Fantasy - Wildfire - [CLOSED]

[peritwinkle]

The door closed behind her, and Kyel’s scent immediately hit her senses. Kaira wrapped her arms around herself as she stared at the wall; she had intended on donning some warmer clothes and going out to confront him. She felt Kyel’s hand on her and as she turned and their eyes locked, she felt her throat tighten and her heart ache agonizingly. For the first time in so long, her eyes dampened, and it took all she had within herself to smother any whimpers. Instead, she bit down on her tongue and pressed her lips into a line. She could not let him see her cry.

“I cannot understand,” she muttered simply, her lips closing at the right moment to prevent a snivel. “All this time I lived knowing I had nothing left,” she struggled, “and he looked into my eyes and felt nothing. He said nothing.”

She wondered how he had made it out of the fire. It was clear to her that he had not lived an easy life, likely caught up in all sorts of gangs of thieves and pirates, and by the look of him he was well seasoned. He was twenty-four, likely verging on twenty-five, yet his eyes carried the gaze of a hoary warrior. It had been impossible to shake off the resemblance between him and their parents; while she could not remember their faces, somehow she could see both of them in him. Above all, she could see herself, even in his coldness and menacing demeanor. He was there to intimidate, to conquer, and as she was no longer under Alastair’s foot, she strived for the save.

It took her a few good moments to swallow her tears and she turned away from him again, straightening her back in an attempt to regain some dignity. “I want to go find him,” she said. “I will go back to the pub, break the necks of each one of his little minions if that’s what I have to do to get to him.” She turned to look to him again, her eyes still damp and her cheeks a bright crimson. “I need to know how he made it out of there. And I want to know if he is like me.” If he could not control his magic, as well, or if he did, she wanted him to teach her how.

 

[pointmango]

Her eyes looked glossy as if she were holding back tears. He took another step in closer to her, his hand slipped from her forearm to her hand, and the pads of his fingertips moved over her hand to her fingertips as he listened to her speak of her brother. He could not provide any words of comfort, he didn’t know how. He wished to hold her then.

He could tell her mind was in deep thought and then she pulled away from him, and their hands broke apart. She wished to go and see him again, to go back to the pub. She turned back and his eyes filtered over her face, he wished to fix something he knew he could not fix. “Fine,” Kyel said in a deep tone. “We will go to the pub, I could use a drink anyway.”

Kyel turned to the door not waiting for her, and he moved into his own room and pulled off his tunic shirt. He pulled on riding leathers in order to blend better but his stature would make others wary anyway. He reached for one of his less expensive looking cloaks and pulled off the broach. He bent down finally and pet Felix, “I’ll be back soon, boy,” He whispered. Kyel stood again and looked at Kaira, “Come, let’s go.” He nodded forward.

 

[peritwinkle]

As Kyel turned to his own room to get ready, Kaira opened up her travel bag and pulled out the thickest cloak she could find, one that Elisif had purchased for her the night before they left Riftmere. It was of a beautiful dark grey, almost black, with a subtle pattern and white fur across the shoulder pads - definitely not something that would help her blend in, but she wanted Nikolai to know her status, that she was cared for and protected. As soon as she was done, she walked across the hallway to Kyel’s room and waited for him in the doorway, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed as she watched him.

Even in less regal clothes, he managed to look ravishingly handsome. The thick layes of leather made him look even broader and the dark colors emphasized the blue of his eyes. At the sight of him then, the tightness in her throat vanished slightly, and she watched him say goodbye to his pup before he came to join her. As they walked down the corridor and out of the inn to meet the brisk air of Skellig, she could not help but feel a rush of pride by his side, a strange but pleasant feeling that, albeit behind closed doors, he was hers, whether he wished to admit it or not.

The light was oddly bright given the lack of sun, but the rays that filtered through the clouds and reflected against the frozen snow were enough to bask the entirety of the town in a blinding white shroud. It was only when she stepped out that she realised how loud it truly was, and how suspiciously quiet their rooms had been; she supposed the minimal amount of windows contributed to that aspect. Still, she had a strange feeling about that town and she wished to be out of there as soon as possible, even if the thought of going to Ironstone terrified her. ‘Is this why Nikolai came here?’ Kaira wondered. The North was the wrong place for a Volur to live, but not unless the essence of their work was intimidating others, and Kaira doubted Nikolai was a man who strived for acceptance.

“Try not to get worked up too easily,” she explained as they made their way down the crowded pavement. “They are not particularly friendly, none of them.” She supposed she would not be, either, if she had to work in such a gloomy setting. Frankly, she was not the jolliest either, but Nikolai’s minions appeared downright pissed off. It was impossible to imagine them with a sweetheart, or coming back to cradle their children at home. She doubted any of them had children or wives, most gamblers either chose a solitary life or were forced into it by their habits leading to an unhappy marriage.

As they got to the dark pub, Kaira reached for the door handle; it clicked, but the door simply shook in its hinges. It was only then that she saw the deplorable hand-painted sign that said ‘Closed’, and she pulled away with a huff. “They did not want us coming back so soon,” she nodded to herself. They would try again in the evening, when such location was bound to be open. “Come,” she sighed to Kyel as she turned on her heels, “I did not come all the way here for nothing, then. We can at least have a drink until they decide they want to talk again.”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel's eyes watched her as they walked down the crowded streets. Skellig was bustling, as it should be, but he had forgotten how busy the place truly was since visiting his first time. As they walked his hand would brush hers, still needing her close. He side glanced to her when she commented for him not to get worked up, the slightest smirk came to his lips, he was about to tell her he was a Northerner himself, and that he knew the way these people were common or not. But he realized again when it came to her he got worked up quite easily, and so he bit his tongue.

She reached for the handle and it stuck. Locked. Kyel reached again, as if he could budge it open, still locked. She told him to come although she had no idea where she was going and he smiled slightly. “A drink then,” he nodded and walked with her, seeing where her feet would take them. A slowness in her step caused Kyel’s hand to come to hers, “Come on,” he said finally and he pulled her towards the edge of the coastal village closer to the porthouse. There was a lofted pub that looked busier than even the streets of Skellig. Kyel pulled her up the stairs, and walked into the pub. The place was full of fisherman and tradesmen who all turned at the sight of them. While Kyel passed off as a traveler then, Kaira’s robes were expensive, and she was beautiful. Kyel tugged her closer by her arm, the music and chat growing louder and when he came to the bar counter he pushed forward a couple gold pieces. “Upstairs please.” He said to the man.

The man nodded and pointed, Kyel’s hand shifted now moving around the back of her waist as he led her to the back of the scraggly pub. They moved up a narrow staircase to a room with much more intimate seating. The place was still filled, and bustling, people at every turn, but the lights were lower and the mood different from the chaos of the lower level. Perhaps it was selfish to want her in such a setting. The great fun of the North were the drunken men stumbling about pubs, but drunk men liked to look and grab, and Kyel would not be able to handle that.

Kyel led her to sit in a small booth that had a stained window beside it, he shifted so she could sit fist and then he moved to sit on the wooden structure. A woman came over, her dress a deep red color and very long, but her chest was practically pouring from the front. She eyes Kyel curiously, and glanced at Kaira, just as curious. But finally her hand came to Kyel’s shoulder. “What can I get ya,?” She asked with a shallow Northern accent.

Kyel cleared his throat some, “two pitchers, finest ale.” He requested and the woman moved away as Kyel eyes barely looked at her as he spoke his order. “It’s better from the docks, but you can see the boats,” Soon the woman returned with the ale and Kyel pressed forward too much money again. He almost told her how beautiful she was, until he remembered he did so often when they were alone. She was beautiful though. She seemed taller than when he’d first met her on that table in Greenwall. But she was just as beautiful and lithe, and graceful too. He’d never known another woman with eyes that captivated him like hers. He then recalled his track record, he’d met some lovely eyes, but hers were his favorite. He thought she would look even finer in the deep and dark colors of the North. She already had worn them so well at various gatherings they’d been too. His eyes dipped to brooch that clasped her cloak, it was nothing more than an intricate metal to be bought by anyone. He pictured her clasp holding the wolf of Ironstone.

He simply nodded a thank you to the woman who had brought their drinks. With a smile and a swirl of her scarlet skirt she was gone. Only the woman’s scent lingered and Kyel wished to sense only Kaira’s scent. He shifted towards her further, the torchlight from the wall casting a shadow over his face as he twisted. His leg hooked hers beneath the table slightly, “I should take you dancing in one of the villages outside Ironstone… more likely to be recognized there, but it’s good fun I used to-” he cut himself off. He used to sneak Elisif out there, only a couple times, a woman of her status was far too vulnerable in that setting. “What will you say to him?” Kyel asked her now, changing the subject.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira was surprised when Kyel reached for her hand, and albeit tense, she did not pull away. Nobody knew her in Skellig, and he was not dressed particularly lordly; aside from his height, he looked like any other sailor or traveler striding about the old port town. She let him take the lead then, trusting that he knew better than her what would be a suitable place for an afternoon pint, and soon they found themselves before a building that looked considerably newer and better taken care of than their own, with stained glass windows and a hand-carved sign right above the doorway that read ‘The Maiden’ written in cursive, which Kaira doubted the settlers of Skellig could decipher.

As soon as they stepped inside, she was hit by a pleasant smell of apple pie and mulled wine. The place was clean, despite brimming with people, and even the servers looked put together, wearing more lavish clothing than one would expect from such a place. By the look of the women working there, Kaira had a feeling that serving drinks and baking pies was not their sole occupation, but she knew better than to judge, recalling Adrielle’s sourness towards her own attire at their last feast.

Kyel lead her up the stairs and towards a nestled booth close to the window, where the bench and table basked in colorful beams of light. A woman came to take their order right away, likely her own clothing having caught her eye from the moment they had stepped through the door; expensive garments meant and expensive order, and by the looks of it, Kyel was not shy about his money either. A pang of guilt pressed her chest then; she knew she had no means to pay, and everything she had received until then had been an act of charity or a gift far too pricey for someone like her to wear.

Her hand came to her chest and she squeezed the necklace Kyel had given her. “I wonder what this place is like at night,” she commented as the woman walked away. She was certain the food was good, but everything seemed to taste better when there was music and people were dancing and chatting resoundingly at their tables. She listened to his own musings then, drawing slightly closer to him, their shoulders now brushing. She took a sip of her ale as she listened, but he stopped abruptly, once again shifting the subject to her brother.

What would she say to him? Her brows returned to their usual furrow. Kaira leaned back and shrugged, her gaze lost on the specks of dust floating in the light. “How he made it out alive,” she began, “and where he’s been all this time. I wish I could be mad at him for not trying to find me, but I did not, either. I had no doubt they were all gone as I grew older and realized what had happened. Leon never really got into details about how he found me.” And frankly, she did not recall seeing him at all after the fire had burst. All she could remember was the smoke, her mother’s cries, and how Leon had pulled her out of the rubble. To her, it was all a terrifying dream, but nothing vivid enough that she could ever be certain of. “Nikolai is three years older than me,” she added. “He should remember.”

“Forgive me! Ser, o-or, my Lord?” the woman from before came trotting back to them with a napkin in her hand. “Your change,” she smiled, but instead of handing it to Kyel, she seemed to push it closer to Kaira’s side. She turned on her heels quickly before either of them could protest and disappeared downstairs.

“Do they not take a generous tip here?” Kaira took the napkin reluctantly, but there was no weight to it, and as she unfolded it she found a small note nestled inside instead of the presumed coins. Her gut twisted and she folded it back up again, sliding it under the tray. “It says ‘eight o’clock’. He knows I am here.” Bastian had not lied about the fact that the thieves lead everything that moved in Skellig.

 

[pointmango]

Kaira shifted closer to him, his chest tightened as he longed further for her. Beneath the table his hand brushed the side side of her leg. He nodded as she spoke, it was peculiar, but in a moment so chaotic it made sense the small boy could have gotten away. There was no doubt Alastair would have wanted to snatch up both the Volurs had the opportunity presented itself. He wondered if the man did remember, childhood moments were fleeting and traumatic ones often became clouded in his own mind.

Before he could open his mouth the woman came back with change to which Kyel’s brow raised. But she pushed a napkin towards Kaira and left. He leaned in further, the side of his chest pressing against her shoulder to see the note. She read it to him anyway, Kyel looked around at that word, huffing. Thieves, and spies too he would bet. Which meant if someone did recognize him as a Lord word would travel fast. He wondered how much the news of the Volur traveling with the council and Lord of the North had spread. It was likely no longer a secret, still no one had reached out to him yet.

He feared what his own council would say when they returned to Ironstone. Some months before had his thoughts been plagued with romancing a Volur he would have scoffed at himself. And now he was nervous not because of the probable disappointment of his friends and advisors, but that he could not turn their minds. His jaw clenched thinking he may never truly have her. The war was changing things, but would the North no longer so critically place the regard of Volur’s in disgust? The new opening towards the future was so uncertain, and Kyel had no definite visions. His eyes moved over the side of her face, wanting his own closer to hers. How could someone influence his mood so easily? She was beautiful, and mysterious and given freedom he thought mischievous, wondering how she once roused his indignation and now did the same in a much different way.

“Then we shall see him at eight,” Kyel spoke sternly looking at the window again, but his eyes filtered quickly back to hers praying she could not sense the immediate, active anxiety he held with facing another Volur. “Until then we shall drink, and eat.” He told her and popped one of the nuts on the table into his mouth. He would order them some sort of salted fish fry when the bar maid came back to them. “And speak no more of it,” he added with a small smile. “It’s difficult to imagine myself a part of the same world as before. I think so differently now from those I lived amongst. Now it seems like a madhouse, the hate they spit for your kind. They are ancient stories… and when I am with you Kaira, you make me realize we all have souls, good and bad. Some have suffered more than others, and I feel selfish. For you have suffered a lifetime more than anyone should, and I wanted to die because I had only suffered a little, and only for a little while.” He stopped himself from saying more. Omitting that with her presence even the sweet rain falling felt more pure and bright and the only trouble and folly was not being able to have her, and the war.

“Want to hear a Northern story on the ancient volur, the ones old kitchen maids whispered to little Lords and Ladys when pestering for a midnight snack?” Kyel cleared his throat slightly, shifting to her more. “Once there was a curious Volur who lived on the coast of Wendlyn, near the crook that meets the mountains of what is now Windhold. He was a small lad, unassuming, but brave and smart. He learned as much magic as he could. They say he could run on the wind like leaves. Change water to earth, and earth to water with no more than a whispered word.” Kyel sipped his ale. “He was curious and wished to learn more and see the land. Volurs did not visit the North, but this one wished to. And so he traveled North, he donned deep and dark leathers and poked any sort of Iron scales and weapons he could and crossed the river and into the North. It took him many a day, but he finally reached a castle. As he drew closer to the castle the towers rached ever higher as he neared the structure and the Voulur realized this must be the greatest castle in all the world.” Kyel smiled, “As a child I imagined Ironstone,” he added.

“Beneath its walls there were banners rustling in the wind, and Knights all around. The smells of exquisite roasting meat and the bustle of people all around.A great tournament was about to commence and champions from all over the land had come to win the heart of the castle's Queen who was the most beautiful in all the land.” Kyel paused again, “Which is bullshit, eastern women are much more beautiful,” his eyes filtered on her. “The Volur was smitten upon sight. And he entered the tournament, for he knew he could win and thus have her heart. And so the Volur battled, Knight after Knight, and won with a simple wave of his wrist. Until a two legged wolf came, and proposed the rest of the knights work together, to battle the Volur who had cheated with magic. “

Kyel’s eyes looked to the table a moment, but then he looked back at her with a softer expression, “They could not kill the Volur, for he was too strong, but they could only injure him, and they threw him into the mud. As the tournament continued, the wolf’s sister had watched. A fair maid herself, the she-wolf took the Volur from the mud who was bruised and bloodied, and she took him back to her liar to clean his cuts and bind his wounds. She kept him, for she had fallen in love with the Volur and his magical performance. And when her brother had won the tournament, winning the heart of the Queen he was made King. There was a feast, where the two legged wolf, his pup of a brother and his she-wolf sister would all attend as a wedding. The she wolf insisted the Volur attend, for he was her lover and she was not easy to refuse.”

“They went to the castle after the young pup found him garb suitable for a feast and they attended. The land dinned with the wolf and his Queen, sworn swords of fish, moose and bears, and even dragons. And when the wolf lifted to give his speech, the Volur caught sight of his own love, the Queen, and with a sharp strike of magic killed the two legged wolf. The Queen cried out, and the she wolf cried, but it was the two legged wolf’s pup of a brother who pulled his sword striking the Volur through the chest, killing him. In grief of her true love the Queen gave the castle to the pup, who grew to be a fierce beast, and the wolves have ruled the North since.” He wondered what Kaira would make of the story. When he was young he envisioned himself as the pup, growing into the strong Lord of the North, and for a brief moment he saw himself as the two legged wolf in the wake of the war… but now, he was no more than the she-wolf.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira absorbed Kyel’s words as she recited the story from his childhood, and she could not help but wonder if he was sugarcoating or leaving out certain details for her sake. She was well aware children all over Valera, but particularly in the North, were warned about magic and Volur with much more terrifying stories. A soft smile played on her lips as he spoke about the she-wolf falling in love with the sorcerer; it reminded her of him, if the roles were reversed. He had tried to tend to her wounds after the attack and cradled her so protectively following the incident at the feast. To Kaira, it was undeniable that he was, even in the slightest way, projecting himself unto the character.

“No wonder you are not fond of people like me,” she commented sadly, tapping her fingers against the side of the cup. “I have never been told such stories… I did overhear talk of them, sometimes small fragments here and there, from strangers at the pubs. The maidens too, they chatted quite a lot at night.” She recalled going to grab some tea one night, only to find some of the servants gathered up before the fire and sharing such tales. “I never heard a good thing about my kind. Growing up I knew all too well I was born to kill, so there was never a wish within me to deny it. If someone confronted me about it, I was ready to agree.”

She shifted away from him and leaned back as she looked around the room. Nobody there knew her name, or what she was, and she quite enjoyed the feeling of anonymity. In Yllevad, everyone knew her, if not personally then by description - she was not easily mistakable, particularly not in the expensive black cloak that royal Volur wore when serving the King. There, she could easily be taken for a Lady or a damsel of sorts, accompanied by her guard. People looked, gawked even, but she knew it was because of what she wore and how she looked. From what she had seen, women were not remarkably stunning in Skellig, but that could easily be blamed on their financial state. The people were poor, mostly travelers with dirty, patched up clothing or merchants too busy to brush their hair. Among them all, she was still an oddity.

The barkeeper soon brought them some food and a slice of apple pie each, then filled their cups to the rim one more time before they both decided it was time to return to The Coyote. By the time they stepped out into the street, the crowd had broken up, the stalls were now empty and the only people that walked the streets were either going towards a pub or home after an evening of drinking.

“The North is just as I imagined,” Kaira commented as they walked. “The people are simple, quiet, and they only talk about their own business. If I didn’t know I would be lynched in the street if they knew what I am, I would actually fancy living here.” They passed by a group of two women who were packing up the remaining furs from their own stand, and they stopped for a moment to glance, before briskly turning away. “Though I thought you would be different,” she mused. “I thought back on your own land you’d return to your own ways. Seems even here, I make you soft.” She looked at him then and smiled fully. “I was right when I said you don’t hate me as much as you wish you did.”

Eventually, they reached The Coyote and Kaira took the lead, walking in through the now unlocked door. Inside, the light was dim and in smelled of freshly cut wood and beer. The tables were filled with different people now, of all ages yet mostly men, all playing what seemed to be a gambling game of cards, each of them so focused on their stacks that their drinks were almost completely untouched. In the back of the room, she saw the light-haired boy from earlier that day, who was now counting some coins into a wooden box. Kaira made a subtle gesture for Kyel to stay behind her and she walked up to him, leaning with her palm pressed to the table.

“Where is your boss?” she asked.

He perked up and leaned back in his chair, resting his hand on his sheath. “What’s your business.”

“Don’t act dumb,” she narrowed her eyes, and he gave in, parting his lips to answer his question, but they closed just as quickly and his eyes moved to look behind her.

“I didn't imagine you would bring a personal guard,” Nikolai commented from behind.

Kaira turned around and straightened her back, looking him up and down. He was wearing the same clothes from before, one hand resting passively on the hilt of one of his daggers and the other resting in a pocket. Standing up, he was towering over her seemingly even more than before, almost as tall as Kyel. She set her jaw and flashed him a carefully crafted look of apathy. “He is my friend,” she responded calmly. “How did you know where I was? Are you following me?”

Nikolai smirked and huffed. “I cleared some business to talk to you. If I had wanted to have an audience, I would have spared myself the work and talked to you when you came earlier today.”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel stayed close to her on the street, he didn’t trust Skellig, he didn’t trust anyone or anything when it came to her. His brow lifted when she said she would fancy living there. He had to remind himself not to think too much on that comment, but he grew more interested as she commented about him. His jaw tensed slightly when she claimed she made him soft. “You do not make me soft,” he replied back, but let himself smile with her.

He followed her into The Coyote, keeping close behind her. The pub was full of gambling men, but the type of man within were men of shade, thieves and crooks. She led him directly towards the back of the room, certain of her step. Kaira was bold, and Kyel’s expression was harsh as he watched the man, ready for anyone to make a move. He followed the man’s eyes behind them and he turned with Kaira, he stayed in front of her then, taking in the man who had to be Nikolai Grimward. The resemblance was clear. The dark haired man was tall and lithe, but still masculine and strong. His eyes matched hers as well, although he thought hers a hair darker. Kyel’s eyes immediately moved to Nikolai’s hand on his dagger hilt, Kyel’s own hand filtered over the hilt of his sword.

But he stepped aside slightly when Kaira spoke to him and called Kyel her friend. He did not appreciate Nikolai’s smirk, he looked like he knew something they did not. “You will not speak with her without my audience.” Kyel spoke clearly.

“Got yourself a protector, eh?” The blond man spoke standing and drawing too close to Kaira. Kyel saw his movements, he could have stepped forward, pulled his knife from his belt in one step and pressed it against the blond man's throat. Then based on Nikolai’s actions he could slit the throat or release the blond tuft of hair. But Kaira had asked him to behave, and so Kyel would not draw a weapon unless someone else did or made an aggressive movement.

“Those with the Grimwards talents do not need protectors.” Kyel spoke in a rigid tone. Kyel’s gaze moved to Kaira, checking her eyes for anything. He knew she would want to speak with Nikolai alone for at least a moment. His eyes then moved to her brother, the man looking far too smug for Kyel’s liking. “I want to be present when you speak of your… excursion.” Kyel said looking at Nikolai, making it certain this was not a negotiation. Kyel kept his eyes trained on Nikolai as he stepped forward and gripped the back of the blond man’s collar, “Let’s share a cup of ale, little man.” He said with his jaw tight. If Nikolai tried anything against Kaira, Kyel would slaughter his little minion. He dragged him some feet away towards the bar, far enough from the Grimwards he could not overhear, but close enough to be called back easily should they want him.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira could tell Kyel was not fond of the setting by the change in the tone of his voice. He spoke to Nikolai the way he had once spoken to her, when they had first met following the battle at Greenwall. Nikolai eyed him as he walked away with the younger man, and once they were far enough, he gestured for her to occupy the sole empty table. She obeyed without a word, throwing another glance towards Kyel before returning her attention to him as he claimed the seat right next to her. He made another gesture, this time towards a man at the bar, then turned to her with his arms crossed on the table.

“So how did you make it?” Nikolai asked plainly. The barkeeper appeared before him with two cups of ale and he carefully plopped them in the middle of the table before scurrying off.

“I was rescued,” Kaira sighed, leaning against the table as well. “The King’s Volur, Leon… He had been sent there to put an end to the rebellion, and he found me at the right moment. He knew of my - our - family, that they were sorcerers, so he took me in. I suppose they considered teaching an apprentice would be a good idea.”

“You’re the Black Death?” Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “People speak of it every now and then, in the North. More than anywhere in Valera. They say the King raised you to be a weapon of mass destruction.”

Kaira did not answer. Her lips pursed slightly in a silent agreement. Training a pup proved much more fruitful than trying to make an old dog obey. She nodded towards him then, “And you? How did you make it out?”

Nikolai thought for a moment as he tapped his fingers against the wooden table. He had scars on his knuckles, some that even climbed up his arm beneath his sleeve. Judging by that and the maturity of his face, he had not had a particularly easy life. “A man ripped me away from the fire,” he began. “He told me to look straight in front of me, not look back, just run. And I did. He ran with me to a neighboring settlement near Rithe, can’t remember the name, but it was too small to be Trida.” He took a sip out of his ale, then placed the cup back down with a thud. “He had a brother there, who let him borrow his carriage and off we went. He told me he was a tradesman, that he had come to Rithe with business, that he had a ship and a crew to import furs and silks.” Nikolai let out a bitter huff. “I learned later that tradesman is what pirates liked to call themselves to avoid questions. But he was a decent man, he saw me a boy and old enough to sweep around the ship or carry merchandise, so he gave me work in exchange for a roof over my head when it rained and a cooked meal every day.”

“Seems like a fair deal,” Kaira commented.

“It was,” he shrugged. “I had so much worked that I only had time to cry about what happened at night. I was still a kid, unripe mind… I got used to it easily. You were younger than me when it happened.” He eyed her cautiously. “I bet you barely understood what happened.”

“I regretted plenty once I was old enough to understand,” Kaira countered. “But Leon knew how to behave with a kid. I had a normal childhood for two or three years. He treated me well.”

“And the King? Did he treat you well?”

She paused, thinking, and memories crashed over her like a wave. Her fingers tightened around the cup of ale before she took a big gulp. “He taught me how to kill. No circumspection. I executed three souls before I even bled for the first time. But if you’re asking if he took care of me, he did. I was protected there. I never went hungry, or cold, and sometimes he would allow me to roam around Yllevad for a walk or go hunting with his own men. That was my payment, a slice of normality.”

Speaking to him, even sitting by his side felt surreal. Earlier, Kaira’s mind had been flooded with questions, and now she had no clue what to ask him. Instead, her gaze rested on him, analysing each of his features in an attempt to get accustomed to the thought that he was, in fact, her brother. She had never imagined that moment, never even dreamt of it; Leon often told her it was a mistake to dwell on dreams and forget to live, so she had avoided such form of relish at any cost. She did not expect him to love her then, or feel anything for her at all other than the mere understanding that they were related. Still, he looked at her the same way, with a mix of confusion and marvel, as if even for that moment, he recognized her as his little sister.

“So,” she eventually sighed out. “How did you become a mercenary?”

Nikolai cocked his brow. “I would not call myself that, but… A heist here and there, a stolen watch, a robbed pocket… One of Belvin’s friends worked as a thief and took me with him. They called him The Rat, because he worked in a large storage below ground level. He had a gambling business, which he passed on to me after he died, through a will. I suppose I was in his ranks for long enough to consider me trustworthy enough. That, and I think I was considerably smarter than some of the dimwits that worked for him. He always sent me off for the more delicate matters.”

“And now you do the same thing?”

Nikolai opened his arms and smirked, leaning back in his chair. “And I do it better than anyone in the North. Of course, not everything sails smoothly, which was the case for my excursion with one of my ex-associates.” He looked towards where Kyel sat with the golden-haired boy. “But I believe this interests your guard dog, as well.” Lifting his hand, he caught his eye and gestured for him to come to their table.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel sipped on his ale in silence and the blond man watched him. “Yer a big brute of o’ man. What do yah do?” He asked, taking a large gulp of his own cup. Kyel did not answer the man, as far as he knew he was some guard for Kaira, and he had no intention of revealing his Lordship in a large bar full of crooks and shades.

From the corner of Kyel’s eye he saw Nikolai raise his hand and wave him over to them. Kyel picked up his cup of ale and his eyes glared daggers at the blond man, he didn’t want him to follow in case Nikolai needed details of their own task. Kyel sat between Kaira and Nikolai at the table, his cup of ale landing with a loud thud. His gaze investigated her expression before turning to the man a few years older than her. He looked more weathered than his age revealed, but Kyel pushed that thought from his head. He was mischievous, and proud looking. Kyel didn’t trust him.

“We want to hear where you plan to take her. Whom with, and of course the details of your little excursion as well.” He spoke sternly to Nikolai. “Kaira’s position in this war is vital. Her safety should be the most important component. I do not know where you are taking her,” his eyes looked to Kaira now, “Anything that requires two of you must be very dangerous.”

“And so, I would like to offer my sword as well. I have never lost a fight… I suppose except to Miss Grimward here,” Kyel informed Nikolai, this time not looking at Kaira at all.

 

[peritwinkle]

Nikolai relaxed in his chair as the brute occupied the seat between the two of them. He looked older than both of them and visibly the son of a knight or solider: he was well groomed, his body sculpted likely from a decade of training and his eyes were intelligent, observant, and undeniably striking. He looked between the two of them as he spoke, the tone of his voice hinting that there might be another reason behind his protectiveness towards her, but Kaira’s expression gave him nothing in return. She was stern, well composed, and looked at him then just like she would look at a clay vase.

“Firstly,” he started, “I understand you are part of this little rebellion. I got the signatures of the council of Greenwall, Ironstone and Elvgard, though I’ve only met a piece of the first. Before I share my plans, I believe it would not be too curious of me to ask who I’m sharing them with.” He lowered his hand to play with his fingertips over the ball of steel at the top of the hilt of his dagger hanging at his hip.

“There is plenty of time for you to meet everyone,” Kaira commented.

Nikolai shook his head but did not look away from him. “Unless you are hiding something from me, there is no reason why I should not know his name.”

 

[pointmango]

Nikolai was testing him. Taking him in, looking him over and sizing him up, and now he wished to know who he was. Kaira attempted to intervene, weakly, anyway. But Kyel’s eyes watched as the older Grimward’s hand lowered to the top hilt of his dagger. It was a loose threat, especially since Kyel knew of Nikolai’s true powers.

Kyel’s eyes narrowed. Nikolai was cocky, and he was playing and Kyel leaned forward, he kept his eyes on the man who eerily looked like Kaira and he pulled a knife quietly from his belt. He pulled it forward, drawing dangerously close to Nikolai Grimwards leg. “I do not take lightly to threats,” Kyel spoke in a quiet but deep tone. Kyel lifted his knife and placed it squarely on the edge of the table away from him, Nikolai’s hand still seemed to be over his dagger and Kyel glanced at it. It was not the dagger he feared.

“A man asks the question without hinting at his weapon.” Kyel leaned back sitting up more straight, “You needn’t even toy there. You have a weapon drawn always without others' knowledge.” It was clearly not a tik, nor a nervous habit. Kyel never appreciated a proud thief. Still, Kyel kept his harsh gaze locked on the Volur’s. “I am Kyel Skovgaard of Ironstone.” He informed Nikolai.

 

[peritwinkle]

Nikolai’s smirk widened at the man’s defensiveness, but as he spoke his name, the corners of his lips lowered and his jaw tightened. Were he not in the North, he would not have given a dime for a Lord, but he needed to stay on his good side if he knew what was best for his business, even in Skellig. What they did often extended past its limits, and Nikolai did not have a death wish.

He licked his lips and lifted the hand touching his hilt, holding his palm up for a moment before lowering it on his thigh. “There was no ill intention, Lord Skovgaard,” he said simply. “Just a tic.” And it was not entirely a lie. Nikolai knew that given his age, it was impossible to earn the respect of others without threats or pure action, but with the Lord of Ironstone, he was well aware the mere thought that Nikolai was a Volur intimidated him. It was the case for most Northerners if not all, and it kept him floating above any other gang hiding about the town or anywhere in the land. That, combined with The Rat’s reputation, made him almost untouchable.

He downed the rest of his ale, then put the cup down and kept his hand around it, his nail tracing the pattern etched in the bone. “About a year ago, we were contacted by someone who wished to have an artifact retrieved from the Library of the Silent,” he began. “Naturally, we would not mess with high security areas, but the payment was more than handsome, and if we succeeded, my men would each get enough to start a fresh life out of this dumpster of a town. We accepted, and the plan was to reach the library through the old escape tunnel built beneath the cliff, the one that those old hags built in case of an attack or storm. We decided it was not a job for too many people, so I brought along my most trusted associate, who specializes in sneaky escapes.”

“Just the two of you? Breaking into the Library of the Silent?” Kaira cocked her brow.

“That was the plan,” Nikolai nodded. “Getting in was the easy part. However, a... lack of communication lead to us being discovered by one of the masters there right as we found the box. I managed to kill him without a mess, but I suppose they had some sort of… strange magical connection, because when we tried to sneak back up where we came from, it seemed everyone had been alerted. So we ran.” Nikolai then took Kyel’s dagger and placed it in front of him. “The only way out was jumping into the sea. Matias urged me to essentially kill our way out safely back into the tunnel, but I obviously refused. We knew there were slim chances of us surviving the swim against the waves, let alone do so with a box in our hands, so the only way I could get him to follow me was to whack the box out of his hands and hurl him through the windows and into the water.”

“How did you know there were no rocks beneath?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t. But there was no way I could take on one hundred Volur. So we took the risk.”

Kaira’s brow furrowed, but she knew Nikolai was right. Although the Silent were not allowed to kill, she doubted they would have ended well if caught. “So you want to go back there and retrieve the box?” she muttered. “Don’t you think they would have increased the security?”

“Not unless a little songbird came and whispered in their ears that we entered through the escape tunnel. They had no idea I am a Volur. Had I tried to come through the tunnel, I would have been gutted by their guard bear, and since I was blessed with those wonderfully skilled hands,” he fluttered his fingers at them, “I managed to simply put it to sleep.”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel watched as he pulled his hand from the dagger, insisting no ill intention. But as he explained their excursion Kyel’s entire body only grew more tense. The Library of the Silent. No. He wasn’t sending her to break into a sacred establishment full of beings with the exact same power and defenses as her. He sucked in slightly when he placed Kyel’s dagger back in front of him, if they could not sneak in the first time, what made him think it would work a second time?

Kaira was strong, she could take down more men than he’d seen a single man able. But she was not well practiced enough to even take an army yet. Kyel wished they stayed at the pub, where he could sit beside her, and place his hand over her leg. Forget about Nikolai Grimward and his radical request and tell her as many stories as he could remember. Ask her to share some as well, needing her voice in his ear like when she told him about Yllevad.

His eyes looked at Kaira then, he wondered if Bastain would agree to this little adventure now. “This is a fool’s mission.” Kyel said, then shifting to look back to Nikolai. “You cannot ask another to help take out the shipments in Yllevad? Handle it yourself?” Kyel rubbed the side of his face. It was foolish, she could die, he could die. All for what? To gain passage with a man who would help Nikolai blow up some boxes of supplies. Surely there was another way. He leaned in. “What’s in the box Grimward? What is so important this man would cut off all contact with you over something so small?”

 

[peritwinkle]

Nikolai set his jaw and canted his head at Kyel. “Matias is the only one who knows how to get into the royal dock and avoid the guard shifts,” he explained. “He worked on one of them going in and out of Yllevad for years before he joined us. Doing it myself would be a death mission.”

He pushed the knife back to Kyel and leaned back in his chair as he continued with his next inquiry. “That, I do not know. When I told Matias about it, he was vehement about accepting it, as if he could slip back into the King’s graces somehow if he found out he was the one who brought it to him. From what I know, he did not stop working for Alastair willingly, but was kicked out due to a dispute he never really got into detail about, but I suspect theft.” Nikolai shrugged. “Either way, he did not forgive me for giving up on this opportunity, which is why he left. I heard he works for another gang, somewhere closer to Ironstone, but I might be mistaken. I have not seen him ever since the heist.”

Kaira shook her head. “This is mad,” she muttered between her teeth. Risking so much for simply holding Alastair back a few weeks felt ridiculous. The plan could either go well, or they could lose two of their most important chess pieces in one blow.

“However,” Nikolai lifted his brow, “Considering how much he offered to pay us for that stupid box, I am sure it was nothing trivial. You of all people could know what he would be looking for.”

Then, the realization struck her like lightning. “The stone,” Kaira tensed. She straightened her back and leaned over the table, eyeing Nikolai. What could a small box hidden in a library contain other than perhaps a piece of archaic jewelry or a folded manuscript. “There is something he is looking for and would be willing to give so much money and even titles for. Nikolai, I think Matias knows what’s in that box, otherwise he wouldn’t risk his life so easily for it… The stone is used for a ritual of ensuring a successful pregnancy. One of the reasons he kept me is because he believed I could fulfill this ritual for his wife.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed again in intrigue and disgust. “He wants you to do a birthing ritual that’s known to wreak havoc on every Volur that has ever tried it before? Why did he not have his other puppet do it?”

“Because Leon is not strong enough,” Kaira admitted. “He is a powerful Volur, intelligent and well versed in… everything. But the ritual would surely kill him before it was done.”

“And so he would rather kill you?”

“So long as he has the stone, and it does not get damaged during the ritual, he would simply replace me if I die or… become dysfunctional. But for that he would give anything - money, titles, land… And if you say your friend did not willingly leave that well paid job at the port, then that stone might actually be his way out of this muddle.”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel frowned deeply learning they needed this man Matias. He didn’t want anyone else besides their council shifting the tides, and bringing Nikolai into the mix already frustrated him greatly, but to rely on another man entirely was foolish. Kyel took his knife, pushing the dagger back into its sheath.

He listened intently, wondering what the hell could be in the box. As Nikolai continued, Kyel distrusted this Matias even more. Risking his life tenfold to get back into the graces of King Alastair? He would betray them. When Nikolai prompted Kaira, asking if she knew of the stone, the realization was clear on her face. Kyel’s jaw clenched as she revealed Alastair's intention with the stone, his intentions with her. Raising the most powerful Volur the world has seen in centuries for slaughter for a fucking heir because he could not perform.

“Then we will retrieve the stone.” Kyel said in a stern tone. “We will fool your friend, get his help with the promise of the stone. But I want the stone destroyed.” Kyel spoke very clearly. Alastair would not have the power, nor the stone. And he certainly would not make his mission of the war to steal Kaira back. She was free, and he would be damned to see her taken again only to be slaughtered in the process.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira could see it in Nikolai’s eyes that he was not too pleased with Kyel’s proposition. Lying to him meant that he would never convince Matias to return to his crew, and the man would likely never forgive Nikolai for pulling him into such a risky heist without any payment, let alone Alastair’s recognition. He chewed on the inside of his cheeks a moment, trailing his finger across the rim of his empty cup of ale, before lifting his eyes to meet Kyel’s again.

“I will have to think of it,” he decided. “Matias and I have not been friends for long, but I do not betray my people. I would at least need to find a way to ensure he is compensated for all this.”

Kaira nodded silently. She knew the only reason he was not refusing this proposal entirely was because his newly discovered sister was involved, otherwise Kaira was certain that Alastair’s payment in exchange for the stone would be much greater than anything they could offer him. Nikolai was torn, she could see it in his eyes, and she wished she could touch his hand and thank him, but something told her he was not one who enjoyed much affection. She stood up then, finished her ale and pulled her cape more snugly around her form. Nikolai watched her from his seat, the expression of mischief on his face having turned to pensiveness. He had given them more than she had expected and his openness towards her felt almost suspicious.

“Thank you, Nikolai,” she said finally. There was no need for a touch or any word of affection; Kaira’s gaze had softened, and she knew he could tell. “We will be riding to Ironstone together and recruit your friend. If you can live your business here, it would be of great use for us if you joined.”

Nikolai lowered his head. “I will see what I can do. You will know my response tomorrow.”

“You want us to come again?”

“No need,” he smirked, and Kaira knew all too well what he meant. If this man wanted to reach them, he had all the means to. His web spread all across the town of Skellig.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel did not speak to Nikolai as they left the Coyote. He did not speak to Kaira as they walked back towards the inn. With the rage growing inside of him, it was better to maintain a respectful silence. His gaze remained forward and he scowled deeply. The dirty streets of Skellig were mostly empty, save a few beggars and drunken men. Kyel kept her close to him, but it did not stop a drunken fool from tugging on her cloak when they passed through a narrow alley. “A pretty cloak, the street is no place for a Lady… let me show you inside.” The man laughed tugging again, and the men around him did as well.

Kyel turned, his hand pressing against Kaira’s stomach pushing her backwards. He stepped forward and the man drew a dagger pressing it Kyel’s side. Kyel’s large hand squeezed around the drunken fool’s throat and the man laughed in his face. “Nothing that cannot be settled over a drink… perhaps a game for the Lady?” The drunken man teased with a croaked chuckle. Kyel’s hand tightened on his neck and he felt the dagger press harder into his side, ready to pierce his leathers. The man’s jovial eyes turned to fear as Kyel saw his face begin to turn red, and then purple. His fist clenched and he swung, punching the man hard in the center of his face, his nasal bone cracking. Another quick and harsh punch and he felt the man go limp and Kyel released his grip, hearing a gasp as his drunken friends leaned over the foolish man.

The Northern Lord turned away from the man, and his hand reached out gripping Kaira’s forearm as he pulled her back towards the inn at a much faster pace. When they arrived he opened the door for her, and moved to the counter requesting a larger pitcher of ale and two cups. He carried the pitcher upstairs, passing right by his room and following her into hers. He poured two cups of ale and then set the pitcher down.

Kaira did not shy away from ugly scenes, she sat through her fate and did what she needed to take care of herself. He wondered how free she truly felt with them? Or were they just better than the alternative? Kyel had thought she was ambitious, he was less sure now. Was she just trying to kill the man who was trying to kill her? She was exceptionally aloof, it was why he so often had to ask her what she was thinking. He couldn’t tell with her, he could never figure her out. She was powerful, and intimidating, and as the war raged many prospects would find her. He felt himself ready with her, ready to endure a great deal of predominance from both himself and the fear of what she was. She had a beauty and a cleverness he delighted, and she was thoroughly charming to him. He often tried not to theorize about his attachment to her, but it was difficult to ignore when he felt such rage over the prospect of her death.

His jaw was set when he finally turned to her pulling off his cloak, just left in the common leathers. Kyel took three steps towards her, his head casting downward to meet her gaze. He watched her silently for a few moments, he had thought he understood why the King wanted Kaira. For the war, not for some ritual, not to take her from him. His eyes trailed over her, studying how regal she appeared in such clothing. She looked like a Lady. “You did not tell me Alastair wanted to kill you.” He spoke darkly.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira followed Kyel outside of The Coyote without another word, and he did not seem interested in small chat, either. Even without looking at him, she knew he was scowling, from the weight of his step and his clenched fists. They turned around the corner leading to the main alley, and Skellig proved even emptier than before, with the exception of a few drunken men sitting on a ledge that reeked of alcohol from a few solid meters away. She did not think much of them as they passed by, her gaze forward careful not to slip over the frozen pavement, when she felt something tug at her cloak. Kaira turned towards what she knew would be one of the drunken men and she parted her lips to warn him to drop it, but before any word came out of her mouth, Kyel pushed her back and took the matter into his own hands.

It all happened too fast: within the next moment, the man who had grabbed her turned all the colours of the rainbow before being struck down by two ruthless punches in the face. Neither of them even attempted to avenge their friend, and Kyel took the opportunity and pulled her away, urging the two of them even faster towards the inn they had rented for the night.

From the moment they left to when they reached her own room, it took Kaira everything within her power not to say anything to him. She knew he was furious, likely a fruit of his worry considering everything Nikolai had told them. She knew he did not want her to take on the job, but they had no choice. It was not only their plan at stake, but the possibility of the perpetuation of Alastair’s line if they waited too long and he found another to do his deed. She watched him remove his cloak and come towards her, and her eyes locked on his harshly.

“Is that what made you so angry?” she growled quietly at him. “Had I told you earlier, what would you have done? Promised to protect me?” She huffed. “Alastair does not want to kill me. If he knew the ritual would surely kill me, he would have chosen someone else. He believes I can survive it.” She turned away from him then and towards the window, leaning over with her hands pressed against the sill below. “I would have been perfectly able to take care of myself there and you know that. There was no need to draw blood for a stupid tug.”

A long, heavy breath left her chest before she turned back, removed her cloak and placed it back in her trunk. It was still oddly cold inside, or perhaps the cold had bitten so deeply into her bones that the heat no longer touched her. She was shaking and she could not tell whether it was the temperature or the adrenaline rush from earlier. She clenched her teeth tightly and sat on the edge of the bed, removing her boots. “I don’t need your protection, Kyel,” she murmured. “I saw the way to tensed up when we spoke to Nikolai. He might be my brother, but I don’t trust him either. That doesn’t mean I will threaten him into loyalty.”

 

[pointmango]

His jaw only tensed more harshly when she huffed at him. His eye followed her as she moved to lean against the window sill and grew only more upset as she tried to tell him what he knew. He watched her pull off her cloak ignoring her mention of his outburst on the drunken thug. She sat at the bed’s edges and he stepped closer to her without realizing it. “Well you have it,” he said in his own low growl in regards to his protection over her.

Unfortunately it wasn’t Nikolai Kyel was worried about. Some strange part of him thought the man would do right by his sister under any circumstance. It was his friend who needed the stone. If Alastair got the stone, the priority would shift from defending Yllevad and Castle Dahnmar to trying to regain Kaira. It still seemed like that was his priority. If it was Nikolai at least Kyel could keep an eye on him, but there were too many unknown factors mixing within their troops and his control was becoming less and less with every passing day.

Kyel stepped forward again, one of his hands moving to the bed, his body coming close to hers, and his other hand on her waist, pushing her to lean back slightly. “You are the most important factor of this war, Kaira.” He spoke intensely, she was the most important factor to him as well. “We need you safe,” He told her. I need you safe. “You’ve grown with the protection of the castle, with Alastair and Leon constantly by your side, you never had to think about outside threats, threats that crawl the streets, especially here. You’re young, you are brilliant and powerful, but you’re also rash and I don’t think you see your value.” He didn’t know if he was talking about the war anymore. “You will go on this little excursion, but I will not let that stone into wrong hands, Kaira.” It wasn’t a question, he was trying to will it just by speaking it.

 

[peritwinkle]

As Kyel drew closer to her, Kaira’s eyes narrowed over his features. Once again, he managed to tower over her, an undeniable attempt at intimidating her into submission. He was aware of the effect he had on her, but Kaira doubted he knew she had full helm over when that happened. Slowly, she ran her fingers over his arm, then shoulder, then stopped at his neck and they wrapped around it right below his jaw in a less than gentle touch. Her fingertips turned cold and his own skin mirrored, and as she held onto him, her eyes never left his.

“I am very much aware of my value in this war, Kyel,” Kaira whispered close to his lips. “And I am very much capable of preserving myself, perhaps better than you, the council or Leon ever could.” She knew her touch would hurt to a degree, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. She canted her head and drew even closer then. “Do not take my affection towards you as weakness, Kyel. I still have full reign over what I choose to feel. Choose another to manipulate.”

With that, she let go of him and slid across the bed to the far end, now searching in her trunk for a night gown. Once she found it, she set it on the edge of the mattress and turned away from him on the other side of the bed, slowly beginning to remove her riding attire.

 

[pointmango]

Her fingers ran over him, and her digits stopped just beneath his jaw tightening on his neck. He felt the coldness instantly, his eyes on hers as he let out a deep exhale form the pain. The chill wasn’t unbearable, but it was enough to make him want to jerk away. But with her mouth so close to his and he wished to lean in and close the gap. His body tensed when she called him a manipulator.

She pulled away from him and his own hand came up to his neck, feeling the cold flesh. His eyes followed her as she moved towards the trunk, pulling out a nightgown. Kyel stepped towards her, his hands moved to her waist gripping the side of her riding attire as she was removing it. His front pressed flush against back and one of his hands circled her waist more firmly, pressing against the center of her stomach, moving her body further against him. “I do not take anything about you as weakness,” he spoke clearly and close beside her ear. Except in the case of myself, he thought.

Kyel breathed her in, smelling the saltiness of her hair from walking through Skellig all day. His other hand came to the base of her neck and slowly trailed up her pulse point to the base of her jaw now. His own hand squeezed like hers did but he didn’t have the power to make her flesh cold. His thumb lifted, pushing her head to look back at him, feeling the strain in her collarbone. “You needn’t use magic to gain my attention.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

Kyel’s hand lifted back into her hair, and tilted her head backwards leaning his own downward and pressed his lips hungrily against hers. He shifted her again, turning her around as he helped her riding attire fall to the floor. His forehead came to rest against hers, he neck still stringing up slightly from their difference in height as Kyel leaned down slightly. His hands touched her cheek, lifting her head again as he leaned down kissing her lips again. His hands came into hers, pressing her fingertips to the ties of his own leathers now, wanting her to disrobe him tonight.

 

[peritwinkle]

A shiver ran through Kaira’s limbs as she felt Kyel behind her. His own hands trailed up to her neck the way hers had, but his movement was gentle, demanding, fueled by hunger rather than hurt. Kaira felt herself being turned around, and as she pressed herself to him and their lips crushed against one another, she felt her stomach twist painfully. She reciprocated the kiss only barely, allowing his hands to lead her own to the leathers of his garments, but instead of undoing the ties, they rested against his chest. She broke away from him only an inch and lowered her head, now her eyes fixated on a wrinkle in Kyel’s shirt, unable to look up at him.

“No,” she whispered to him. “No, I cannot… Not after this day, I cannot.” She thought of the many times she had wanted him and the times she had received what she longed for, and now it felt wrong again, but for an entirely new reason. She could not overlook having discovered her brother, unveiling the location of the stone that could bring her death - or worse - and the violent incident in the streets after leaving the pub.

Her hands were shaking and she felt the same knot in her throat impair her ability to swallow. Kaira placed her head on Kyel’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck, and closed her eyes for a moment. She wondered if he would think badly of her for her refusal, if his frustration with her had any limits she had now crossed. Her heart stung at the possibility that he only desired her for those forbidden moments, but she tried to shake the thought out of her head. ‘No,’ she thought, recalling the attack by Alastair’s men. ‘He would not have risked his life for me.’ Yet the possibility lingered on her already heavy mind, and all she wished to do was sleep. Cry, and sleep, but how stupid would it be to weep after a display of power?

Every muscle in her body ached and she felt uncomfortably cold, in spite of the fire and the piece of cloth placed snugly by the lower edge of the window. She remembered the way Leon had stayed with her once when she was sick, waiting by the bed with a book in her hand. The man had never been particularly affectionate, but he had his ways of showing his love for her, and over time she had learned to appreciate the smallest of things. And although the old man had not held her, being in Kyel’s arms reminded her of that: he was her bed then, her blanket, the heat of the hearth in her room in Castle Dahmar and the warm tea Leon had forced her to sip on to soothe her chills. She wished to be alone to cry, but she did not wish for him to go. Her mind was dark, muddled, and she wondered if that day’s events would let her sleep.

Most importantly, she wondered if Nikolai was in his own room now, hurting the same.

 

[pointmango]

Her kiss was not how it had been other nights, and her hands failed to move to untie his leathers. When she pulled from him she would not meet his eyes and his brow furrowed as his expression darkened with worry. She couldn’t after the day she had. He hadn’t thought of that. He should have thought of that, all the things that brought her sadness, even fear in this moment had brought him rage and he neglected her thoughts entirely.

He felt her hands shaking at his chest, and she leaned her head into him. His arms moved around her again, this time more fiercely, in a protective hug. Finally Kyel parted from her, his eyes stayed on hers and he bent slightly to gather her night gown for her, helping the garment over her arms. Once her night gown was on he removed his leathers down to his undergarments, and pulled her hand towards the bed. He scooped her up gently, laying her down into the bed before pulling the blanket over her. Kyel moved to the otherside of the bed and moved into the covers himself. His arms came tight around Kaira’s waist and he pulled her to him, this time turning her so she was facing him.

Kyel’s hand lifted to her cheek, and his large rough thumb stroked the gentle skin of her cheek. His fingertip traced just below her cheekbone, “Sleep Kaira,” he whispered. Then Kyel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her chest, right beside where the necklace he gave her was. She always wore it. “Does it help with the dreams?” He asked quietly, the slightest hint of a smile upon his lips.

“If you cannot sleep, we can talk,” he suggested, “Or not, although I do enjoy your soothing tone,” Kyel revealed to her. “It is hard for me not to grin when you speak at council, especially when you are telling another off,” his hand played with the necklace at her chest now. Whenever she spoke at council he felt pride, especially in those moments when she presented herself with a regality he seldom saw in women. His arms then moved to wrap around her again, pulling her in tighter against him, he thought about asking her if she wished to hear another story, but instead his lips pressed to her forehead, his gaze becoming harsher as he thought of the words he wished to speak to her then.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira felt a wave of cold wash over her as Kyel pulled away, but soon his arms were around her again, helping her don her night gown. He was gentle and slow in his movements, as though she could break like glass beneath his touch, and his expression was troubled, unsure. Once she was dressed, he swung her off her feet and cradled her into his arms towards the bed, before settling her down and pulling the blanket over her. Kaira watched him slip beneath the covers on the other side of the bed and she allowed him to pull her closer, closing her eyes. What did he think of her then? Did he think her weak, pathetic, tiresome? Judging by his face he looked more rattled than irked about her.

A small sigh escaped her lips at his questions. She did not want to talk, the knot in her throat did not allow for it. She opened her eyes again to look at him as he toyed with the necklace on her chest and her hand came to rest over his. “I’m not sure,” she murmured shakily, then cleared her throat. “I suppose it would take another vision to figure it out.”

It was all she could say to him without bursting, and the mere act of holding it all in ached like a dagger through her chest. She remembered how she used to hold in her tears around Alastair when she was a child, and how it often failed around Leon; somehow, she did not fear the latter when it came to her feelings, but she knew Alastair would see her as weak. With Kyel, she could never know; judging by his words, he only wanted her to fill a void in his heart, but his actions often proved something else. Even at the councils, when he often raised his voice in her defense. The thought was almost amusing knowing he had asked for her to be killed after the battle at Greenwall.

She had intended to take a small break to soothe the knot in her throat before asking him to tell her something, anything. That request, however, never came, and whether it was the ale or the long day, she fell asleep quicker than she had intended, with her brows furrowed deeply and her hand clenched around his.

*​

“Ma’am, no need-”

“No, no, no, dear, give this to me.”

The door creaked open and Elisif’s face popped from behind the frame, holding a silver tray in her hands. Her eyes were averted and her cheeks as red as ripened apples. “I’m sorry but believe me, you would rather I woke you up than Bastian or Jon,” she murmured softly as she stepped into the room and placed the tray on the nearest table. She occupied her hands with pouring two cups of tea and sweetening them with a dark, amber coloured honey. “Will you please wake Kaira, her brother is downstairs and I truly do not like the way he stares at me. They are all awake and I doubt you’d want them to see you come out of-”

“Elisif,” Kaira’s husky voice called from the bed and pushed the blanket to her feet. “Thank you. I am dressed, there is no need to look away.”

Lady Vannbrek swiftly turned around and leaned against the table behind her. Her eyes painted an expression of slight distress and the dark circles under her eyes told Kaira that she had not had much sleep through the night. “I am sorry,” she murmured. “Kaira, please do go, before he gets a hold of Jonathan. And Kyel… A word, perhaps? Alone?”