She shrugs and takes another drink. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m happy. I’m also worried as shit about this war, hence the hefty helping of whiskey, but I am happy. My friends have my back. Every day I wake up to do a job I love. I’ve achieved all the goals I set for myself. I have no complaints. It’s a good life.”
I lean my head back against the wall and exhale. “You’re right. It is a good life...”
“But?”
“Nobut. It’s more of anand.”
“All right. And?” Greer says, rolling her wrist in a sign to continue.
“And then I found something more. Raelle makes everything better. When friends go home and the job is done, she’s the remaining good. I want to be a better me because of her. She deserves a man who adores her even in her worst moments. A king who treasures her so much that he wants to build a betterkingdom for her. I’m far from perfect, but I try every day because it means everything to know she’s proud to have me at her side.”
Greer is no stranger to my deepest feelings. She’s seen me at my worst, witnessed my heartache and shame. Not once has she judged me. She’s picked me up from the ground, offered me a listening ear, and kicked my ass. Even at its worst, my world was bearable because of her friendship.
Greer crawls across the floor and sits next to me. “If no one has told you, then let me. You are a good king, Ky. And Elle is lucky to have your heart. You don’t have to do anything more than be who you are.”
I wrap my arm around her and pull her into my side. She rests her head on my shoulder, the rouge hairs on the top of her head tickling my cheek. I don’t brush them away, instead I lean in closer. This is what I was searching for tonight. Someone to sit with me.
“I couldn’t have chosen a better best friend,” I whisper.
“Me either.”
We sit in the hallway until the orange hue of dawn sits low in the dark sky and the bottle of whiskey is half gone.
Twenty
RAELLE
The breeze blowing across the snow-capped mountains in the distance is relentless. It chills my cheeks and seeps through my gloves. Every time the sun peeks out from behind the rolling clouds I sigh, but my delight is always short-lived. My fingers tremble as I pull the hood of my cloak forward, searching for even the tiniest hint of warmth. It’s a futile attempt and really the least of my worries.
We’ve traveled for almost a full day and night. It was the middle of the night when we passed the border and entered Sibyl, and ever since, everyone has been on high alert. The jokes Ulric cracked early on in our journey have stopped. His blue eyes focus on the surrounding valley. The lack of trees and flat land make it easy to spot anything out of place. I suppose it’s the reason I catch his gaze drifting to Ashavee so often. The moment we stepped out of Pliris, she shifted into a sleek, black-spotted jaguar. With light steps, she prowls the path ahead of us with her nose close to the ground. Terro and Greer trade off taking the lead and watching the back of our small caravan. They keep thepummels of their swords exposed, prepared to unsheathe them in a split second. Their vigilance is admirable, but it is nothing compared to Kyron’s.
The intensity he emits can almost make up for the lack of sunshine. He appears relaxed, rolling a ball of flame through his ungloved fingers, but it’s just a guise. His eyes are in continuous motion, searching the landscape for anything out of place, and the casual play of fire in his hands is a weapon. Even Samson’s pace with Nortus is to keep him at my side. He also takes signals from Ashavee. Every time her ears perk up, he follows her line of sight, holding his breath until the lean muscles in her legs relax. I’ve never felt more protected.
While the others were disguising their trepidations with humor or keeping a watchful eye, I’ve remained lost in thoughts about the Cruel King’s Stone. The story has fascinated me since I first learned about it. Why would people risk their lives for something they had no proof existed? Were they all as desperate as we are? Or did they feel the same connection to the map that I do? I’d like to believe that they were driven by greed, and a stronger force is drawing me to the legend. It’s an encouraging thought. If the Statera had a hand in making me feel that way, maybe there is hope that everything will work out.
But if it doesn’t...
“You’ve been quiet.”
My thoughts disperse, vanishing into nothingness, and I snap my head in Kyron’s direction. “I’ve just been thinking. Well, more like worrying.”
“It’s going to work out, Raelle. We’re on the right path.”
He has never been the one to give into unproven possibilities. They’re too unpredictable and out of his control. He sees everything as a big picture. This action leads to this consequence with this outcome. I’m surprised to hear him so optimistic.
“I pray you’re right,” I say with a half-hearted smile.
He tilts his chin up, drawing my attention to the sky-high bell tower and the cluster of buildings ahead. I’m very familiar with the Sibyl capital. I spent months inside those walls training to kill my enemy, searching to break a bond, and praying that the Statera would numb my heartache. It’s a ridiculous notion now, but I was consumed by anger and hurt. My time at the Sibyl temple was just one stop in my journey back to Kyron.
An arm slides around my waist, and I yelp as I’m hoisted out of my saddle. “Sit,” Kyron commands, situating me in front of him. “Ulric, take her horse.”
Our friend doesn’t hesitate to grab Nortus’ reins.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Taking your mind off things for a minute.” He spurs Samson into a gallop until we’re several yards in front of the others.
“But we shouldn’t?—”
