He paused, the note hovering just above the flame of the candle perched upon the desk.
“Count.”
Ilias did as he was told. He lowered the note over the fire and watched, counting, as the paper caught fire. Within thirty seconds, all that remained was ashes—the message she had written on the parchment forever a mystery.
“Thirty seconds.” He whispered.
Kaya’s teeth sunk into her lower lip, eyes going soft as he continued to stare at the fire. “That’s why, sometimes, history needs to be protected. Because it can be gone that quickly. And then, all of the pain and suffering of those that came before us would be for nothing.”
He looked at her with awe, licking his lips as she rose from the chair and walk towards the door. “Where are you going?” He asked.
Kaya looked over her shoulder, giving him a small smile and a wink. “I’m craving some blackberry jam. Want to come?”
?????????
“I need your help with something.”
Kaya jolted upright, hand falling to the knife on her hip as she turned to see Ilias standing over her. “Ineed you to stop sneaking up on me. You’re going to get one of us killed if you keep it up.”
Ilias snorted as he fell into the chair next to hers. “Hate to break it to you, princess, but you and that little pocket knife of yours won’t do much damage.”
“Who says it’s going to be the knife? My shadowy little friends are very protective of me. And one day, they might just—” He let out a grunt when she launched herself on top of him, landing directly in his lap. “Jump right out and grab you.”
Ilias wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush to his chest. “That’s the thing—Igrab back.” He squeezed her tightly, smiling as she thrashed and giggled against his grip. His embrace grew tighter and she wheezed before sinking her teeth into his arm.
He let out a yelp, releasing her immediately and watched as she clambered to her feet. She huffed, red-faced and eyes narrowed. It was adorable, honestly. That she thought that look terrified him like it did everyone else. But to him, she just looked—
“So damn childish.” He chuckled, shaking his head as if the act could clear his muddled thoughts.
The ache that formed in her chest dug deep, rooting its way to her stomach. Her arms fell limp at her sides. “What do you need my help with?” She asked.
“I’m going out to the old castle. There is something I’m looking for. I want you to come with me.”
“Why?” She forced a laugh. “Need someone to hold the map for you? I don’t see how I’d be much help in… well, whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m just looking for something. I don’t really need your help, but I would like for you to come with me.”
She eyed him for a moment, brow scrunching as she reached over and grabbed her satchel off of the library table. “Well, let’s get going. I need to get away from all these elves, anyway. They’refartoo serious and give me a headache.”
Ilias couldn’t argue with her on that. Ever since they arrived, the only people that were kind to either of them were what the Credulans liked to callLibrites.In reality, Librites were simply people with any drop offaeblood. He didn’t know if it was worse to be called halfblood or Librite, but both were said with such distaste that it enraged him all the same.
“Did you know about this male named Dagan Delanis?” Kaya asked, fumbling through her satchel. “I worked up the nerve to ask my tutor why Credula needed the Dark Bringer. She told me that Credula has been back and forth with Dagan and his most loyal subjects for centuries now—centuries.I’d read about the Wastelands of Bal’g and Grandor before, but I had no idea he posed such a threat.”
The muscle in Ilias’s jaw twitched, teeth clamping together. “Yes, I knew.” He sighed, eyeing her as she retrieved a map. Dagan was one of the people the Silver Guard was ordered to keep a watch on. Ilias had spies everywhere in Bal’g. Because Dagan was just as much a threat to Holiadon as he was Credula. “Funny, isn’t it? Power drives people to do the most unspeakable things. War after war, building kingdoms on blood-soaked lands, and they still want more. No matter how many lives are lost or how many are sacrificed for what they deem to be the greater good, they just keepfuckinggoing.”
“All that reading you’ve been doing is getting to you, isn’t it?” She laughed.
He frowned, scratching at his jaw. It was a horrible habit, really. He originally used his facial hair as a means to deter people from engaging in conversation with him. He found that it made him look intimidating, but he’d developed the habit of rubbing at it the moment he began to feel uncomfortable.Exposed. “It makes you passionate about things.”
Kaya nodded, stepping over a hollowed-out log. “Stories are an art. History is an art. They’re supposed to make you feel something—invoke emotions that you never realized you had.” She gave him a smile as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind the point of her ear. “I love telling children stories, you know? They are always so eager to listen. And with my gift, I can immerse them in the knowledge that I have obtained over all my years of study—passing on truths in the form of fairy-tales. My only hope is that they carry those stories and their lessons with them through their lives.”
He didn’t know what to say. All that he could do was stare at her, at the beauty of her face that seemingly glowed under the light of the moon. It was hard for him to believe that he had only come to know this female three months prior. Because now, looking at her, a brief and terrifying thought flickered through his mind. The thought—thefear—of ever having to go another day without her.
He didn’t want to.
But Ilias still stifled the thought, hid it under a veil of his own inner darkness and tried to wear the mask of a male that did not care. Even though he did. He cared so much more than he ever expected—cared so deeply that he was willing to go to such great lengths to protect her. He’d followed her into gods-damnedCredulajust to ensure that not a single one of those greasy, golden-haired bastards laid a hand on her.
As his thoughts grew more pestering and his motivation heightened, they continued their trek to the remains of what was once the home to QueenRydanthe. Just the outline of it was enough to send a chill down both their spines, locking them in place as they looked at the ruins of a palace that housed not one, but two of the greatest queens Galore had ever known. Rydanthe and her mother, Hyara, made it their mission to unite Galore. They were generous. They were fair. And now, all that was left of them was a crumbling structure that was being consumed by Cadaith’s green tresses.
