Chapter 11 #2
Warmth spreads through my chest. Of course Ruben’s solution is to talk things through. The exact opposite of Kyor. And there are definitely some things I could do with unburdening myself to him, but right now probably isn’t the right time.
‘I might take you up on that,’ I tell him.
I glance back into the corridor, and my stomach knots.
If anything, the tension between Kyor and Stefan has increased, though I don’t know how that’s even possible.
‘I need to go train, but if you can keep an eye on the others for me, I’d really appreciate it. ’
‘Of course. Have fun training,’ he adds, flicking his gaze towards Kyor and Stefan, who seem locked in a silent glaring contest.
A spark lights in Ruben’s eyes, and he lifts his hands as if he’s about to bring them together in a familiar triangular shape, but I slap his palm away before he can.
‘Don’t you fucking dare.’
He grins back, clearly pleased with himself at having managed to rile me so early on in the day. ‘Have fun, Rosey.’
‘See you later, Ruben. We’re good to go,’ I say to Stefan. ‘Battle yard?’
‘A visit to the temple is necessary before we begin,’ Stefan replies.
I can’t help glancing at Kyor. His eyebrows flick up as amusement flickers across his features. Morathkians are more of a fight-now-pray-later kind of people. You can’t pray for forgiveness until you need it.
Another definite difference between the Issen and Morathkians, beyond dining preferences.
Stefan leads the way, and at the end of the corridor, I notice Ylva is still seated on the chair, a book on her lap and a large pillow behind her back.
She flashes me a smile. ‘Have a good day, Princess,’ she says.
‘Call me Rose, please. But thanks, Ylva,’ I reply gratefully.
Loitering prison guards definitely feel more in line with Korvane’s style, but guards with manners and a book to read while they work? That doesn’t feel very threatening. Hell, it doesn’t even feel particularly prison-like. No locks on the doors to keep us in, no visible weapons on Ylva.
Little Raven, do you need us? Fen’s voice filters into my mind, warm and steady. Elska and I are somewhat tired after last night, though we would like to do some further exploring. But we can return for your training if that is what you need.
No, no. I’m fine. I have Kyor with me.
A low rumble of approval vibrates through the bond. He has never hidden the fact that he approves of my choice of mate, as he insists on calling him. No doubt us being together makes it easier for him and Elska, though in truth, I don’t even know how long the pair have been mated for.
If you need me, I will never be far away, he promises, his voice whisper-soft as he travels further from me.
I know, Big Guy.
I feel his huff rather than hear it, and it makes me grin.
Kyor jerks an eyebrow in question.
‘Fen,’ I mutter.
He nods. Enough said. And I love that it is.
‘After prayers, we’ll start with the basics,’ Stefan says as we step outside. ‘See what you can do. Which areas need the most work, would you say?’
‘Everything’ is the answer that leaps to my mind. But before I can say it, my attention is caught by a group of children playing.
They stand in a circle, each taking a turn using their magic.
One steps forward, creating a flurry of snowflakes that swirls in a perfect spiral.
It twists around his body with flawless control.
The motion is smooth and constant, the illusion of constantly falling snow sublime, although none of the flakes actually reach the ground.
‘The control he must have,’ I whisper to Kyor. ‘There’s not a single flake out of place.’
Without warning, the spiral changes direction, shooting into the sky until it vanishes. Polite applause follows, and he makes a small bow.
The next child steps forward and creates an entire chandelier of ice that hangs in mid-air, refracting light so precisely that each child in the circle is illuminated evenly. It’s not a coincidence. It’s pure control.
The pit of my stomach tightens and my mouth drops open. I can make ice blades. Freeze the earth. But nothing like this. These children have more control in their little fingers than I do in my entire body, and that’s galling to realise.
With a slight clearing of his throat, Stefan reminds me that we’re not meant to be hanging around watching children play, and so we continue to follow him through the streets.
‘This is the temple,’ he says when we reach a building with a simple archway as an entrance. ‘I have already prayed this morning, so I will leave you in peace with Oel.’
I step towards the archway and Kyor moves to follow, but before he can, Stefan catches his arm.
‘She does not need you to accompany her to pray.’
‘Of course not. She doesn’t need me for anything,’ Kyor replies tightly. ‘But if you think I’m leaving her alone with a bunch of priestesses in a city I know nothing about, you’re very wrong.’
A faint crackle of sparks flickers between his fingers.
‘Emotion is your problem,’ Stefan says evenly as he releases his grip. ‘You would be far more powerful with a little self-control.’
‘Is that right?’ Kyor’s jaw tightens. ‘Maybe one day we’ll see which works best – your rigid-ass self-control or my emotion.
Tell me,’ he grinds out, ‘how does that repressed attitude of yours extend to losing the throne? I mean, I would be more than a little pissed if someone just swept in out of nowhere and was announced as the new heir.’
‘Well, I guess that’s another difference between you and me,’ Stefan replies, his tone totally even, although I could swear the temperature drops even further.
‘Kyor,’ I warn quietly. ‘Can you just not?’
‘What did I do?’ he protests with a shade too much vehemence.
‘You know full well what you did, Kyor Knavin.’ I hiss out a breath between my teeth. ‘No threats.’
‘I didn’t threaten him.’ He pouts innocently. ‘It’s just a friendly conversation, right, Stef? You don’t mind if I call you Stef, do you?’
‘Not at all,’ Stefan says. ‘Stef Valar was a great warrior of our people.’
Kyor’s jaw tightens as the insult fails to land.
‘Come to think of it,’ the Issen continues, ‘there are quite a few nicknames used for you around the city. Perhaps I will share them with you sometime.’
‘You and I speaking civilly?’ Kyor scoffs. ‘I won’t hold my breath.’
‘Pity,’ Stefan mutters. ‘I was rather hoping you would.’
I glare at both men, the look intensifying for Kyor. Even after losing the throne, Stefan volunteered to help me train. He doesn’t deserve to deal with Kyor’s ridiculous paranoia.
‘Come on,’ I say, taking the prince’s arm and heading into the temple.
The instant I step inside, my irritation flows away, and a surprising sense of peace washes over me. It’s the same feeling I had in Galreck when I wandered into a temple there.
I was meant to be here. Meant to speak with Oel.
I move with whole-body ease as lightness floods through me. Considering how tense I felt just a minute ago, the sensation is more than a little surprising.
‘I’m going up there,’ I murmur to Kyor, gesturing towards the altar.
‘I’ll wait back here for you,’ he says, glancing back to the archway as if he’s expecting an attack at any second.
My footsteps echo off the stone walls, and my heart drums hard as I kneel before the white stone altar and contemplate what to do next. For so long, every attempt to pray has been tangled in anger. In resentment. In confusion.
Even at the gifting, where I momentarily believed Etta had given me everything I needed, it wasn’t what I thought. She didn’t even tell me about William herself. She forced Jonas to do it. My belief in how much the Gods actually want to help us is definitely up for debate.
Which is why I’m surprised by how easily the words come pouring out of me now.
‘Something tells me you’re listening,’ I say quietly, envisioning that Oel is just out of sight, perhaps sitting on the floor on the other side of the temple.
‘Thank you. I don’t know what will come of all of this, whether I’m safe with Magnus and the others, but I’m grateful I’ve made it this far.
So … thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance and guiding me here.
’ I start to rise, then hesitate and drop back down.
‘And if you could make this training session not be a complete and utter clusterfuck, I’d be very grateful for that, too. ’
With one final dip of my head, I stand and turn back to Kyor.
‘Right,’ I say, drawing in a steady breath. ‘I guess it’s time to get this training underway.’
Stefan informs us that we’re heading to the south-west battle yard, and with that scant instruction, he strides off. We cross the city in near silence, accompanied only by the angry shouts that seem to follow me wherever I go.
A few people offer shy nods of recognition or tentative smiles, but others glare and spit as we pass.
Stefan ignores it all.
‘Show me some Issen magic you have control of,’ he orders once we finally arrive at the south-west battle yard.
‘That would be nothing,’ I admit, fighting the urge to lower my gaze and dig my feet into the snow. ‘It’s a little more … sporadic than that.’
‘So you have never managed anything by choice? By design rather than an inadvertent loss of control?’ He sounds horrified, like the concept of losing control is as bad as kissing a slobbering jotunn.
‘No. Not really.’
He shakes his head. ‘So yesterday, that display with the jotunn … that wasn’t to show off your prowess with weapons, but because you have no control over your magic?’
‘Display?’ The word prickles my skin slightly. Does he think Fen and I brought that thing down so that people would watch? ‘It wasn’t a display. I was simply stopping it from reaching the city.’
He shakes his head. It’s difficult to tell whether it’s regret or annoyance at me.
‘I did not mean to offend. I simply meant your choice to get so dangerously close. That is not how we Issen battle the jotnar. Not unless absolutely necessary.’
‘Well, it was necessary,’ I reply, trying to fight the irritation rising within me.