Chapter Thirty-Nine
“IT’S TREASON TO raise your sword to your king,” said Fyar. Deathly calm.
“I know,” Killian gritted out. “Stand up, Kade. Stand up!”
There was a rustle of fabric and grass behind him as Kade did as he was told.
Fyar said, “Another betrayal.”
“No,” Killian disagreed. “This isn’t a betrayal.”
Fyar eyed him in disbelief. “How do you figure?”
“My hand is forced.”
Fyar licked his lips. “I can’t say I’m surprised. For what is a friend—a king—compared to a lover?”
The breath was punched from Killian’s chest. He grimaced. He didn’t want an answer. He didn’t want to know. “How long have you known?”
“About your little affair? Since before it began. I saw it’s beginnings miles away. You forget, Killian, that I know you as well as you know me. Or I thought I did.”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of your reaction. Of losing you.”
Fyar’s eyes tightened. “You lost me anyway.”
Killian clenched his jaw. “I know.”
Kade took Killian’s hand, squeezing tight to show he was there. He was still there. Killian still had him. Killian held on for dear life.
“You never said anything,” said Killian. Wondering.
“What was there to say? Would you have stopped it, if I’d asked?
No? Exactly. It wouldn’t have changed anything.
Your feelings. His feelings. My feelings.
None of it mattered. Until it did.” Fyar’s eyes flickered to Kade, peeking out of Killian’s shoulder.
Oh, he glared at Kade, eyes blazing in unbridled hatred.
“I never cared who you fucked, Killian, no matter how…controversial your relationship. I cared that you lied to me about it.”
“Secrets,” Killian said, bitterly. “So many fucking secrets.”
Moving slowly, like he had all the time in the world, Fyar yanked the other half of the twin swords out of Lyra’s chest and twirled the blade in his hands.
Killian took a deep breath. He’d expected nothing less.
Turning his head just enough to speak over his shoulder, Killian urged Kade to run. “You need to go. Now. Go through the city. Steal a horse as soon as you can. The border to Avaan is a four day ride north—you can make it in two if you push your horse. Don’t stop. Not for anything. Not for anyone.”
Kade was horrified. “I won’t leave you.”
“You’ll die if you stay.”
“And you’ll die if I go.”
“A small price to pay for your freedom.”
Shaking his head, Kade remained stubborn.
“Dammit, Kade!” Killian was desperate. “Can’t you just listen to me for once in your fucking life?”
“No,” Kade said simply. “I’d rather die here with you. I won’t leave. You can’t make me!”
“How touching,” drawled Fyar. His voice dripping venom. “How romantic. Lucky for you, I can make that happen. I’ll make it quick. I promise.”
Killian knew Fyar was good for his word. So he threw Kade away from him, pushing him towards the edge of the clearing. “Go! Damn you! Go!”
Kade stumbled, tripping on his feet, but seeing Killian’s face he finally understood. He backed away slowly, to the edge of the fog, but hovered, watching.
But Killian couldn’t worry about that now.
For a moment, neither Fyar nor Killian moved. They stood across from each other, both worn and weary, both injured. Both reluctant.
Neither wanted this, but what other choice was there?
It was hard to say who moved first. They met in the middle.
How many times had they sparred? How many hours had they spent on the sands grappling and fighting, with bare fists and swords?
They knew each other’s habits and styles and tricks.
But over all those years, Fyar hadn’t used his magic—he hadn’t needed to. It was simple fun. So now, Killian could read him, understand him, predict him, but his hits were harder to take, harder to block, harder to weather against.
Killian yelled again for Kade to go, but he couldn’t spare a moments distraction to see if he’d listened.
Killian didn’t have much time left.
It was over the moment Fyar disarmed him, the moment he sent Killian’s sword clattering out of reach.
A scream echoed through the clearing as Fyar’s arm pulled back, sword raised high.
Killian closed his eyes.
Accepting.
This was it.
The bite of steel never came.
Killian opened his eyes.
Fyar’s hand was dropping slowly to his side. His lip curled. He said, “You bastard. You goddamn fucking —” He stopped. He looked away. It was so rare that Fyar was at a loss for words. His jaw worked. His voice came out quiet. “I’ve already killed one brother today, I’d rather not kill another.”
Killian was brought to his knees by the wildfire of pain that flashed across his body. Searing over every inch of his skin. He couldn’t breathe. He was choking. Burning.
It felt like he was dying. He wanted to die to escape the pain.
And then…nothing.
It was gone.
Gulping down air, Killian blinked himself back to reality. The king stared down at him, expression open, showing Killian all the pain and the anger and the grief that Fyar was feeling.
Fyar said, “It’s polite to say thank you when you are given a gift.”
“A gift?”
Fyar only blinked at him.
The realization came slowly, and then Killian was clawing at the sleeves of his uniform. Yanking them up to expose skin.
Bare, unmarked skin, save for one simple band around his left wrist and the feel of it still on his tongue.
The enil that he had worn for a century was gone.
“What?” Killian rasped. His brain lagging. “Why?”
“I can’t have you speaking of what happened here,” said Fyar. “This will take care of that. Kade del Torau,” Kade flinched when he was addressed, “You will take a vow?”
Kade stuttered out, “I-I will.”
Fyar weaved the words carefully, making an ironclad vow that neither Kade could ever break. The same black band of enil was seared onto Kade’s tongue, and it was done.
“Now get out of my kingdom,” Fyar commanded. “Never come back.”
Kade let out a sigh of relief, but Killian ached.
“Why?”
Fyar glowered at him. “Fuck you, Killian. Why? Why? What do you mean why? I see no other way forward. I can’t kill you—fuck me, I can’t kill you.
But you can’t stay here. So you have to go.
Go settle in some tiny village where you’re nothing and no one.
Never step foot in my kingdom again. Ever. I never want to see you again.”
“I—” Killian didn’t know what to say. The thought of never seeing Fyar again…
Killian’s eyes burned.
Fyar grimaced, his nose scrunching and his lip curling against his pain. “Now go, before I change my mind.”
Each step a stab to the heart, Killian collected his twin swords and limped towards Kade. He held out his hand and helped his love to his feet.
Together, they took a step towards the palace gates, towards freedom and a new life.
Killian stopped and turned back, helpless to do anything else. “And you? What will become of you?”
Fyar was silent a moment. “I am no longer your concern.”
“You’ll always be my concern,” said Killian. Then, “If you ever need me, I will come. No question.”
Fyar’s face twisted, and he turned away. When he spoke, his voice shook. Thick with emotion. “You are not mine to need anymore.”
Killian tried for a smile, but it broke. “Thank you, my friend. For everything.”
One last time black eyes met white. A king and his shadow.
“Go,” said the king.
And the shadow obeyed.