Chapter Thirty-Eight
WATCHING FYAR FIGHT was an otherworldly experience.
He moved like water through mastered stances as easy as breathing, the sword becoming an extension of his body rather than a simple weapon he wielded.
He was conjuring so much magic, calling so much en to his side, that even Killian’s weak eyes could see how it bunched and curled, filling the entire clearing, surrounding Fyar like a physical shield.
Having been on the other end of Fyar’s sword before, Killian knew Fyar’s power, the strength of his blows and the precision of his swings were no joke. The king was a fighter with no equal, but if anyone were his second, it would be Lyra.
Lyra had taken the place of his injured guard, the first one Fyar had gone after.
He’d escaped with his life but would be lucky if he ever used his right hand again—if he survived.
Fyar’s attack, aimed at the hand that held the sword, severing the appendage at the wrist. It would’ve been enough to deter a weaker fighter, but Lyra had brought his best—his strongest and most experienced.
The elf simply took the sword in his other hand and fell back, letting Lyra and the others take point while still offering assistance, eager for a chance at revenge.
Lyra and his men moved like one, circling their prey like a pack of wolves, maws drooling and snapping in anticipation. They moved in formation, a smooth and practiced sequence. Hard to guard against and harder to break through.
Battle hardened and tough, Lyra’s soldiers were masters of their magic as well. Used to wielding it to aid them against their enemies. The only reason Fyar didn’t crumble was because of who he was, if it were anyone else they would have been long dead.
Smartly, Fyar kept Lyra at his front, never letting the golden-haired elf see his back.
It was a crack of thunder when their blades met, both strengthened and backed by an abundance of magic most only dreamed of witnessing.
A flash of lightning as the steel sparked, getting lost in the waves of gold that flowed like the ocean around them.
But absent four arms and four swords, not even Fyar could block every attack. While his attention was kept, the elves in the king’s periphery drew blood. Like dogs nipping at his heels, they waited for chinks in his armor, moments where he was left open and they attacked with a vengeance.
What Lyra seemed to have forgotten was that he wasn’t the only one who had fought on the front lines in war, and he wasn’t the only one who had commanded armies. Fyar was holding his own, even as his white robes began to stain crimson. But he couldn’t hold on forever.
Killian ground his teeth, seething. He couldn’t keep standing around doing nothing as his king fought for his life just a few paces away. There was no time to waste, every moment he wasted was another that Fyar had to fight on alone.
Tearing his eyes away, Killian turned his full attention to Kade.
Sensing the shift in him, the elf called Chrys stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t do anything stupid, mutt. You’re not the one who’ll pay for it.”
Killian ignored him, his focus solely on Kade. Trying to convey across the distance some semblance of the plan he was concocting.
They held each other’s eyes for a long moment, amber and onyx.
Kade’s breathing became faster, his bottom lip trembled. Killian took that as him understanding.
Raising his hands, Killian tilted his head, signaling peace.
Surrender. He took a step forward. “What’s your plan after all this?
You kill me, kill the king, and then what?
March into the palace and claim it for your own?
That easily?” Another step. He could almost reach his sword now.
“See, I don’t think it is. I think if you were going to kill me, you’d have done it already. ”
“Shut up.”
“I think,” Killian went on inching forward, “You need me alive. You need someone to testify before the council, before the court, and who better than the sword themself? They would never believe Lyra on his own—not with his history.”
Killian’s eyes flickered to Kade’s. Soon. Soon.
Chrys sneered at the jab towards his master. The knife at Kade’s throat slid a few inches, and blood pooled in the wound instantly. “Shut up! I’ll do it. Don’t think I won’t.”
“No, you won’t,” Killian said. “You can’t. Who’s the dog now?”
Chrys barked tired threats. His face went red with anger as he rose to the bait Killian dangled in front of him.
Ignoring him, Killian looked at Kade. He blinked. One. Two. Three. When his eyes came open the third time, Kade moved. Throwing himself against his captor, Kade smashed in Chrys’ nose with a sickening crunch.
It wasn’t enough to break his hold, but it was enough of a distraction for Killian to act.
He ripped his sword from the earth and was on Chrys in a flash.
He didn’t get to rip out Chrys’ throat with his teeth, unfortunately, but Killian was happy with how his sword had made it three quarters of the way through the other’s neck before getting getting stuck in his spine.
Making quick work of the rope, Killian pressed the dagger that was once pressed against Kade’s neck into his newly freed hands.
“If they come for you,” said Killian, “Don’t hesitate.”
Kade nodded, shaken but determined. “Make sure you come back to me.”
Killian grinned. “Always.”
Then, he turned and joined Fyar in the fray.
Fyar had managed to take down one by the time Killian joined in, but he’d taken more damage that Killian was comfortable with.
Two against three was much fairer a fight than four against one.
Lyra gave a shout of rage when he saw Killian. His plan beginning to unravel.
Fyar barely spared Killian a glance before changing tactics. Killian read his intentions easily, moving to take on Lyra’s soldiers as Fyar went for the prince himself.
They pushed harder than ever, each blow felt like ten. Lyra’s soldiers could wield their en in ways that Killian couldn’t, and they wielded it well. Ruthless and heavy.
In that sense, Killian was at a disadvantage, but he didn’t need magic to beat two of Lyra’s traitors. His heart beat thundered in his chest, blood soaring through his veins. He felt alive with the challenge. With the danger.
There were only two outcomes to this night, fight and win or fight and die.
It was a rush.
Leaning into his anger, Killian barely felt it when a sword caught him in the side, avoiding being stuck through by the smallest margin. He used that chance to swing his sword as hard as he could. That close, his blade cut through flesh like butter, bringing down another.
Two were left.
Both halves of the twin blades found their mark as one: Killian’s tore across the side of his opponent as Fyar’s found home embedded in Lyra’s chest.
Lyra grunted, surprise flashing across his face. His sword clattered to the ground. He gripped Fyar’s arms as he went down. Fyar went with him, holding him all the while.
It was just days before, Killian had watched a scene very much like this one. Only it was a different golden hair elf that lay dying while family held them one last time.
Porthos and Lyra. Lyra and Fyar.
“I never could best you,” Lyra said letting out a wet laugh, marred by the pain. He took shallow and gasping breaths. Trembling, he touched his bloody fingers to Fyar’s cheek. “I won’t apologize.”
“I’d be disappointed if you did.” Fyar blinked down at his cousin. “I never wanted this. I never wanted to kill you, Lyra, that’s why I sent you away.”
“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could I?”
“It was never your way.”
Lyra was blinking fast, like it was getting harder and harder for him to focus. To summon the strength to talk. “It’s better this way. Take care of her…our Netyere.”
“I will,” Fyar promised, bringing their foreheads together.
Seemingly satisfied, Lyra let go. He let himself fade. “You and me, cousin?”
“You and me. To the end.”
Lyra smiled.
Fyar didn’t cry. He was the king, it wasn’t safe for him to cry here, even after all that had happened. He simply sat with Lyra, holding him.
Kade, standing where Killian had left him, had tears streaming down his cheeks.
Killian had only seen Fyar rage once, just after they had successfully carried out a plan ten years in the making.
Killian’s sword had still been dripping blood and Numar’s body was staring unseeing up at the ceiling.
Fyar had collapsed, crumbling in on himself as he sat in crazed disbelief at what they had just done.
Killian had stood dutifully by, looking over his new king, guarding his back. He’d been there, so it was safe for Fyar to be weak.
Not here. Not now.
Things were different this time.
Picking up Lyra’s abandoned sword, Fyar pushed to his feet. He stood with his back to them, closed his eyes, and turned his face towards the stars.
No one moved for a long time.
Then, the stillness broke.
If Killian had been a step further away—if he’d been a second slower—Kade would be dead. The sword, launched from Fyar’s hands like a spear, would’ve found its target in Kade’s heart.
“What are you doing?” Killain was outraged.
Kade plastered himself to Killian’s back, holding tight to his arm.
“What?” Fyar asked dryly. “You heard them. There is another traitor in our midst. Your darling Kade was in on it. Delivering the poison directly to Porthos’ hands. You can’t expect me to let that go.”
“No.” Kade’s voice was small. “No. It’s not like that. I didn’t—I would never—Killi, please. I can explain.”
Killian didn’t turn around. He bit out, “Kade, be quiet.”
The truth didn’t matter in this moment.
“I didn’t know,” cried Kade, ignoring him. “I didn’t know it was poison. He— Porthos found out you’d been taking me into the king’s garden—”
Fyar let out an exasperated sigh.
“Shut up, Kade!”
Kade barreled on. “I thought he would tell someone so we made a deal. He would take a vow of secrecy in exchange for a flower. I didn’t know it was poison! Please—”
Killian exploded. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I should’ve. I should’ve, but…”
The darkness stretched.
Fyar looked on. Unmoved.
Killian asked, “When did you figure it out? That I really was the breech?”
“The night I was poisoned. Obviously,” answered Fyar. “When did you?”
“The hunt. You and me and Hokda were talking. You said something to him and it just…clicked.” Killian laughed harshly. Behind him, Kade’s breath stuttered. “Suddenly, I knew. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before that.”
“Trust is a dangerous thing. It makes us blind. You trusted your brother not to betray you, not to deceive you. And you were wrong for it. A valuable lesson. One I am also learning. Again.”
Killian swallowed. “I didn’t betray you. I didn’t break your trust.”
“Not intentionally. They used my trust in you to get to me, and it worked.” Fyar seemed most angry about that. “I almost died for it.”
Killian flinched, the words landing like a physical blow.
“Nothing to say to that?” asked Fyar.
“What’s there to say? You’re right.” Killian clenched his fists. “No matter how sorry I am, how much I regret my part in this, it doesn’t change what happened. So. Where do we go from here?”
“There’s nowhere to go. There’s only one price for treason.”
Death. “I won’t let that happen.”
“You can’t stop it.” Fyar’s hand twitched towards the sword still embedded in Lyra’s corpse. “You alone are no match for me.”
“No,” Kade gasped. Horror flooding his voice. “No.” He pushed Killian aside, making it one step towards Fyar before Killian was pulling him back. “It was my fault. Only mine.”
“At least he’s self aware,” Fyar said snidely.
“I will take any punishment you see fit—”
“Kade, no!”
“Please. Leave Killi be. He had no part in it.” Kade slowly got to his knees, begging.
It was a horrible sight to see. “Killi has always been loyal to you. Always. I hated you for it, but I never wanted you dead. Do what you will with me, but keep him as your captain, as your friend. Let him live. I beg you.”
Fyar tilted his head, conflicted. “If you think he would ever forgive me if I touched a hair on your head, you’re stupider than I ever thought.” He let out a breathy laugh. “I should just kill you both and be done with it. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.
“But perhaps I’m stupid as well. A sentimental fool. I’d take your deal, Kade del Torau, if I thought he would agree. I find myself hoping he might. Killian keeps his title and position and my friendship in exchange for your life.” Fyar turned to Killian. “What say you, Captain?”
There was no choice to make.
Killian knew that.
Fyar knew that.
Killian stepped in front of Kade and raised his sword.