Chapter Fifty Eight
The Sun Always Rises
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Gallena’s Temple, Phaenon.
Kyra.
The room was awfully warm. Stifling, almost. Her clothes were becoming damp under the roughly cut furs upon her back and shoulders. But Kyra did not take the coat off. She sat in that uncomfortability, almost relishing in it. A physical suffering akin to the one that ravaged her heart and soul.
The door had clicked shut behind Naal a few moments ago. Gedeon remained still in his seat next to her. He hadn’t moved. Neither had she.
What could she say to him that hadn’t already been said? What was the point in saying goodbye?
What was the point in anything at all?
She could not help the hopelessness that had crept beneath her skin. Naal’s parting words had been beautiful. It should have helped ease the heaviness within her. But it hadn’t.
Kyra was beginning to feel that nothing ever would.
Mother. Father. Rosary.
Those she loved had been taken from her in a desperate attempt to force her into following a fateful path.
Taken. Used. Killed.
She was beginning to despise her own existence. No matter what Gedeon and Naal had said, she knew she was right. If she died, no one else would have to suffer.
They’d all be safe from being Empress Azar’s collateral fucking damage.
‘I do wish you’d stop hurting yourself.’
Kyra looked at Gedeon. Had she somehow been sharing her thoughts with him? Had he heard everything she’d just been mulling over?
His gaze flickered down to her hands.
She’d been picking the skin around her fingernails again without even realising.
They were red raw. It was a new development.
Or more of a resurrection of an old habit.
‘I… used to do this after my parents were killed. I only stopped when I met Rosary.’ She stared blankly at the blood slowly welling up around the nail on her forefinger.
‘I suppose there’s nothing stopping it again now. ’
‘One day there will be,’ he said quietly. ‘I promise.’
‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Gedeon.’
‘I never do.’
She believed him.
‘I will see you when this is all over,’ Gedeon said. Kyra felt the words unsaid: If we survive.
Despite what she had said before about wanting control of her own destiny (and every word had been the absolute truth), she found herself suddenly reluctant to say goodbye to him.
She was sure that the pacifier within her had only emerged from his influence.
Without him around… she didn’t know if that newfound peace would endure.
Despite the fire in his veins, he was more grounded than she could ever be.
Her opposite, in so many ways.
As though he had read her mind, Gedeon said, ‘I do not want to say goodbye to you.’
‘Is that the bond talking or are you actually going to miss me?’ The lightness of her tone surprised even her.
He gave a true, soft smile. Those were scarce on his face. ‘The latter.’
Kyra doubted it, but she didn’t contest it. ‘Where do you think Naal will send you?’
‘Back in the ice cell, maybe, as punishment for following you to Zarynth.’
‘Did you come with me because the bond was telling you to?’
‘It was telling me to do the opposite. To keep you here in Phaenon. To keep you safe.’
‘Then… why did you change your mind?’
He took some time before replying. ‘Because I didn’t doubt for a second that you would go to the ends of the earth to save Rosary, even if it meant forfeiting your own life.
When I saw that truth in your eyes, I knew I could never let you go alone.
That desire to help you overrode what the bond was telling me to do.
And despite what happened, despite falling right into the trap my mother laid for us, I regret none of it.
Because for once in my life, I truly feel I chose the right path. One that was not rigged by fate.’
Tears lined Kyra’s eyes for an entirely different reason.
‘Kyra, will you promise me something?’
‘That depends on what it is. I also don’t make promises I can’t keep.’
Gedeon reached over and took her hand. He ran a thumb over the raw skin on her forefinger.
The gentle touch sent a shiver running up her spine.
‘When you want to do this, when you feel like you need to hurt yourself to stop feeling, I want you to project to me. I do not care what time of day it is. Project to me.’
Kyra wanted to remind him that they were supposed to be staying away from each other, lest they begin to act on the bond that tethered them.
But having someone, a friend at least, that she could rely on whenever, wherever, was too tempting.
She didn’t know where Naal might send her now, what she’d be required to do, whether or not she’d be alone or with a whole entourage.
Having someone she could rely on, who understood the extent of her hurting, who’d been there when Rosary had… when she’d…
She needed it. She needed him. In this small, seemingly insignificant way.
‘I promise,’ Kyra whispered.
Gedeon’s thumb moved over her fingers one last time as he studied her face as though committing it to memory.
Then he removed his hand from hers and stood.
Starlight twinkled in his onyx eyes. ‘For what it’s worth, no matter what happens next, no matter what has already come to pass, I am eternally grateful to have had the chance to know you. Not as my mate… but as you. As Kyra.’
Kyra’s tongue seemed to tie itself in her mouth. She didn’t know what to say. Gedeon, apparently, did not need a response. His parting smile was small, and she watched him leave with a knot of guilt in her heart.
She should have told him.
She should have told him what the Black Throne had shown her.
When the time was right, she would. This she promised herself now.
Maida’s chambers were hollow now Gedeon had left them. She was quite alone.
Yet, all of a sudden, she didn’t feel it. Something inside her, for once, had heeded Naal’s words.
Her fingers were taut with a chill, despite the sheen of sweat that clung to her skin beneath her clothes. She moved to the hearth and crouched by its shimmering embers, splaying her hands out before her. Rosary’s golden signet ring sat gleaming on her middle finger.
In another life, it had been a gift for the lone wolf. Rose’s absence had left her feeling more alone than ever. But somehow, through that loss and all-encompassing despair, there was something else tirelessly fighting off the steely grip of writhing shadows.
A faint glimmer of hope, clinging to the unshakeable, intricate bonds of love.
That was Rosary. That was her parents. That was those she loved that still lived. That still breathed.
Later, after tipping a few drops of Maida’s potion concocted for a dreamless sleep, Kyra lay on her bed and waited for it to steal her away from the painful dimension of consciousness. In the nightmare-free coma that would follow, she would find peace away from fear. Away from grief.
But she was the sun.
And just as the sun rose each day, so would she. And the day after that. And the day after that.