Chapter 15 Kailia #2
“Throughout the entire kingdom?” she asked, falling into step beside him. She didn’t fail to notice he shortened his stride for her.
“Most of these merchants stay on this side of the Nightmist Mountains, but there are some who venture west. But the merchants on the other side of the mountains get territorial. There’s an unspoken pact of sorts among them all,” Razik replied, head up and eyes watching everything.
They walked in silence for a bit, and she took the opportunity to get used to the various noises and the presence of people in general. Razik subtly herded her closer and closer to the crowds until they were forced to skirt around them as they wound their way through the people.
Elbows brushed her cloak, and hips bumped into her. She gritted her teeth as every touch burned, heightened by her dream last night.
“Breathe, Kailia,” Razik said, his voice low. With a jerk of his chin, he added, “Let’s go that way. Take a moment.”
He led the way to the edge of the crowd, parting a path for her, and she loosed a heavy breath.
She’d hardly lasted a few minutes. Razik moved nearer to a cart, and she followed, sticking close.
Watching everyone around her. Fingering the dagger she had strapped to her thigh beneath her dress, it offered a sick sense of comfort. She wasn’t going to stab anyone.
Probably.
“Can we go back now?” she asked when the crowd began to swell around them again.
“The way to break patterns and habits is to get uncomfortable, Lia,” he replied absentmindedly.
She turned to find him studying an array of gold objects. From small statues to decorative engravings to platters and bowls, he seemed to look each item over with care.
“All items are from over the mountains,” came a raspy voice as a male stepped into view.
Immortal as most were in Avonleya, Kailia could still tell he was a traveler.
From the wool coat and thick boots, to the scruff on his face and dirt on his hands.
The raspy voice, though, was from the pipe he was puffing on, tobacco smoke drifting into the air.
When Razik only hummed at his statement, the male straightened a little more, puffing out his chest. “Over the mountains,” he repeated. Then he dropped his voice to scarcely a whisper. “From the Runic Lands.”
“I already knew they were fake before you told such a blatant lie,” Razik said flatly.
The male gasped, clearly affronted. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing.”
“The Runic Lands have never been found,” Razik replied.
“Sages and Witches of old know where they are,” the male countered, lifting his chin even higher, and Kailia was mildly impressed by his gall.
“And you are neither of those things,” Razik retorted. Flicking the bowl with his fingers, he added, “I don’t care who you swindle if they are obtuse enough to fall for your tales, but don’t continue to argue with me when I call you out on your deceit.”
The male paled as he stumbled back a few steps, and Kailia didn’t understand why until Razik turned and she could see his face.
See his glowing sapphire eyes where his pupils had shifted to vertical slits.
“Come, your Highness,” he said with a small smirk when she glared at him.
Following, she glanced back over her shoulder to find the male scowling after them.
“You could tell they were fake by looking at them?” Kailia asked.
“They were gold, but nothing more. They were not pieces of history, and they certainly weren’t from the Runic Lands,” Razik answered, guiding her through the crowds.
For the most part, he kept a path parted for her, but every once in a while he let someone get close enough to brush against her. Small doses of physical contact.
While he led her around the city center, he told her of important buildings and businesses.
He spoke of the history of Aimonway, and how it had not always been the capital city of Avonleya.
He gave her a brief overview of the territories along with the lords and ladies who oversaw them.
She’d never remember all of this, but he did it all while she practiced being seen because people certainly looked at the male in the king’s guard uniform escorting the female around.
They all knew who he was, which drew curiosity and whispered conversations about her.
“People are going to think you’re the one courting me,” she murmured as Razik passed her a stick with roasted meat on it before handing the vendor some coin.
He shrugged, clearly not caring. “People can think what they want.”
“And Cethin?”
“Already established, he can fuck off.”
She took a bite of the pork, savoring the flavors that danced across her tongue. The situation wasn’t ideal, but she hadn’t known hunger since agreeing to this bargain with Cethin.
“So you and Wren are not married?” she asked, taking a seat beside Razik on the bench he’d commandeered.
He sighed, obviously annoyed at having this conversation again “Wren and I fuck at times, but that is all.”
“Cethin said there is a difference between lovers and fucking,” she mused.
“For once, he’s right about something,” Razik grumbled.
“So that’s true?”
He paused, his stick of meat halfway to his mouth. Slowly lowering it, he studied her for a long moment. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to know your answer is between you and me, Kailia.”
“All right,” she agreed.
“Cethin said he hasn’t forced anything on you—hasn’t forced himself on you—but—”
She reared back, losing the grip on her food and the meat falling to the ground. “He does that?”
“I didn’t think so, but the way you act, I question it.”
Her entire body was heated with nerves and fury. “While demanding of my time, he is respectable with my body. I find it hard to believe he would be any other way with anyone else.”
Granted, she didn’t know him well, but she was well-versed in reading people.
She’d spent decades studying interactions from her smoke.
She’d seen more than enough despicable things committed by males and females alike.
She knew he could be incredibly cruel. Her life experiences spoke to that truth, so maybe he was capable of such atrocities.
But he’d never even indicated he wanted that side of this union until he spoke of lovers today, and even then, that didn’t mean he wanted that from her.
She cleared her throat, unsure why she was saying anything at all. “Like anyone else, my past has shaped me and my mannerisms, not the few days I’ve spent with your king.”
“That’s fair,” Razik replied, extending his food to her.
She tentatively took it from him and murmured thanks. He nodded, stretching his legs out in front of him while she finished his food, her dropped stick already having been claimed by a stray mutt who’d scampered off.
Several silent minutes ticked by before she said, “Just to be sure, you and Cethin aren’t past lovers? It just seems like—”
“No,” he ground out. “You said Cethin explained the difference between fucking and lovers.”
“So you’ve fucked?”
“Fucking Fates,” Razik muttered under his breath. “No, Lia. Cethin and I loathe each other.”
“It seems like that would make fucking more passionate,” she mused.
“Kailia,” he growled. “No. There will never be an interest there—fucking or lover. I don’t have any interest in a lover altogether.”
“Just the fucking then?”
“Just the fucking.”
“And Wren,” she added.
He sighed. “Wren is different because of the bond we share.”
She went silent again, trying to sort through all that information, and she was about to ask him another question when there was a swirl of dark magic. Razik said nothing as he reached into the magic and retrieved the note.
“Your betrothed is looking for you,” Razik said flatly, the note going up in black flames, but he didn’t make any move to get up.
“We…should return to the castle then?” she asked.
Razik shrugged. “That’s up to you. As your personal guard, I follow your orders, not his.”
“I don’t think that’s how this is supposed to work.”
He shrugged again, apparently channeling his ‘Cethin-can-fuck-off’ energy.
“I think we should go back,” she said, standing and tossing the food stick into a nearby rubbish bin.
“If that’s what you wish,” Razik said, standing as well and extending his hand.
Seconds later, they appeared in the sitting room of their chambers to face a very irate king.
“Get out,” he snarled at Razik, his dark magic clinging to him like inky rivulets on his skin.
“Calm down, Sutara,” Razik drawled, crossing his arms. “We went out for some fresh air.”
“Get. Out,” the king said again, the words a clear warning.
“I’m not sure leaving her alone with you and your temper tantrum is a good idea.”
“I swear to the Fates, Greybane—”
“I’ll be fine,” Kailia cut in, stepping between the two males. “Razik, please go.”
He sent her a flat look, but didn’t say another word as he turned and left.
The door hadn’t even fully shut before Cethin was in front of her, leaning in close. “Where were you, Kailia?”
“He just told you,” she retorted. “You need to step back.”
“What I need is for my future wife to not be out with—”
“With my personal guard? Who else am I supposed to go out with?” she cut in.
“Me,” he growled, somehow stepping closer.
Until her hands landed on his chest, shoving hard. He was far stronger than her, but he was clearly so taken aback by her willingly touching him that he shuffled back a few steps.
“You had responsibilities to tend to,” she said. “You were unavailable.”
“You should have been at the meeting with me, Kailia,” he retorted, beginning to pace in his fury. “You said you were feeling ill.”
“I was feeling better,” she bit back, lifting her chin.
He huffed a humorless laugh. “You were lying, tiny fiend. I’m no fool.”
“That’s debatable.”
He paused mid-step, turning to face her fully. “Even if it had been true, you should have waited for me. Where did you even go?”
She rolled her eyes, moving past him. He followed as she made her way down the hall, these godsdamn boots clicking with each footfall. “He took me into the city to see the traveling merchants. Then we got some food.”
“There’s plenty of food here.”
Perching on the edge of the bed, she unbuckled her boots as she said, “Is your plan to keep me locked in this castle unless you are at my side?”
“What if it is?” he countered.
“It will appear to your kingdom that you do not trust your wife,” she said, standing and tossing the boots aside before unclasping the cloak. “That won’t seem very convincing now, will it?”
Cethin cursed under his breath, running a hand down his face. With obvious restraint, his words were clipped and measured as he said, “Our betrothal has not even been publicly announced yet.”
“You are the king. Can you not announce it whenever you wish?”
His eyes fell closed for a few seconds in obvious frustration. “Yes, Kailia. I can.”
“Then I believe you are the problem here.”
“Fucking Arius,” he muttered.
“Besides, without that announcement, no one even knows who I am,” she went on. “Your reaction to all of this is very irrational.”
Cethin said nothing. He only turned and left the bedchamber. She followed, mainly because she was incredibly curious as to where he was going.
He found a liquor decanter, pouring a finger’s length of the alcohol and knocking it back before doing the same again. Then he turned to face her once more.
“The Beltane Hunt is with the next full moon.”
She blinked at the sudden change in subject. “I don’t know what that is.”
“An annual hunt in Shira Forest,” he said. “I’d like you to join us.”
“Who’s us?”
“There are several Hunts around the kingdom, but I go on one with the Cadre every year.”
“And what do we hunt?” she asked, drawing closer to him. Because she liked to hunt. She liked that a lot. The tracking and stalking. The studying of your surroundings and listening for your prey. The instincts and the intuition. Yes, she would like to attend this hunt very much.
He offered her a small smile, the anger simmering around him fading some. “Whatever we like, usually deer and small game, but you don’t have to hunt if you don’t want to. You can—”
“I do want to hunt,” she interrupted. “But I’ll need my arrow back in order to do so.”
His small smile morphed into a smirk. “You can borrow a bow and arrow set from the weaponry, tiny fiend.”
“It won’t be the same,” she argued.
“Then you’d better start practicing.”
“I’m not using another bow,” she retorted, ashes swirling and her own beloved weapon appearing in her hand.
She could swear he sucked in a sharp breath as he stared at her. Looking at her like she was something exquisite and endearing, and that made no sense. He definitely should not be looking at her like that.
He stepped nearer, closing the space between them.
Lifting a hand, it appeared he was going to reach for her, but he dropped it back to his side with another sigh.
“I have to return to the council meeting at sundown,” he said, regret and something akin to dread sounding in his tone.
“Tomorrow the proclamation can be made regarding the betrothal.”
She nodded.
“Things will change with the announcement,” he warned.
She nodded again, because what did it matter?
Things had changed the moment she’d shot that arrow on that battlefield. And that was why he shouldn’t be looking at her like she was some charming thing capable of answering his prayers and delivering salvation.
She wasn’t any of those things.
Because her favorite part of a hunt was the victory of a blade sinking in deep or an arrow finding its mark.
And she’d been training to hunt Avonleyans her entire life.