Chapter 8
Kassiel
“Icannot.”
Gods those words gutted me to utter when she looked at me with such fervor.
And it made no sense.
She’s not the first to beg me to let them go and nor will she be the last—but there was something in the way she called to me.
In an attempt to clear my head, I left her under the care of two guards, some of my best men. They were loyal to Rune and me but equally afraid of Orlin. Which means they at least had their wits.
That fucker was always eager to bend someone’s sanity if he felt so inclined.
I’ve become defensive over the little warrior that resides in our grasp. In a sick perverse way I suppose.
I had wanted to be the one to see her death. To make sure it was quick and according to my plans.
Orlin couldn’t know my curiosity had been piqued or he’d insist on convincing King Euron to prolong her suffering, not because he hated her—no, but because he’s set on taking anything from me.
Envy blackens his heart and mind, twisting it into something so savage even Rune and I have made it a point to stay out of his way.
His jealousy seemed to come alive whenever he found me and King Euron in discussion. Even recently he’d begun to lash out at Rune until Euron put a stop to it. It was shocking when Euron had told Orlin to give us space, as if he could feel the building tension himself.
The king generally let Orlin do as he wanted because of one reason alone—he enjoyed watching people suffer, got off on it really. I had witnessed it more times than I cared to particularly with those taken to his menagerie.
And although King Euron had stepped in a few times, it was also apparent that he had found immense pleasure in watching the three of us play this game of cat and mouse.
Perhaps that’s why the king kept him close, letting his leash loose just enough that he could sink his teeth into anyone who dared walk by him.
King Euron enjoyed the discourse between his puppets.
He would rather us be pitted against each other than risk us forming bonds of our own.
It was a perfect plan, crafted by the very man who controls us.
These dark musings cease as soon as Orlin and Rune’s forms make their way through the barren orchard. I level my gaze to where they stand, basked in darkness from the poorly lit night sky.
They’re conversing from what I can tell based on the hand movements coming from Rune.
My eyes trail to the nearby doorway that I’d come out of earlier, the one protecting her from him.
The thought of Orlin using his gift on her unsettles me and an accompanying chill brushes along my spine.
I shouldn’t care about her fate or even if she becomes the newest victim of this cursed nightmarish magic. Gods know I’ve endured the plague of Orlin’s visceral nightmares, and though I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, I’ve come to understand it’s just part of my atonement.
The duty the gods have called on me is just a small price compared to the guilt I live with knowing I couldn’t change Eliorah’s fate. My naymeih. The one I was bound to.
Rune’s head snaps to me in midconversation and Orlin’s pale face turns to mine slowly, with that same snarky smile that I’ve come to learn means he’s planning something. His stringy hair falls in front of his face, concealing half of it while also making him look more shabby.
His teeth pull into a grin and I can’t help but want to pummel my fist into it.
Orlin finally looks away and saunters off through the trees, following the shadows as he walks in the direction of Astoria, surely to go binge on more wine and women with Rion.
They’re close companions, merely impressed by one another's vulgarity which usually ends in someone getting hurt.
Rune’s steps are quiet, the footfalls padding along the worn trail to where I now sit.
This outcropping of trees is nestled alongside rock that looks to be layered upon itself. The dark charcoal looking stone glints with druzy crystal that formed in it long before it erupted from the earth.
It’s flat, enough so to appear as if it’s an altar hidden by the quivering leaves.
When Rune is close enough I can see the buttons on his overcoat, I lay down on the hard stone and shift my eyes to the sky and focus on the two moons cradled together.
At least in this ghastly realm where there is no kindness, they find comfort in one another.
Rune clears his throat and begins, “Orlin is growing suspicious as to why you’ve camped out near her.”
I simply growl in return.
“He doesn’t understand why you didn’t let him crack her mind the first time when she and her companion charged into the storehouse.”
Why didn’t I? It would have been easy, but something about that opalescent light that exploded from her shook me in ways I hadn’t imagined.
“Doesn’t he ever tire from harming people?” I grumble the words.
We both know the answer and yet Rune still replies, “A deranged man as he will never stop until he’s put down like the dog he is, you know this.”
Silence grows between us until soft howls in the distance begin to carry over the nearby mountain.
Rune shifts on his feet and I watch his hand instinctively move for his sword.
“Easy man,” I begin with a chuckle, “I know you’re scared of the dark but it’s merely the timberwolves. There is nothing to fear in these woods except for us.”
He still keeps his hand on his hilt as if prepared to draw his sword in a moment's notice.
“That’s easy for you to say Kassiel,” his wide eyes scour the surroundings that are layered in shadow, “I didn’t grow up in the woodlands like you and your fecking spirits.”
I bark out a laugh because he’s right. I’ve been accustomed to the phantoms and darkness that lingers this far north whereas he’s from the southern region, where the sandgrasses are large enough to get lost in.
The lilt in his words remind me for a moment that we’re very different, but yet one of the same coin. We both are merely here as the result of our magic. Stored away as collectables for King Euron.
A heavy sigh escapes me and I raise my arms and place them under my head. It’s easy to think back on what once was when we’re given these brief moments of freedom, if you could call it that.
Another howl crests the side of the mountain, closer now.
“Feck this, I’m going back to the guardpost,” Rune whispers loudly.
My lips quirk in the corner, resulting in a half smile.
“Run along you coward,” I say as I close my eyes, ready to doze off.
He’s already shuffling down the trail by the time I finish the statement, the swish of his leathers his only goodbye.
Memories dance across my eyelids as I listen to the song of the woods, the grasses swaying in tune with hushed sounds from nocturnal critters.
A muted face and intimate embraces are the first to surface as I begin to fall into slumber. Eiliorah's face. I would know it anywhere, even though time has slowly eroded the details.
I can’t place the sharp curve of her nose, the subtle pout of her lips, or even the rose hue her cheeks would turn when we were wrapped in each other's arms, tangled in lust. The feeling of loss isn’t the same as when I lost her, this is worse.
Because even now the memory of her is fading.
My chest clenches as the prospect of her being lost completely to me, momentarily disturbing my sleep.
“Come find me, Kassiel…”
The playful tone of this memory crashes over me and I’m swept back into my deep rest.
She’s running from me in our game of chase. I watch her dart behind a tree, her skin a pale beacon in the moons' light.
My lips peel back so much so it hurts my cheeks from my beaming smile. I should have known she would have stripped down and ran naked through the woods like the little migaia she is.
“Little witch, if I find you, I’ll get you on your back and show you how I really worship.” The velvet from my words caused her to shriek with laughter.
I stalk towards the tree I saw her duck behind, quietly—almost silently. If she wants to play this, I would willingly oblige.
Peering my head around the thick base of the tree, I’m shocked to discover she isn’t there.
A murmur escapes my lips and it dawns on me, she’s using her magic. Her illusion.
“What a cunning migaia you are, Eliorah.”
Another spew of laughter rebounds from the forested clearing.
“Kassiel, did you expect me to play fair?” The way she says my name has my cock throbbing. My need for her, to be in her, grows with each passing moment.
“Now, migaia,” I growl, “if I catch you, I will fuck you until even the moons hide from your screams of pleasure.”
Warm hands cover my eyes, slipping over them softly. A heady breath puffs in my ear as her delicate fingers thread in my hair.
“Is that a promise,” she whispers, pausing to suck on my ear, “I’ve heard that you are a generous lover.”
My skin pebbles and my heady arousal builds, my dick pressed stiffly against my pants.
I grab her wrists and force her to face me, pulling her to my body.
She looks ravishing. Her wild tumble of hair strewn across her shoulders, draping across her breasts as their only covering. I slowly bring my gaze to her, the thought of her bosom in my mouth enough to be my eternal salvation.
“Eliorah,” I begin, “if you would only let me show you how much I yearn to have you shatter in my arms again and again…”
I crush my lips to hers and she eagerly opens her mouth to my tongue.
Releasing her face, I pull back and witness a bright blush cover her cheeks, her freckles more pronounced in this light.
They’re beautiful, I’ve counted and etched them into my mind enough times to know they resemble Uridesecy, the constellation of stars that make up the icon of the goddess.
I swipe my finger over the marks, as if she’s been blessed herself by the goddess. I kiss her again, fervently, passionately before pulling back again and getting lost in her ocean eyes.
The cerulean blue with gray flecks dance between mine and I slowly release her. They’ve changed. The once muddy image of her sharpens with clarity. I step backwards once, looking at her full form and an uncanny feeling causes my world to tilt.
My body thrashes against the stone as if I’ve fallen from my dream and my heavy lids open. The memory lingers, fading much quicker than before. I close my eyes as if I can hold on to the image that was so clear to me just moments ago.
Instead, all I can picture is her.
The little warrior that sits in the dungeon mere paces away.
Alora.
Audibly, I roll off the stone and ask, “What in the goddess’ name?”
I run my fingers through my hair and pull the loosened strands back into the tie at the base of my neck, keeping the locks from my face.
I glare at the moons, suddenly melancholic over the ruined memory.
There will be no rest tonight.