Chapter 52
Ashley
her battle cry so far from her first,
she claimed and reworked the land.
Training without Nyk for the last three weeks has been weird.
Kaed seems to get pissier by the day. Usually, he’s hard on me, but if I hear him say ‘again’ one more time, I’m going to black flame him.
I’ve ducked and dived, stabbed and swiped all whilst blasting little heatwaves from my hands, allowing puffs of tingling smoke to come out when I needed them.
Kaed, of course, wafted away the ones that actually made it to him, like I was just an annoying Pyreling.
But I did manage to singe his eyebrow once.
I left a deep slice in the middle of it that I looked at with such awe and admiration.
He covered my face in smelly smoke until I apologised.
He reported Theron’s claims to the King.
The rambling, half-mad ideas, and the insistence that the Cursewater hadn’t been given to them.
The King assured us that Nyk was correct and that he’d take it to his advisors, along with my request to go to Cinder Cliffs.
He didn’t look happy about that one. At all.
I told Kaed I wanted to be involved in every meeting from now on, and I’d asked the library for a few basic books, basic being a very generous term, it turns out.
One morning, Aiden watched with raised eyebrows as I chased a particularly skittish volume titled Theories of the Saviour Princess down the corridor.
It escaped by flinging itself open and sliding under the door of a locked broom cupboard.
Later that day, he appeared outside my bungalow with his own copy, along with another ten books he thought I should read.
He then spent a solid fifteen minutes explaining, in great detail, how deeply unhappy he would be if I lost or destroyed one of them.
One evening when we were training late, Rhory handed me a plate of creamy pasta and vegetables while I caught my breath on one of the grassy patches by the sparring ring.
“Your tea worked,” I said, loading up my fork with burgundy broccoli.
“Kaed all but threw it at Amedeo, poor thing. But I saw him last night, he’s basically healed. ”
Kaed scoffed as he unbuckled his armor, throwing it down with a too loud thud. “Do not become familiar with the creature.”
Rhory smirked, settling down beside me. “Things to hide, Captain?” He flopped onto his back, stretching out on the grass. Kaed grumbled under his breath, gathering his weapons. “Pies to make, Cook?”
“We’re having tarts today. Do you like tarts?” Rhory grinned, eyes still on the seas as he basked in the breeze. Kaed muttered something under his breath and barked an order toward a group of trembling Volker trainees, waving them into the sparring ring.
“Anka wasn’t thrilled by the request for the remaining tea ingredients, took some…
convincing.” He smiled at me, flashing his pretty teeth.
I giggled, but I can’t believe everyone’s having sex apart from me.
Rhory propped himself up on his elbows, navy eyes locking onto mine.
“You have such a beautiful heart. No one else would help that little bugger.” I blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.
Compliments always make me feel awkward.
I never know what to do with them. “You have a good heart, too, Cookie.”
“Cookie? Are you crazy? Gods no!” He practically shrieked. The crack in his voice and horror on his face sent me into a fit of laughter. Across the courtyard, I swear the sounds coming from the sparring ring intensified, blades clashing harder, shouts growing sharper.
This morning, like every other, the compound bustles with Volker making their way to the mess hall.
Habit pulls me instinctively toward the training pit, to the stack of wooden swords lined up at its edge.
Before my fingers curl around my usual one, a sharp whistle draws my attention.
From across the ring, Kaed tilts his head toward Eira’s workshop and turns on his heel.
Her usually tired, brown eyes are a little brighter today. She barely looks up as we enter, but when she does, she throws Kaed a grin. “Thanks for last night, Captain.”
Kaed winks and my stomach drops. What the fuck happened last night?
Sensing my confusion, Eira quickly clarifies.
“He let me spend the night with Nyk.” Ah.
My cheeks heat slightly and when I see Kaed’s dimples from the corner of my eye, my belly does the twisty thing.
Well, if that didn’t show me, and both of them, how I feel about him, then what will?
“It’s finished,” Eira says, unwrapping the most beautiful sword I have ever seen from a cloth.
It’s like something out of a story book.
A polished silver blade with pink etchings swirling along it, like vines.
The hilt is shaped like a butterfly, its wings forming the guard, full of tiny pink gemstones.
“It’s too pretty to be a weapon.” I gasp.
“Like a certain Princess I know.” Kaed hands it to me.
“For me?” I stare at them in disbelief.
“Yes, savior of the world, for you,” Eira laughs.
It’s much heavier than the wooden one and will take some getting used to, but I can’t wait to try it out, an actual blade.
Eira smirks. “Your betrothed spent a couple of weeks making it.” She fails to hide her amusement.
“He’s so specific, it’s kind of annoying.
Sorry, Captain.” Kaed raises his eyebrows as if the very idea of him being annoying is absurd. It isn’t. He is annoying. Cute, though.
“Anyway,” she waves a hand toward the forge. “He insisted on setting the stones in the hilt himself, the old-fashioned way. I corrected some parts, but...well, do you love it?”
“I do!” I quickly add, “I really do. It’s incredible, so beautiful. Thank you both.”
Kaed walks straight out of the hut. Eira snorts. “And then he does that.” My heart sinks, watching him disappear into the training ring. “He’s taking this whole thing with Nyk quite badly.”
“Yeah, but he put a lot of effort into your sword. I think it distracted him for a little while.” She drags a damp cloth across a surface.
“It really is gorgeous,” I say, admiring the beautiful piece of murder art in my hand.
She nudges me toward the door. “Now, go and fuck him up with it.”
“Wonderful idea. See you at lunch.” I blow her a kiss.
I whirl the sword around my head the way I’ve seen Nyk do, nearly clipping a soldier in the process.
My cheeks flush hot as I blurt an apology, then grip the hilt properly, biting back a grin I can’t quite hide.
This is so personal, and there’s nothing I love more than feeling known.
Kaed once used his hands to break me, and now, just like he promised, he uses them to heal me.
From the smoke butterflies, black as night, that slip under my bungalow door each morning and settle on my nose or shoulder, to the way he lifts me when I’m injured, cleaning my scrapes and wiping my tears.
Even the way he piles food onto my plate, like he’s making sure I never go without again.
I can’t help but smile when I see him. Arms crossed, his golden gaze sweeps over me before settling on my face.
Amedeo isn’t broken. My soul burns for the Captain.
And my body. He told me to be honest with myself, and the way I feel about Kaed is included.
“Hold it properly.”
His voice brushes against my ears and my body stands at attention.
I hate when he does that, projects his voice like he’s right there next to me—no, I love when he does that.
I just hate what it does to me when I’m trying to focus.
I hold the sword in both hands like I’m presenting it back to him. “How’s this, oh wise instructor?”
He chuckles, a tiny one, but still more than I’ve heard in weeks. Then, he crouches down slightly, meeting my gaze with an intensity that makes me forget what I was going to say. “You don’t know how to handle a sword, pretty girl?”
My cheeks heat. “You know I do.” I adjust my grip.
“Mmm, could use a little work. I’ll teach you.” His voice is rough and teasing. “Let’s see how you handle this.”
He draws his weapon. His sword bent into a perfect arc, split at the end like a serpent’s tongue. I barely have time to adjust my feet before he strikes. The force of the impact rattles through my arms. My fingers tighten around the hilt and my legs brace against the dirt when I skid backwards.
“What the hell? I don’t know how to use this yet.”
He gives me no time to recover before another strike comes, even harder. I barely get my sword up in time, the impact sends a jolt up my arms. “Kaed! That’s too hard!” I grit my teeth, retreating another step.
“Do you think whoever it is that wants you dead will hit you softly?” He swings again. “Do you think that if the Chasm opens, the Mer Army will wait for you to hold your sword properly?” And again. And again.
My arms burn. I am quick, but he is a beast. His movements are fluid, like water flowing down a stream. He isn’t even trying and still, he’s overwhelming me. “Wait, just—wait!”
“There will be no waiting.” Another strike. Heavier this time. Dust kicks up beneath my feet.
He’s taking his shit out on me, and now I’m pissed.
“Stop!”
A sharp heat ignites at the top of my head, spreading down my neck like fire.
The air around me pulses, thick with electricity.
No. Magic. I swing my sword as hard as I can and the moment our weapons clash, a shockwave bursts between us.
White hot. Behind my eyes, an image flickers, so vivid it’s as if I’m there.
Younger Kaed, shoulder-length hair damp with sweat, moving in sync with a younger Nyk.
They’re fighting someone. Is that Amedeo?
Half of Nyk’s face is shredded, crimson pours down his chest. Kaed desperately tries to bind Amedeo with his smoke, but the tendrils writhe in his grip as if they have a life of their own.
The image shatters and there’s barely time to catch my breath before our swords clash again.
Another surge of energy jolts through me.
Young Kaed again. Sitting cross-legged in front of two graves, hands caked in dirt and fingers bleeding, as if he’d been clawing at the earth in his grief.
His hazel eyes are dull and empty, and the tattoos on his cheeks raw, edged with pink.
The names on the graves disappear before I can read them, but somehow I know they’re his parents.
I swing at him, desperate to push this thing out of my head, but another image crashes into me like a Tsunami.
This time it’s my old bedroom in the palace.
The dimming Core filters through the window.
And there, on his knees, is Kaed, much older now.
A woman sits on the edge of the bed, her fingers tangled in his long, dark hair, pulling him closer.
His head is buried between her thighs, pulling soft, breathy moans from her while she clutches at him.
Long nails dig into his neck, blood trickling into his collar, but he doesn’t seem to notice as his fingers press into her hips, completely lost in her.
My stomach drops as the woman tilts her head back in ecstasy, red curls cascading down her bare back.
The vision rips away, and I stagger back, dropping my sword on the floor.
“Pick it up,” Kaed demands. His chest heaving. “Pick it up, Ashley.”
Panting, I clutch my ribs. “You and Aidens mother?”
His jaw flexes, just slightly. So, it’s true. I stare at him, heart hammering. “Kaed?”
“What are you talking about?” His voice is too careful.
“I saw it. When our swords touched. You and her. In her room. On her bed.”
He tilts his head, studying me like he’s never seen me before. “You…saw it?”
“Yes. In my mind. Clear as fucking day. And I saw you, Nyk, Amedeo fighting, Nyk’s face was ripped half off.” I snap, my pulse still racing from the visions. I purposely leave out the memories of his parents.
“It was a long time ago,” he says, voice flat. “You were not alive then.”
I stare at him. “Was my dad?”
Kaed slides his weapon away, clasping his hands neatly behind his back. The stoic Captain is back, and the sight makes my stomach turn. “Yes.”
“So… were they together when you and her—”
“Yes.”
“Does Aiden know?”
“His disdain for me over the years suggests he does.”
That would make sense, since I too am feeling a similar disdain for him. “And my uncle?” My head feels light, either from the magic or this conversation.
“He has never alluded to knowing anything.”
“How long?”
“A long time.”
A cocktail of repulsion and something like jealousy of all things curdles in my stomach.
“You’re disgusting,” I say, before throwing the sword down at his feet and leaving without looking back.