Page 80 of Of Nightmares & Fire
“I should do us all a favor and kill you in your sleep.” Zinya remarks and just looks at Kyros as he approaches. They don't say anything, but I see the silent conversation they have with their eyes. The same conversation they seem to have every time they see each other these days. Mavros smirks at the exchange before shouldering past his brother and laughing as he runs down the hall and starts messing with Zinya again.
“Get the horses ready. No one rides alone. Doubles only for our group. It will be the same when we leave for Diemos in the morning. I was informed that Khol and Eidola were brought back to the stables. Make sure that they are not the horses we take tonight. They will rest until morning.” Kyros says in a low voice to Viltarin, who just nods, looking at me and then at Cole. I see the slight twitch on his lips when he looks at her a little longer than necessary, and I can't help but look away with a smile.
“I'll come with you,” Cole interjects, and there is no way that my face hides anything of my surprise. “If that's ok, I mean…” She continues, her freckled face turning muddled with blush. Viltarin clears his throat with a smile.
“Of course.” He offers Cole his arm, and she puts a hand on my elbow with a squeeze. Her eyes are saying everything she’s already expressed to me during our alone time today.Talk to him. Tell him how you feel.Viltarin leads her away, and as they shrink in the distance and then turn toward the stairs, I become very aware that I am once again alone with Kyros.
“Where did you go?”
“Did you get good rest?” We both begin speaking at the same time. He clears his throat, his hand coming up to grip the back of his neck. I smile at him, and if I don’t know any better, I think I see a hue of pink rising into his cheeks.
“I slept better than I have in a while.” I answer his question, and he offers me his arm. I take it, and he guides me through the house. We walk in silence for a while. As he releases my arm, he threads his fingers through mine. The gesture feels intimate and loud at once.
“When this celebration first started, it wasn’t what it is today. It started out sorrowful. The kingdom was no longer what it was. Our loved ones were slaughtered for the mere fact that we had magick or supported those who practiced in the way of the Neer.” He says, his hand tightening around mine.
“I was young. The first one was a year after your father took the throne. I was angry. I didn’t want anything to do with the celebration. That year it was less of a celebration and more so a dayof remembrance. It all seemed to be a waste of time; I remembered every day what had happened to my parents. I saw it happen with my own eyes.” His eyes go distant for a brief second, as though he's now remembering that very moment. “I sat there and watched the flames that were supposed to burn away the grief and bring peace to those souls who enter the fire and cross over to Runerth, and only thought about how the fire that once burned inside of me was only smoke and shadows now.”
“I’m sorry. It's not enough, I know, but it's all I have.” I tell him, pulling on his hand as I come to a stop. “I'm not my father. I never wanted any of this.” I tell him honestly.
“I know, Shula.” He takes my other hand, threading our fingers together there too. “It’s ironic how life has brought us together.” He continues. His eyes flick over my face. I notice his gaze flickering from my forehead, eyes, lips, and slowly, I see the subtle flattening of his lips.Regret. Does he regret what this—whatever this is—has become? Does he regret me because of who my father is?
“Come on, you two! You will have plenty of time to talk on the back of the horse. Daylight is waning!” Mavros calls out, his usual grin plastered to his face as though he is only one sentence away from mischief.
“He’s right. Let's go, Shula. One more night of forgetting. Right?” My lips force a practiced smile, but the way his brows twitch down, I sense he knows it is fake, but I say the lie anyway.
“Of course. One more night of forgetting.
Chapter fifty-five
Astraea
Thedunesspreadoutas far as the eye can see, their golden color blanched like fossilized bones. The waning sun lights the sky in a blade of fire along the horizon, and above that, the dark night is already settling in. Kyros’ hand rests lightly at my hip, and when the horse stops near all the others, he leans in. His breath on the back of my neck sends a series of shivers through my body.
“You're sure you’re ok?” He whispers, and I nod. The ride to the dunes was mostly silent for both of us. I suppose I’m thinking about what is to come and what we have lost. The story Kyros told me of his loss brings up the pain of my own. Though it seems like he remembers everything, I have a different sort of pain withmy lack of memories. This is the first year since my father took the kingdom that I have not been in the palace for my birthday. I always dreaded the celebrations my father threw in my name. Even as a child, I knew that what he did was wrong. I could see that his celebrations were nothing more than a reminder of what he was capable of, rather than a celebration ofnew beginnings,as he often called it.
“I’m ok. Are you sure it's alright for me to be here?” I still feel like this is a celebration that I should not be welcome to. He hesitates just long enough that the question settles in my stomach.He doesn’t think I should be here.
“You are meant to be at my side.” His arms wrap around me in a backward hug, and I close my eyes as I allow his warmth to strengthen me, even if his words cause more questions to surface. Zinya wasn’t wrong about wearing a cloak; the sun is barely down and the cool summer air is already beginning to threaten a chill. “It's about time we make it down to the pyre. Let's go.” Kyros hops from the horse’s back and then reaches up to help me down next.
Even though it's been only days since we were last here, my legs seem to have forgotten how to walk in the soft sand. Kyros helps me through it as we make our way to the top of one of the dunes. The sound of people gathering, whispers mostly, carries from the other side like a breeze. When we finally crest the hill, just as the last rays of sun disappear along the horizon, multiple cloaked figures can be seen standing in a circle. They surround a wooden structure in the center of a large body of people. It appears we are some of the last to arrive.
As we walk forward, heads turn toward us and nod to Kyros and me as we pass. Each one reverent, parting ways and giving us an easy path to the inner ring, where the others are already sitting. They sit on throws and tapestries of all colors, which, though muted by the rising silver moon, are still beautiful.
“Who are they?” I ask, looking up at Kyros, who keeps his gaze held on the cloaked figure in the center.
“These are leaders of the Neer people, those thought to have the most powerful magick, besides that of the king.” Kyros says, and my brows stitch together in confusion.
“My father doesn’t have magick…” I say, looking back to the dark cloaks that are waving in the slight wind.
“Not your father. Thetrueking.” He says, and any questions I had about that died on my tongue when the drums begin, stealing away my attention. The slow, but powerful rhythm is mesmerizing, and when the pounding becomes strongest, a sudden flash of light—magick bursting into flame—becomes blinding. The torches in each of the Neer leaders' hands blaze, lighting their hooded figures in copper and gold and casting moving shadows of the deepest black across the opening where their faces are hidden. The fire keepers and their mocking display in the braziers back at the palace hold no semblance to the wonder of actually seeing true magick ignite.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Cole says as we join the group. It really is amazing and everything I have seen only brings up more questions as to why my father is so against the use of magick… She tangles her arm through mine and squeezes me slightly, pulling me from mythoughts. She looks up at Kyros, and so do I as I feel him tense at my side, looking forward. Taking a step away, he drops my hand, then his gaze sweeps back over his shoulder. He looks at me with pursed lips. The nostalgic man who was telling me of his childhood just moments ago is now long gone, and in his place is the broody man I have come to expect.
“I’ll be right back. Stay with Mavros.” He says gruffly, with no room for argument, before leaving me staring at his back. He walks up to one of the cloaked men in front of us with a torch and clasps arms with him in greeting. Murmurs start up all around us as heads turn to face Kyros. I notice now that he too is wearing a cloak similar to the other leaders. Mavros slings an arm around my shoulders and teases Cole with his fingers at her chin. Rearing back, she swats at his hand.
“Are you always a nuisance?” She asks, but with the gleam in her eye, I know she is just teasing back. A natural smile from undeniable happiness comes to my face seeing her at such ease. It’s almost enough to make me finally accept that we have—I have—made the right choice in being here with all of them. With Kyros.
“Today!” A voice echoes around us, calling attention to the center of the pyre. The pyre itself is intricately woven together like a basket and is taller than two men. Baubles and parchment hang from braided branches like gifts on a yule tree. “We gather in these sands that hold the ashes of our lost ones to celebrate their sacrifice and give guidance to those who have joined them. Those who have been felled by the cruel ways of a usurper, an illegitimate king who stole everything from our kingdom!” I feel myself shrinking underMavros’ arm, and he does too. He rubs my shoulder, smiling down at me with closed lips.
