Page 55 of Of Nightmares & Fire
“Conversation?” He asks sharply.
“There was a man; he was very interested in who I was and where I was going. He gave me the creeps.” I admit, confused as Kyros gets up, shoving things into a canvas bag. He pulls a tunic over his head, tying his long hair back away from his face, and continues to storm around the room. “Kyros.” I say his name, and he doesn’t even look at me. “I’m sure it was nothing.” I finally say, and he stops, slowly turning toward me.
“Why were you so upset?”
“I don’t know; he seemed so familiar, but I don’t know if it was what he said just as I was leaving that made me feel like he was warning me. I’m sure it was nothing. I’m just on edge, I suppose,plus a little embarrassed.” I gesture to the nightdress I’m wearing. Kyros puts his hand out between us, and I place mine in his. Even as I do, the man’s voice echoes through my mind. “You don’t know what kinds of monsters lie in waiting out in the desert.” I repeat the words the man said, and heat fills my body as he pulls me to my feet, wrapping one arm around my back as he pulls me into him.
“You will trust me to keep you safe?” He asks, and I agree as he tucks my hair behind my ear. “As sunset falls, we will be leaving. I’ll go get your clothes from Mortala. Don’t leave this room.” He says firmly. Honestly, even though this place is incredibly beautiful, I am ready to move on. I need to see Cole with my own two eyes, and I need to decide if I will be running away with her or choosing to stay and join Queen Phaedra of Diemos against my father and what would be the end of his tyranny.
“I’ll be right back.” Kyros growls, his fingers tangling into the back of my hair as he tilts my head back so I am forced to look at him. “Stay. Fucking. Put.”
Chapter thirty-eight
Kyros
Myfeetpoundthewood planks of the tavern floor as I make my way out, searching for the fucker I know came at Astraea. He will die just as his brother did. I should have killed him earlier for the threat he said to me. But now? It had to have been him. I didn’t need to know what the man looked like from her recollection. No one else here would be stupid enough to threaten who they surely know is mine.
“Where is he?” I growl as I burst into the dining room; several heads snap in my direction. Chairs scrape against wood as a few women get up quickly to leave. No one says anything. Mavros is the one with a temper. Mavros is the one who actsbefore thinking, but with her? I find that every time there is a situation with her, my control leaves me entirely. I pick up a glass pitcher filled with water and hurl it across the room. It hits the wall, the glass shattering into a thousand glittering shards just like my patience, and the water splashes out everywhere, soaking the wall and the floor beyond it.
“Karnnen!” I bellow, but it’s not him who responds.
“Hawk! Ya fuckin’ heathen!” Mortala comes hurling herself at me with a kitchen knife aimed for my heart. I pluck the senseless weapon from her grip, and she scoffs in frustration before I toss it away and growl.
“Where is he, Mortala? I will level this entire place if you don’t tell me.”
“Don’t you threaten me, ya fuckin’ brute. You already made a mess of the place. He left with his dark doers already, so if you wanna kindly fuck off, that would be great. Take that twit with ya too! Probably safe to say keep that one close to ya if ya care about her well bein’… Karnnen had that look about’m.” I narrow my eyes on her. “Don’t look at me like that. I sent the girl back to you before he could sink his teeth in.” She looks at the mess I made. “And look at what that got me. You best never come back here.”Fuck. This is not a problem I need right now.
I walk over to the bar, slamming down a pouch of coins for Mortala and leveling her with a glare. The crass old hag does well not to say another fucking word. She takes the bag and gives it a jiggle before pocketing it, turning back to the kitchen and returning with a stack of folded clothes I recognize as Astraea’s.
“Yer never going to do what ya set out to if you keep that temper. That twin of yers may get away with it… but with a plan like yers…” She trails off, her brow hiked up her face, but the look I pin her with must be enough to stop her words before she finishes.
“We were never here,” I say gruffly before turning. The tavern door swings open just as I am facing it, and a guard wearing armor that reflects the glaring sun steps into the room.
“On order of the king, his majesty King Connard Casimir of Eathian, we are here to search the vicinity.” He announces, and I use what little magick has resurfaced to allow the shadows to obscure my position.
“Searchin’ fer what?” Mortala says, her eyes sliding to where I am easing my way back toward the room Astraea waits in. Just as my hand wraps around the cool metal handle, I hear the response I know is coming.
“The fugitives who ran away from the palace with Princess Astraea Casimir. The bounty for their return to the king is hefty. Any aid in catching the ones responsible alive will be rewarded handsomely.” Just as I suspected.
I slip through the door and close it behind me, tossing the bundle of clothing at Astraea as I do. The shock in her rounded eyes is cut off as I place my finger to her lips and tap my ear. I shake my head. We can’t risk anyone hearing anything right now, and I grit my teeth as I think about how we are going to have to get out of here. Another setback. Another obstacle getting in the way of us returning to the others and to Diemos.
I make my way around the room gathering everything into canvas totes we have unpacked while here, then turn to find Astraea fully dressed again. Her leg lifted to the bed, and she straps the knife I gave her to the outside of her thigh with a belt. The slippers she once wore are replaced with boots, and the dress is now adorned with a holster, securing two more blades to her chest. Pride and unease fills my chest. The two emotions are warring together, but I shake it off as I reach out to her.
“Trust me.”I silently mouth, and her eyes flick from the door back to me before she nods decidedly. At that, I allow my magick to crawl away from me. The energized shadows cracking and popping like hot coals before they ignite in a burst of flame. The arched portal floods the room with the orange glow of firelight, and I look back at Astraea. “Close your eyes, and think only of your trust in me.” Even though her worried lip trembles, she nods as she takes my hand. Entwining our fingers in an unbreakable lock, and just as the door behind us bursts open, we step through the rendered portal, and I force it to snap shut before the guards can hurl themselves through, too.
The sky is a blazing inferno of coppered crimson, clashing with the deepest indigo. It’s the first thing I see, then our feet land, and I look down as we sink into the glittering black sands of the Dead Sea. Miles of dark dunes like the long-forgotten ocean waves, readyto swallow the sinking sun in the distance. It would be beautiful, but a sound at my back has dread coiling around my spine. The hiss of an unsheathing sword reaches my ears.
“Move, and you’re both fucking dead.” A calloused voice rings out right behind us, and a cold chill rakes over me as Astraea stiffens at my side. Her hand in mine squeezing a little tighter as fear grips her. “Look what we have here, boys… A render, and he brought a play thing.” I can’t stand here doing nothing. Not when he’s looking at her. Not when I want nothing more than to pluck his fucking eyes from their sockets and rip his tongue from his mouth for speaking about her like that.
I spin, pulling my hand that holds Astraea so that she is shielded behind me, as a possessive snarl rips from my throat. She sucks in a sharp breath but braces herself at my back as what is left of my shadows comes out like a whip in my hand.
“Touch her, and it will be the last thing you do.” My voice comes out low and menacing as the sand at my feet begins to vibrate with energy. My eyes flick down at the odd sensation, but I bring them back up within the same second. Not giving the threat in front of us any indication of my wariness.
The men who stand before us are draped in black muslin shemaghs that cover their faces. Leather straps hold an assortment of weapons on every body facing us. Tsalalerian steel swords glittering from nearly all of their hips. I grind my teeth.Scylia pirates. Of fucking course, I would have to rend a portal right at their camp. Fuck.
An exuberant chuckle comes from behind the one with his sword drawn as the one who it belongs to comes into sight. His shemagh is dropped to a bundle around his neck, his stringy black hair hanging limply to his shoulders, and a smile splits his face as he steps up to the left of the man in the center. The man on his right stands solid, his arms crossed over his chest smugly.
“We don’t want trouble.” I say, steadily feeling the buzzing sensation building at my feet as I try to focus and count the number of people I may have to kill.
