“You drank with Greer, Ulric, and Terror, didn’t you?” he asks.
I nod and heave again.
A warm chuckle arises from him. “I’ve warned you before to be careful when they hand you a drink. They tend to go at it hard.”
“That would’ve been a helpful reminder three hours ago,” I say, dropping to my ass and lowering my forehead to my knees.
Kyron dampens a washcloth and crouches in front of me. With gentle hands, he lifts my chin and wipes my mouth. “I would have if they invited me, but I got the distinct impression that I wasn’t welcome.”
“Every person at that table wished you were there. They wanted their friend and leader sitting with them. It’s the Stigian prince they don’t want around.”
Kyron flinches before letting out a long breath. “That’s something I can’t change.”
“No, it’s not.”
He gives me a tumbler of mouthwash and after I rinse the terrible taste from my mouth, he holds his hand out to me. “Let’s get you to bed.”
I clasp my fingers around his, letting him lead me to the bedroom that was once his. My breathing stops as he opens the door. I never had the chance to see his quarters when I was here before, let alone his bedroom. There was so much I didn’t get to learn about him before everything went sideways. Being placed in his old room meant I could have the chance to snoop around and gather new insight about him. It was something I plannedon doing in private. With him by my side, I’m having a change of heart.
My feet are slow to cross the threshold, and my gaze is hesitant to look around. I question if this was a good call, but I can’t fight my piquing curiosity the further I step inside.
The blanket on the mattress is black, and the bed can snuggly fit two. A chest of drawers and a single nightstand are simple and functional in design. For a moment, I think there isn’t much in the way of personal effects in the room. That is until the wall facing the bed catches my attention. Countless sheets of paper fill the space, a different charcoal or chalk rendering on each. Some depict tranquil landscapes and others are familiar faces.
“Did you draw these?” I ask.
Kyron moves behind me and helps lower my jacket from my arms. “Yes.”
“I didn’t know that you enjoyed drawing.”
He hangs my jacket on a hook behind the door and guides me to sit on the edge of the bed. “I had little time to dedicate to it, but when I found an extra moment, it helped to relieve some stress.”
My head pounds with the combination of drinking too much and spending minutes vomiting, but I can’t look away. A picture captures my attention, calling to me like a whisper.
I work through the pain to study every detail. The moment immortalized is one I will never forget. No amount of training or studying ancient tomes could erase it from my mind. My image stands on a rock in the middle of the stream, swirls of shadows curl around my hands and fans out to the dark figure standing across from me. Kyron. All the particulars of his features are hidden in the dark tendrils of his gift, while I’m shaded in color as I control his power.
He was so in awe of my “gift” when he first pushed me to use it. I can still hear his voice in my head urging me to take more. He refused to let me live in the fear of taking too much or hurting him. I felt so strong, beautiful, and…
I look away from the drawing and lock my gaze on him. “Why did you do it? Tell me there was something more than wanting me to leave Stigian when you siphoned from me, Kyron.”
I wait for his answer with bated breath.
What he says next will define Kyron and me. It will either disintegrate the little trust I have in him into nothing or begin the process of refortifyingour relationship. We can rebuild something, even if it won’t be what it once was, or we crumble. The fragile pieces of us rests in his hands.
Kyron removes my boot, the hard sole thuds on the ground. He lifts his chin to meet my gaze with furrowed brows. Something akin to pain washes over the angles of his face. “What did you say?”
“The day I rescued my father, I told you to prove to me that you wanted to stay, and you chose to siphon my gift,” I slowly say, needing to bring him back to that pivotal moment.
He remains crouched at my feet and folds his hands between his knees. “First, let’s clarify what happened that day. It wasyouwho chose that I had to siphon from you to prove I wanted to stay in Stigian. I told you I didn’t want to do it, but you are so unbelievably stubborn and left me with no choice.”
Despite my throbbing head and faulty equilibrium, I tense at his words. My voice escapes my mouth louder than I intend as I say, “You could have said,you’re right, Raelle. I’m acting like an ass. Let’s work together to get your father away from my sadistic mother.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not diving down this rabbit hole with youagainwhile you’re drunk. I’ve explained my reasoning for doing things the way I did, and there’s no changing it.”
“Fine.” I kick off my remaining boot and yank back the covers.
If I hadn’t thrown up everything, including the lining of my stomach, I would vomit again. There’s no fixing this, no setting us on a path to heal. This is where our relationship teeters—on the cusp of broken trust and a mending that will strengthen our bond. It’s a balancing act that I don’t have the willpower to sustain. And I shouldn’t have to. I deserve better than this.
Kyron’s fingers circle my wrist, stopping me from climbing under the blankets. He pulls me back to sit in the middle of the bed while he remains kneeling. Bracing himself with his elbows on the mattress, like he is praying to the Statera for a restful night’s sleep, he says, “You asked me a question and I’m not done answering it.”
