Epilogue
KAGE
Plunk.
Plunk.
Plunk.
Kage stared at the dark ceiling, watching the condensation drip as he lay on the hard bed. The thin mattress did little to soothe the discomfort from the rods running across the frame.
With a sigh, he pushed himself up and threw his legs over the edge.
The soles of his feet hit the ground, and the stone was cold beneath his skin.
He padded over to the bucket sitting in the corner and relieved himself.
The smell of urine filled the cell, but he barely noticed it.
The cell’s stench had gone unnoticed to him a while ago.
He mindlessly rubbed the manacles digging into his wrists.
When Kage had woken after the Pontians had transported him here, he hadn’t known how much time had passed since the battle. When he commanded the guards to answer him, his demands went unanswered.
That first night, Kage had stared at his hands with utter disbelief.
The power that he had spent his whole life searching for was silent.
It was gone too soon, but there was nothing he could do.
The strange, heavy iron on his wrists prevented his connection to the stolen abilities.
If only he had known the manacles existed before.
It would have saved him a lot of hassle. And much less blood to clean up.
For a while, Kage counted the days by meals. He quickly lost interest in that futile task, though. After all, what was the point? He knew his fate.
The seer had tried to warn him once. Kage had thought nothing of it when Lysanthia spoke of his future. Maybe he would have been able to change his fate if he had listened.
A small laugh slipped from Kage’s lips as he thought of what his father would think if he could see his son. He could almost hear his father’s stern voice, the disappointment and anger leaking into every word.
Kage’s laughter faded when he heard the light patter of footsteps clapping against the steps. He quirked a brow. The soldiers were early.
He headed back to the bed and plopped onto it. As he waited for the soldiers to deliver his next meal, he ran a hand along the side of his neck, massaging the permanent kink. His pinky brushed the metal mask covering the lower half of his face. At least he would get a reprieve from it soon.
The clatter of keys neared, and he fixed his gaze upon the small window in the metal door. To his surprise, the window didn’t creak open. Instead, the door pushed open.
Were they here to clean the cell? They hadn’t done so for a while. He supposed it was time.
Anticipating the chain, Kage held out his hands, but the guard standing at the door didn’t produce it.
Kage inspected the guard’s uniform and noted the emblem on the chest plate. Curious about why the captain was visiting him, Kage patiently waited.
The captain pursed his lips as his gaze swept over the cell, as if Kage was only an adornment inside the room. Satisfied, he stepped to the side and ushered someone inside.
At the sight of the woman, the muscles in Kage’s jaw popped. Almost on instinct, he straightened. Even after all these years, he couldn’t help himself, it seemed. She still commanded his attention, just like the first time they met.
"Kage," the Queen of Pontia said in greeting.
Kage arched a brow—his only available response, and the only one he wanted to give.
Esmeray stepped inside the cell as she swept her storm-blue eyes across the space, taking it in. Her nose twitched at the scent of urine and filth.
Kage leaned his head against the wall. The mask dug into his skull, but he didn’t dare show an ounce of discomfort. Instead, he remained unfazed as he observed Esmeray, and she, him.
The passage of time had transformed Esmeray’s features.
Her hands, which she held loosely in front of her stomach, were wrinkled.
Lines creased the corners of her eyes and mouth as if her years were full of laughter.
A different man would have been happy about that, but Kage hadn’t felt happiness since the woman in front of him ripped out his heart.
"I would have visited sooner," Esmeray said, the sentiment spoken as if Kage was staying in some vacation home in the country rather than a prison.
She tilted her chin up, a flash of emotion passing through her carefully controlled demeanor.
"But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see you.
If I even could without killing you myself. "
Kage scoffed at that. The Esmeray he knew couldn’t hurt a fly.
The pain she excelled at wasn’t visible to the naked eye.
Her preferred form of cruelty was a deeper, insidious sort of pain.
A parasite that burrowed under one’s skin, clawing its way toward one’s heart until it could sink its nails into it and rip it to shreds.
Esmeray’s gaze turned icy, as if the raging sea within her irises was freezing over. "You took so much from me: my soul bond—"
Kage rolled his eyes at the mention of Markos. Esmeray’s late husband was no more than a brute with no respect for others.
"—my daughter, my son." Esmeray stepped closer, the silk fabric of her lilac dress melting over her legs. She pursed her lips as if in disagreement about something.
She sighed and continued. "But Kalisandre believes death would be a mercy. Perhaps she is right." Esmeray grabbed the item hanging from her necklace.
Kage eyed the dainty ring she ran between two fingers. He quickly snapped his gaze away from it.
"Losing someone is strange. The grief never really goes away. We think we will always have our memories of them to hang on to. And to an extent, that is true. Many grand memories will remain. But it is the small moments people often forget that hit the hardest. The sound of one’s voice, one’s laugh.
The way someone’s smile would crack at the slightest mishap. "
She slid her other hand across the markings on the wall.
Her fingers trailed over the ticks etched into the stone.
"I thought that with my gift, it would be easier to lose the ones I loved.
I could pull on those memories and lessen the weight of their absence.
I had hoped that the memories would fill the emptiness.
" Her hand fell from the markings on the wall.
"But it only increased it. Once you’re pulled out of the moment and forced to live in the present again, the mourning period restarts all over. "
Kage narrowed his gaze, unsure what game she was playing. Because that was the thing with Esmeray: their relationship had always felt like a game, one he wasn’t sure he ever received the rule book for. He didn’t even know if a rule book existed.
At first, that had been one characteristic that had intrigued him about her, second to her beauty.
When Kage had found her in the woods, the young woman’s brazen attitude and fiery spirit had shocked him.
Esmeray was unlike anyone else he had ever encountered.
She was certainly the opposite of the woman whom Kage’s father had wanted him to marry. Opposite of Troia in all ways.
He wondered whether that version of Esmeray still existed.
When Kage looked at her, he didn’t believe so.
At least, that’s what he surmised from the lilac dress she wore.
Although the silk fabric fell over her frame and draped her hips elegantly, it made her nearly unrecognizable.
The shade of purple, though beautiful on her, was a color she had despised when she was younger.
Whenever she had passed lilacs during their time together, she had shaken them from the trees with an angry vigor.
An act that made Kage chuckle the first time he had seen her do it.
But then she had explained why she hated the seemingly harmless flowers.
Lilacs were all over the castle in Pontia.
In the spring, they adorned every corner, every vase.
The shade alone reminded Esmeray of her future, of the cage she was destined for once she claimed her title.
Now, as queen, she voluntarily wore it.
Esmeray cocked her head to the side. "I’m curious, Kage. Do you remember when we first met?"
When he didn’t nod or shake his head, her gaze dropped to his hands, which were now rolled into tight fists on his lap.
"So you do," she mused.
He silently cursed his hands for their betrayal and uncurled his fingers, revealing the deep red grooves marking his skin.
"You see, I wasn’t sure if you did," Esmeray said. "Because so many memories have been erased from this world—your wife’s name, your past. When I realized I couldn’t remember Troia’s name years ago, I was confused. I’m fairly good at remembering a name once I hear it, if you recall."
She was now standing within arm’s reach of him. Kage could grab her easily and break her neck with a flick of his wrist. He had broken many necks since he was a child. It wasn’t that hard. One sharp tug, and then crack.
But Kage didn’t move.
He didn’t react.
Not even when Esmeray reached out a hand, her long elegant fingers worn with time. She scraped her nail across the iron mask. There was a time when he longed for her touch more than anything. But that was a lifetime ago.
The bone-jarring screech caused him to squeeze his eyes shut as a shiver ran down his spine.
Her fingers wrapped around his neck, and his eyes sprang open as she tightened her grip around his throat. Esmeray’s face was mere inches from his. A storm thundered within her irises, roaring as violently as a tempest.
"Let’s take a trip down memory lane, shall we?"
And before he could stop it, Kage was falling.