Khayrivven Falcrest couldn’t countthe times he’d sat in the small assembly room in the leadership building of the outpost at the foot of the Amrin Mountains—the mountains separating him from a home he hadn’t set foot in since childhood. He was also no stranger to the images Lenya’s astral projection could conjure for the Triad sitting with him, Ycken’s arms folded over his chest, face stony, Brunn’s lined face drawn in a blend of compassion and disdain as they watched the Flame-born ashling run for her life.
His pulse was a war drum, beating the rhythm to Lory’s demise as she sped, engulfed in flames,through the paths leading up the mountains without pausing to assess if anyone was chasing her.
When Solen Markis had sent that last lightning for her, Khayrivven had been ready to leap from his chair and bolt, dismissing any reprimands awaiting him for disobeying a direct order from the Triad.
Lenya had warned him that he’d make him kill Lory if he helped her in any way, but that was something Khayrivven would deal with if it came to it.
For now, his ass remained glued in the uncomfortable wooden chair with his name on it, across from Lenya, whose physical body sat straight and motionless while his projection flitted through the shadows in the mountains. Guardians, how Khayrivven wished that was a powerhepossessed.
From the first time he’d laid eyes on Elory Vednis in the streets of Dunai, when she’d been nothing more than a street rat whose brother had sent a golden spark flying, he’d felt that magnetic pull, like she was the anchor holding his world in place. He hadn’t wanted to believe it was more than the hunt for yet another fire wielder, another onelike him,whom he might protect under the guise of the hardass captain without ever needing to give the appearance of caring. Too many Flame-born died out there, executed on sight or after a joke of a trial designed for them to be convicted and killed.
He’d spent his days and nights searching for the Flame-born woman who seemed to be just the right age to fit the prophecy his father had made, and as he watched Lory grope her way through the rocky terrain, he could see her: thewoman with fire in her veins who might change the course of history.
Palms sweaty from holding himself in place by clutching the carved armrests way too hard, Khayrivven followed the orange and gold image of the woman he couldn’t live without.
If he could reach her… But he couldn’t force her into sleep, or Lenya would know it was him. He couldn’t distract her too long in a trance, or she might injure herself. All he could do was uselessly sit and watch how Lory fought her panic and the power consuming her, now that she’d lured it forth with the Almelyte powder.
Thank the Guardians, she’d remembered, or he’d have forgotten himself and bolted for her.
With a sideways glance at Ycken, he reassured himself the general’s blade was still in its sheath rather than directed at Khayrivven.
“Where is she going?” Brunn asked into the room. “It’s not like anyone is hunting her.”
Ycken growled. “It’s the magic. It’s consuming her the way it does all Flame-born.” The general’s black eyes landed on Khayrivven, and he scratched his short-cropped beard, pulling on the hay pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth. He didn’t need to remind Khayrivven that using his fire for anything other than to kill Ulder’s enemies would mean his death. He hadn’t as much as conjured a flicker of fire since the day they put that limitation on him—not a flicker, except for that unexpected flame when Lory had moaned beneath him and his control had slipped. He’d suppressed every other hint of fire surging to life inside of him,and all to protect his sister because, even if the Triad didn’t know the truth about Elina, they knew that Ulder had a particular interest in Khayrivven and that they needed to run decisions about the youngest captain in history by the king.
Not only the youngest captain in history, but Endry Falcrest’s son—Endry, the seer who’d ever made only one prophecy: the one about the woman who would choose between the heir of Criulias and the king on Brestolya’s throne and condemn one of the two to his downfall. But until then, Elory Vednis was his.
A pang of convoluted emotions ran through Khayrivven’s chest at the mere thought of Lory ever choosing anyone else.
He’d told Lory parts of the truth—only parts, because the full truth, he himself wasn’t ready to accept.
“Run, Lory,”he begged in his mind, not daring another break of his focus now that the Ycken’s attention rested upon him. To slip into a daydream for a few breaths without anyone noticing had become second nature for him, but under the scrutiny of the general, Khayrivven didn’t dare as much as consider trying. This was about Lory’s survival, and after Bellmont had sacrificed himself to save her, Riccalyn Graccia had found her end in Lory’s inferno, and out of the eight vicious attackers who had found her, there was no one left who could hurt the woman for whom his heart had burned since the beginning of time.
He’d never admit to it if anyone asked him, but Anees had seen right through him the day they dragged Lory from the brig and into the holding room at Ashthorn. The phantom had noticed before he’d admitted it to himself. And thenBellmont. He’d offered his help with protecting Lory after she’d saved him on that roof. He’d spilled his secret, his past as a Gargoyle, and admitted to killing more than one man for what they’d done to his sister—and Khayrivven had selfishly accepted his offer, sworn the man to secrecy, and paved his road to an early graduation and into the Ebon Unitifhe managed to fulfill all criteria.
Guardians, had he outperformed his wildest imaginations—and lost his life in the process. He would have made a fine, loyal assassin, just like Anees would when she took the oath after graduation.
Khayrivven stared at the image hovering over the table cutting the room in two halves.
“She’s running to the cave,” Brunn noted as if she found that to be a curious development. “I thought you’d warned her of caves.” Her gaze cut to Khayrivven, and his stomach tightened with dread.
It was unspoken knowledge that Brunn didn’t believe all Flame-born deserved to die; she was actually the reason the Triad had buckled under the weight of Khayrivven’s offer to vouch for Lory’s loyalty—a loyalty that condemned them both to a lifetime of service to the academy and Ulder. Then, nothing had changed for Khayrivven with Elina stuck at Ulder’s court for all eternity. He hadn’t seen her in forever, and yet, her blue eyes—the same as their father’s—were instantly there when he blinked his own shut for a breath. Her round cheeks and rosebud mouth. She’d been too small to remember she even had a brother or to know of the horrors that ended their parents, and a part of Khayrivven was glad aboutthat—that she didn’t worry about him the way he worried about her every day. That she was unaware her existence dictated the course of someone else’s life.
“Smart little fire spitter,” Ycken commented. “She’s running toward solid rock so the fire can’t spread any further.”
But something told Khayrivven that wasn’t what made Lory choose the wide cave mouth and climb up the jagged rock to where it gaped wide open like a monster ready to swallow up the center of his world. Despite the exhaustion that must have been eating at her, she remained on her feet as she stepped into the darkness, the corona of fire surrounding her bouncing off the obsidian walls. Khayrivven had felt them out there in the mountains during his countless nights of lying in wait for the Criu rebels. The shadows had followed him, had sung to him, had called to his fire—and he’d fought like a mad man to keep it in check so his unawares companions wouldn’t kill him for what he was. Maybe it had beenthembringing his powers forth after years of burying them under layers and layers of guilt. He’d been almost seven years old when his father was executed, and his mother right after she was forced to watch her husband being gutted. And Khayrivven hadn’t been able to do a thing about it. Not one single thing as his mother had handed him Elina before she’d walked into the last room she’d ever see, the baby girl bundled up in cream cotton embroidered with gold as was custom for Criu aristocracy, and sent him away.
Khayrivven had left the room, but he’d peeked through a hole in the wall, unable to believe what was happening, andthe king’s men caught him and took Elina away and stuffed him into the common army to serve as a bus boy and clean latrines and change the soldiers’ sheets every day.
Not the cave,he murmured in his mind, but she was in, and her flames kept burning like they knew she couldn’t survive without them—but if they continued to draw from her energy, they’d be the ones to kill her.
The shadow emerged from the back of the cave, its enormous form hatching from the darkness, a massive furry outline with two glowing eyes peering right at Lory.
He couldn’t get a clear view of it, and neither did Lenya, because he tore his eyes open, returning to his physical body with a jolt, nearly startling Khayrivven to death.
“What was that?” Ycken prompted as the image above the table vanished like haze dispersing on the wind.
Brunn was still staring at where burning Lory’s form had flickered a breath ago, her jaw working while Lenya reached for his sword.
