Chapter 8
T he scenery was beautiful, she could at least admit that without feeling like a traitor to Holiadon. But even in all its beauty, Credula possessed a certain heat and humidity that made her feel horribly overdressed. Being in such close quarters with Ilias didn’t help, either. He’d been silent since they left Silver Palace, only exchanging a few words about food just outside of the Credulan stronghold near the base of the mountain. The rest of the time, he didn’t speak. Didn’t so much as look in her direction.
Kaya had half the mind to feign an illness, pretend to faint and fall off of her horse to try and get a rise out of him. She didn’t do that, obviously, but it had crossed her mind.
She caught him talking to the guards, the warriors that frequented the grounds, the courtiers, and the servants. All of them received them well, but Kaya was frustrated. Between training with the Credulan guards and meeting with King Thepyra’s advisors, she had little time to herself. And when she did… she half expected to be able to share that time with the male she was living with—the one she now called her husband.
After the first week of complete silence and having seen him smiling at a female scribe in the library, Kaya felt so horribly ridiculous. Ridiculous to have thought that their indecencies went beyond duty and sacrifice. It hadn’t been a sacrifice to her, but that thought was just as heartbreaking as the latter.
She sighed, throwing her legs over the arm of the chaise she claimed from the moment she’d arrived. She let her arm fall to the side, placing her book face-down on the floor before she rose to her feet and stretched.
Ilias took to reading, as well. The nook he fashioned into his bedroom was littered with history books he brought with him from Holiadon, as well as some from the manor library. She would have been proud of him if reading hadn’t consumed him—if he’d spoken to her about his studies instead of outright ignoring her existence.
Absolutely ridiculous.
This childlike infatuation was so, so ridiculous and she had half the mind to march herself across the apartment, pull back his little curtain and demand—
“Kaya.”
She went still.
Gods, she hated it. Absolutely hated how her name sounded on his tongue, how he seemed to know exactly when to use it—exactly how to say it to make every hair on her body stand on end. She turned swiftly, giving him a small smile to portray that nothing was amiss. “Yes?”
“What are you brooding about in here?” There was a flicker of a smile as he walked across the room. He knelt by the pile of books beside the fireplace, running his fingers over their spines before plucking one from the center.
“I’m not brooding about anything. I’m just bored.”
“Bored, huh?” He hummed, cracking the book and skimming through pages before snapping it closed. “Want to help me with something?”
Oh, her poor, damned heart. If there was any question that she was alive, all anyone would need to do was place their hand to her chest now. Because it certainly was beating.
She cleared her throat, trying her best to shake away that feeling. But when Ilias rose to his feet and simply looked at her, she started to feel slightly faint. “What do you need help with?”
“This—” He shoved the book into her arms. “From what I have gathered of your collection here, it seems you have done some pretty extensive research on ancient Driikona. I need insight on something.”
Her mind whirred, gears already turning as they walked towards the small desk that was littered with Ilias’s notes and scribblings. “It depends on the subject. Most of the books were burned during the previous war. What Holiadon has now in terms of historical accounts… well, it is basically just notes from scribes who jotted down what they could remember from their lessons.” She took a seat in the chair, fingering through his notes. “What are you looking for?”
“Relics.” He huffed. “Specifically ones that were said to be blessed by Cadaith.”
She hummed, eyes scanning the foreign language he had transcribed his notes in. It was not helpful in the slightest. “The Elders might have more information on those.”
“Already checked—nothing.”
“The High Order, perhaps?” She tapped her chin. “They are said to hold the most ancient and sacred accounts known to our kind. They were chosen by Cadaith, herself, to maintain peace amongst Galore.”
Ilias scoffed. “As if they would give a halfblood the time of day.”
Kaya looked at him then, but as soon as she saw how close he was to her face, she quickly glanced away. Her cheeks heated to some degree at the feeling of his breath rolling across her skin and just that very action had her mind drifting to memories that were too painful to touch. “I’m afraid that none of these texts will be able to provide you the answers you seek. But I wouldn’t be so quick to believe that the High Order wouldn’t be willing to help. They are halfbloods, as well. In fact, they may be even more inclined to help you for that reason, alone.” She explained.
He straightened himself with a sigh, one hand coming up to scratch at his stubble. “I don’t understand why these high powers hoard historical accounts. Have they ever thought that the civilians they are trying to protect may need them?”
“They didn’t start protecting them until the war. History is a very powerful thing. Facts are very powerful. If they keep things secret or protect powerful information, it very well could be for the safety of the people of Galore.”
Ilias scrutinized her with narrowed eyes, a smirk forming on his face. “That has to be the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life.”
Her face fell, eyes going cold as she snatched a torn piece of parchment from the desk. She scrawled something onto the paper, folded it into a tiny square and extended it to him. “Hold this over a candle.” She ordered. He eyed her for a moment, brow furrowing as he took the note from her hand. “ Do you know how many seconds it takes to erase history, Ilias?”
He paused, the note hovering just above the flame of the candle perched upon the desk.
“ Count .”
Ilias did as he was told. He lowered the note over the fire and watched, counting, as the paper caught fire. Within thirty seconds, all that remained was ashes—the message she had written on the parchment forever a mystery.
“Thirty seconds.” He whispered.
Kaya’s teeth sunk into her lower lip, eyes going soft as he continued to stare at the fire. “That’s why, sometimes, history needs to be protected. Because it can be gone that quickly. And then, all of the pain and suffering of those that came before us would be for nothing.”
He looked at her with awe, licking his lips as she rose from the chair and walk towards the door. “Where are you going?” He asked.
Kaya looked over her shoulder, giving him a small smile and a wink. “I’m craving some blackberry jam. Want to come?”
━?○?━?○?━
“I need your help with something.”
Kaya jolted upright, hand falling to the knife on her hip as she turned to see Ilias standing over her. “ I need you to stop sneaking up on me. You’re going to get one of us killed if you keep it up.”
Ilias snorted as he fell into the chair next to hers. “Hate to break it to you, princess, but you and that little pocket knife of yours won’t do much damage.”
“Who says it’s going to be the knife? My shadowy little friends are very protective of me. And one day, they might just—” He let out a grunt when she launched herself on top of him, landing directly in his lap. “Jump right out and grab you.”
Ilias wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush to his chest. “That’s the thing— I grab back.” He squeezed her tightly, smiling as she thrashed and giggled against his grip. His embrace grew tighter and she wheezed before sinking her teeth into his arm .
He let out a yelp, releasing her immediately and watched as she clambered to her feet. She huffed, red-faced and eyes narrowed. It was adorable, honestly. That she thought that look terrified him like it did everyone else. But to him, she just looked—
“So damn childish.” He chuckled, shaking his head as if the act could clear his muddled thoughts.
The ache that formed in her chest dug deep, rooting its way to her stomach. Her arms fell limp at her sides. “What do you need my help with?” She asked.
“I’m going out to the old castle. There is something I’m looking for. I want you to come with me.”
“Why?” She forced a laugh. “Need someone to hold the map for you? I don’t see how I’d be much help in… well, whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m just looking for something. I don’t really need your help, but I would like for you to come with me.”
She eyed him for a moment, brow scrunching as she reached over and grabbed her satchel off of the library table. “Well, let’s get going. I need to get away from all these elves, anyway. They’re far too serious and give me a headache.”
Ilias couldn’t argue with her on that. Ever since they arrived, the only people that were kind to either of them were what the Credulans liked to call Librites. In reality, Librites were simply people with any drop of fae blood. He didn’t know if it was worse to be called halfblood or Librite, but both were said with such distaste that it enraged him all the same.
“Did you know about this male named Dagan Delanis?” Kaya asked, fumbling through her satchel. “I worked up the nerve to ask my tutor why Credula needed the Dark Bringer. She told me that Credula has been back and forth with Dagan and his most loyal subjects for centuries now— centuries. I’d read about the Wastelands of Bal’g and Grandor before, but I had no idea he posed such a threat.”
The muscle in Ilias’s jaw twitched, teeth clamping together. “Yes, I knew.” He sighed, eyeing her as she retrieved a map. Dagan was one of the people the Silver Guard was ordered to keep a watch on. Ilias had spies everywhere in Bal’g. Because Dagan was just as much a threat to Holiadon as he was Credula. “ Funny, isn’t it? Power drives people to do the most unspeakable things. War after war, building kingdoms on blood-soaked lands, and they still want more. No matter how many lives are lost or how many are sacrificed for what they deem to be the greater good, they just keep fucking going.”
“All that reading you’ve been doing is getting to you, isn’t it?” She laughed.
He frowned, scratching at his jaw. It was a horrible habit, really. He originally used his facial hair as a means to deter people from engaging in conversation with him. He found that it made him look intimidating, but he’d developed the habit of rubbing at it the moment he began to feel uncomfortable. Exposed . “It makes you passionate about things.”
Kaya nodded, stepping over a hollowed-out log. “Stories are an art. History is an art. They’re supposed to make you feel something—invoke emotions that you never realized you had.” She gave him a smile as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind the point of her ear. “I love telling children stories, you know? They are always so eager to listen. And with my gift, I can immerse them in the knowledge that I have obtained over all my years of study—passing on truths in the form of fairy-tales. My only hope is that they carry those stories and their lessons with them through their lives.”
He didn’t know what to say. All that he could do was stare at her, at the beauty of her face that seemingly glowed under the light of the moon. It was hard for him to believe that he had only come to know this female three months prior. Because now, looking at her, a brief and terrifying thought flickered through his mind. The thought—the fear —of ever having to go another day without her.
He didn’t want to.
But Ilias still stifled the thought, hid it under a veil of his own inner darkness and tried to wear the mask of a male that did not care. Even though he did. He cared so much more than he ever expected—cared so deeply that he was willing to go to such great lengths to protect her. He’d followed her into gods-damned Credula just to ensure that not a single one of those greasy, golden-haired bastards laid a hand on her.
As his thoughts grew more pestering and his motivation heightened, they continued their trek to the remains of what was once the home to Queen Rydanthe. Just the outline of it was enough to send a chill down both their spines, locking them in place as they looked at the ruins of a palace that housed not one, but two of the greatest queens Galore had ever known. Rydanthe and her mother, Hyara, made it their mission to unite Galore. They were generous. They were fair. And now, all that was left of them was a crumbling structure that was being consumed by Cadaith’s green tresses.
Vines held stone and mortar in place, as if Cadaith, herself, was not quite ready to let go of the greatness that Credula once was. Of what it could have been.
As they moved into the grounds, Ilias began his search.
Kaya hovered by a pillar that supported nothing, her eyes scanning what she could only guess was once a throne room. She drew in a breath, placing her hand upon the quartz pillar at her side and closed her eyes for just one moment—hoping to feel something. Anything that could possibly ignite the feeling of security in her chest.
She felt nothing.
So she waited.
Ilias stormed through the palace grounds, turning over rock and stone, flipping tables, opening ransacked chests and wardrobes. But he found nothing. In the book he finally found that mentioned the Relics, it was said that the final piece to his puzzle rested in the heart of Driikona. And this—this palace—was what it lead him to. And there was nothing.
Absolutely. Nothing.
A growl of frustration surged through his chest, his eyes blazing as he stormed into the throne room. Kaya’s slumped form perked to life, her eyes wide as she watched him pick up a weathered statue and hurl it across the room.
This wasn’t like him.
Something was terribly wrong.
She pushed herself off of the pillar and ran towards him, shoving at his chest before he could pick up another large object.
“ Ilias !”
He stopped .
His anger, his frustration was gone—the moment she placed her hand upon his cheek, he felt it dissipate. It was a peace he was not quite ready to accept. But for her, for her fear, he stopped.
“Look at me.” She whispered. He couldn’t. Not like this. “Ilias, look at me. Please .”