Chapter Twenty-Three
THE PALACE GATES opened and a group of five riders entered at a lope. Not a carriage in sight.
A small gathering waited on the steps of the palace entrance, Fyar at the top, Killian at his side, and a smattering of other palace officials congregated behind him. Kade and Porthos and Hokda among them.
There were bruises under Kade’s eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping.
It had been nearly a week since Killian had taken Kade into the city.
They hadn’t spoken since. Kade hadn’t come to Killian’s room and Killian hadn’t gone looking for him in the infirmary.
They stayed on their respective sides of the palace and dove into their work. Avoiding each other and their problems.
Killian could apologize. He knew Kade would forgive him, but…he wouldn’t mean it. He wasn’t really sorry. What could he have done differently?
If Killian hadn’t stopped Kade, hadn’t shut down that line of conversation, where would they be now? Broken. Their relationship irreparable. There would be no going back from Kade’s rejection. Not ever.
There was no winning here. No right choice.
Killian held his breath when Kade looked up and their eyes met across the distance.
Kade’s expression pinched, and he turned away.
Killian winced.
Porthos was bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager and excited. The apprentice was perhaps the only one who was.
Fyar was collected and effortlessly calm, though Killian knew how the king dreaded this. He was doing his duty, greeting his esteemed and honored guests on the steps of the palace, as was tradition. Chin held high, the king stayed carefully still.
Prince Lyra Yvylr was grace and poise, even after a long week of riding from the western province of Surr and his remote forest estate right along the border to the human kingdom of Avaan. He wore shining golden robes that matched his hair and a dazzling smile.
Killian thought he looked like the sun. Like summer embodied. The opposite to Fyar’s icy winter.
The prince looked much like his brother, bright blue eyes and tanned skin. They could almost be twins.
Lyra bowed low after swinging off of his horse. “Your Majesty. It’s been too long.”
Fyar only said, “You’re early.”
“Only a couple days. It’s not often that I get to return to Ingara.
I have to take advantage.” Lyra bounded up the stairs, skipping steps until he stood in front of Fyar.
Killian tensed, he didn’t like them being so close.
But Lyra’s expression was soft. He smiled.
“It’s good to see you, cousin. Truly. You look well. ”
“Lies and flattery,” said Fyar. “You always thought kings of Netyere looked creepy. Like ghosts, you always said.”
Lyra laughed. “True. But you wear it well.”
“I’ll try to take that as a compliment.”
“You should. I meant it as one.”
The two stared at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. One not even Killian could understand. It took him by surprise, the open sadness on Lyra’s face.
Fyar said, “Your room is as you left it. Porthos will show you the way, in case you forgot.”
Surprise flashed across the prince’s face. “It is?”
“Of course.” Fyar turned away. “Go now. Rest. You must be tired after your journey.”
Lyra opened his mouth, but thought better of it. He bowed, and turned to greet his brother. They embraced, clapping each other on the back and crowing happily.
Kade stood next to them, awkwardly shuffling and wringing his hands until he was introduced along with Taiga.
Killian ground his teeth when Kade and the prince shook hands.
The air was all but crackling around Fyar. A wrongness about him that was rolling off him in waves.
Killian stepped close, Fyar’s back pressed to his shoulder. He spoke lowly into the king’s ear, so the dissipating crowd couldn’t hear. “Alright?”
It was the smallest thing, the shake of Fyar’s head.
“You’re too tense. You need to calm down. A good fuck or fight would do, and since I can only help with one of those, what do you say? Shall we have a go?”
Fyar met Killian’s eyes over his shoulder, and nodded.
“Out!” Killian yelled, his voice carrying. “Now!”
The training grounds cleared in record time at the sight of the king following on Killian’s heels.
“Swords or fists?” Killian asked once they were alone.
Fyar cracked his neck as he stripped out of the top layer of his robes, the long sleeves and train not ideal in a fight. “Swords.”
The clashing of steel on steel echoed as Fyar met Killian blow for blow. It was a dance, hard and heavy and quick. Neither holding back.
It was easy to forget, in all the luxury and pomp that was Fyar’s world, that he had been a soldier. That he had fought on the frontlines and commanded armies before Killian was even born, and it was evident that he hadn’t lost a bit of that strength.
They fought until they were both panting, sweat soaking their skin.
They fought until they had each taken blows, blood dripping from shallow cuts on their sides and arms and legs.
They fought until Fyar’s eyes were bright again, and he was smiling, the weight on his shoulders a little bit lighter.
“Want to talk about it?” Killian asked as they put up their swords. They looked out at the hedges along the labyrinth. They squirmed excitedly, as if they could feel Fyar was close.
Fyar bit his lip. “It was harder than I thought it’d be…seeing Lyra again. I’d hoped after all this time it would be easier.”
“It doesn’t work that way. The time and the distance. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t dull any of it, no matter how much you wish it might.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“I understand more than most.”
“Ah. Yes. Your brother. Our situations are more alike than I realized. Though yours seems to have a happier ending.”
Killian cringed. “Maybe not.”
Fyar wiped his brow. “I wish…” He trailed of, shaking his head. “I wish a lot of things. None of them possible.”
“What? Tell me.” It was so rare for Fyar to show his pain. If Killian could listen, or help, he wanted to. “What do you wish?”
It came out slowly, Fyar’s truth. “I wish things could be different. I wish my mother weren’t dead. I wish my father had been stronger. I wish I hadn’t had to do what I’d done. I wish Lyra weren’t so smart. I wish…I wish I had my family back and I wasn’t doing this alone.”
The weight of Netyere on Fyar’s shoulders must be unbearable.
Killian pressed closer. “I know it’s not the same, I can never replace them, but I’m here. Whatever you need or ask, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You have to say that.” Fyar tapped the exposed enil that peeked out from Killian’s sleeve.
“No, I don’t,” said Killian. “I can serve you, and still hate you. I only have to be loyal and obedient. That’s not what this is, and you know it. I’m not going anywhere, Fyar. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.”
Squinting at Fyar, Killian held up his wrists like he were in shackles, and shook them in Fyar’s face. “Really? How could I leave?”
Fyar shoved him. “Whatever.”
Killian paused. “Could you forgive him? After what he did? After what he tried to take from you?”
“He’s my family. He was my brother, and I love him, but I’ll never forgive him. I never blamed him, for his suspicions, for what he thought. How could I? If there roles were reversed, I’m sure I’d think the same and he’d have been on the top of my list. I’d just hoped he’d understand.”
“It’s a hard thing to ask anyone to come to terms with.”
“Lyra loved my father like I loved my father. He was a parent to us both, and when he died…Lyra changed. He wasn’t thinking of Netyere, our land, our people, his only thought was of his own grief. And then, he saw opportunity in it.” Fyar sneered. “Tell me, do you think he would make a good king?”
“No,” Killian said simply. Firm in his belief. “You should name a new heir. Just in case.”
“No. No, I won’t be doing that. I’ll do what I must. If it comes to a fight, I have no intention of losing.
Though I hope it doesn’t.” Fyar looked Killian dead in the eyes.
Killian was surprised to see the emotion in them.
“You’re lucky. You got your brother back. You got your family back. I’m jealous.”
Killian swallowed thickly. He didn’t know what to say to that. He’d been fucking up with Kade so much recently he’d forgotten how lucky he really was.
Inhaling deeply, Fyar bundled his robes in his arms. “Find Hokda, have him come to my quarters. I’ll take treatment there.”