Kyzen #2
I force myself to breathe through the ridiculous spike of anger. Lack of sleep, hunger, worry, it’s all getting to me and I’m acting like an ass for no reason.
“Last night stole that process from her.”
Something cold settles in my gut.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“All of those things she’s been holding beneath the surface…they were already rising. Slowly. Manageably. Last night forced them up all at once. And now she’s trying to push them back down. It isn’t going to go back down.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
Not even a little.
I study his face—really study it—and the concern there isn’t surface level. It’s deeper than that.
Instinctive.
His power sees something we can’t.
That makes my soul shiver in my chest.
She has come a very long way, especially with communicating with us and telling us how something makes her feel.
The last thing I want is for her to hide whatever she’s feeling right now.
“After this settles down and we get some alone time, I’ll talk to her.”
“Good,” he says, relief threading through his words despite him trying to hide that. “And I’m…here, if she ever feels comfortable enough.”
I snort before I can stop myself.
“I’m glad you don’t take her previous rejections personally.”
A smirk tugs at his mouth as he shrugs.
“My power has never been anyone’s favorite. I’m used to it. Even my own Binder tells me to stay out of her business from time to time.”
That pulls a quiet chuckle out of me just as the door creaks open behind us, and we both turn.
“Oh. It’s just you two,” Lambrit says, poking his head out.
“The others should be back soon,” I say. “You want to come take a breather?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”
He shuts the door before I can say anything else, and I arch a brow, glancing at Iric.
“He’s not fine,” I mutter.
Iric watches the door for a second longer before responding.
“No,” he agrees. “But he’s not just distracting himself either.”
Something in the way he says it makes my spine straighten.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s organizing.”
I frown. “Yeah…that’s pretty obvious.”
“I mean, he’s organizing everything,” he says, shaking his head. “Grief. Blame. Action. Outcome. And when someone like him starts putting things into order, they don’t stop at what’s in front of them.”
I blow out a breath harsh enough that my lips flap together. That’s something I’m familiar with. Valories know once Amick gets his mind set to something, there’s no stopping him.
“Well, in my experience, organizing is definitely not the worst distraction or coping mechanism. There’s a hell of a lot more dangerous or stupid ways of handling grief.”
“That’s one hundred percent true,” he grunts, nodding in agreement as I gesture toward the door.
I’ve had a long enough breather, and Thayla’s soul is in over-the-top ‘let me make sure all my men are alive mode.’
The moment we step inside, the delicious aromas hit me even harder.
Gods, that smells good.
Iric and I follow the sound of giggles and the scent of something sweet.
My gaze immediately finds Thayla, leaning against the counter with her chin resting in her hands and a tender smile on her lips.
Laney stands on a chair pulled up beside Annalise, and her small hands are buried in a bowl as she mixes something with far more enthusiasm than precision.
Flour dusts from her nose down the front of her shirt. There’s something sticky on her cheek. If I had to guess, it’s Annalise’s famous thickened sweet cream she puts on top of her muffins.
There’s a bright smile on Laney’s face.
Annalise stands beside her, calm as ever, guiding her with a grin. She lets the mess happen, but has her hand braced behind the bowl so it doesn’t go tumbling off the edge.
“Slow down a little, Laney.” Thayla chuckles. “You’re wearing more of the food than there will be to eat.”
Laney giggles, not slowing down at all.
“I want it to be ready when Creed gets back,” she says, like that explains everything.
My chest tightens, but I manage a small smile as I step further into the kitchen.
“Is that so?” I ask. “What about me?”
She cuts her eyes at me, faking a serious stare. When I mimic the look, she laughs, then focuses on her task.
“You can have some too, but Creed gets extra because he said he’d get all my things.”
Annalise glances up at me with a soft and knowing expression. My gaze travels over to Lambrit’s dining table, where he, Rose, Yemi, Doren, and now Iric sit. There’s a quiet heaviness lingering over them as they silently sip their coffee.
Thayla’s body leans into mine when I brace my hands on the counter and crowd behind her. A soft sigh flows through her nose as I lay my lips against her temple.
Then she scoffs as I steal her mug and down the remaining bit.
“Rude,” she snorts. “You can fix me some more.”
“Sure thing, little goddess.” I chuckle.
I spin toward the table and return Yemi’s small smile. She’s so damn observant. I swear not a damn thing gets by her.
“It’s so cool you’re a goddess, Thayla, and Lambrit’s a god. Will I be a goddess someday?” Laney asks.
Lambrit whips his wide eyes in her direction like the thought of that never crossed his mind. By the looks of it, he doesn’t care too much for that idea.
“Um, well, yeah. I believe you will be,” Thayla says.
“Because I live here now?”
Thayla shifts from side to side on her feet. Her eyes search mine for an answer when I step beside her and set her fresh cup of coffee down.
“Yep,” I say, smiling brightly at Laney. “When you get a little bit older, you’ll have what’s called a Coming-of-Age Day and that’s the day you get some of your power.”
Her eyes widen, then she grins at me like I just made her dreams come true.
“I can’t wait to grow up,” she squeals.
My mouth parts, ready to tell her let’s not wish away time, then I immediately decide against that. She goes back to stirring the muffin mix feverishly, and her random bouts of laughter fill the silence that settles around the house.
Every now and then, quiet murmurs drift from the table over here, but nothing is spoken loud enough that she or Thayla and me can hear.
Time passes us by normally after that, although nothing is normal at all. It’s incredibly strange for me—no doubt my brothers as well—to be in a situation like this.
We aren’t grieving, but we’re hurting for them. Thayla, Lambrit, and Laney. It pains me to witness them in this phase of mourning and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.
Cracking jokes doesn’t feel right.
Flirting seems like I’m crossing an inconsiderate line.
Raging out would probably make this ten times worse.
All I can do is…be here.
Laney freezes for a moment with a spoonful of sweet cream an inch from her mouth when the sound of the door opening echoes through the house. Not a second later, the voices drift through as well.
She squeals, then hops down from the chair so fast it nearly tips behind her.
“They’re back!”