing. And you know it too.
So you can keep pushing me away, but eventually you’re going to realise you’re lying to yourself. ’
Forcing her voice not to shake, to be void of emotion, she said, ‘It’s done, Kawai. Whatever it was, whatever we shared, whatever we felt… it’s done.’
She couldn’t look at him.
For she knew she would break if she did.
A horrible silence clawed its way between them. Kawai stood, donning all the layers he’d thrown to one side when he’d arrived. But he didn’t leave right away.
He looked down at her, and asked the question she’d been dreading for days: ‘What does he mean to you?’
A cold, heavy stone dropped through her stomach. ‘Who?’
‘You know who,’ he said coldly. ‘The fire guy. Gedeon. The first time you saw him in the Council Room, you looked like you’d seen a ghost. I didn’t ask about it because it was your business, not mine.
But then you saved him that night and since then you’ve been off.
You could have fucking died when you went after him, but you did it anyway. So, who is he to you?’
She whispered, ‘No one.’
Kawai pulled his hood over his head, golden eyes darkening under shadow. ‘You’re a terrible liar. But if we’re done then I guess you can fuck him when it suits you now instead of me.’
She watched him leave. Watched until he disappeared from view.
Meeting Gedeon had ruined everything.
Tears spilled then, thick and fast. She swiped them furiously from her cheeks and poured herself another drink. Another ticket to numbness.
The want to dance left her as swiftly as Kawai had. But she sat and drank the whole damned bottle until the patrons were a blurring, swirling mass of bodies.
She was very busy filing her nails down on the edge of the hard wood table when someone else occupied the lonely seat opposite her.
Mankar. Even through squinted, inebriated eyes, that much was clear. He was bigger than any male or man she’d ever seen.
He wore a very serious expression. Very sombre, indeed. ‘Did Kawai send you down here to berate me for being a bitch?’ she asked, slurring through the words. ‘Or am I to be scolded for escaping my imprisonment?’
He heaved an exasperated sigh. ‘You’re drunk.’
‘If everyone was drunk, no one would be,’ Kyra said philosophically, waggling her eyebrows. ‘So, am I drunk, or are you just not drunk? Hmm? Bet you never thought about that, did you?’
Mankar let his head fall into his hands, but she heard him mutter under his breath, ‘Gallena save me.’
Kyra snorted. ‘Save you from what? Drinking? It’s easy. Here, I’ll teach you how-’
‘No,’ Mankar said, his hand closing around her wrist just as she was about to call over the maidservant. ‘I’m not here to drink with you.’
‘Boo.’
‘Kyra, stop.’ His tone was firm enough it made her look at him. Made her shut up. He let go of her wrist and stood. ‘You’re needed in the temple. Now.’
She eyed him, swaying. ‘Something’s happened.’
He gave a slow, grave nod.
What could have possibly fucking happened now? She’d only been gone a few hours. ‘What?’ she demanded.
Peering over his shoulder, as if to ensure no one was within earshot, he braced his hands on the table. ‘Blythtrie has been taken by the Crown Prince of Zarynth.’
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Nothing could have sobered Kyra up more than what lay cold and waiting in the Council Room.
Akraia.
The nymph twin Kano had fallen in love with, dead on the stone table, her torso painted with dark blood.
Well, Mankar had failed to mention that.
Kano was standing at the nymph’s side, his wet eyes glued to her still face, as if he were waiting for her to wake up.