This mess with Maazin and the Thryki, of which I’d gotten nowhere. His trail had ended or was untraceable in Erzos.
The South Road construction. The protests within my own territory.
Twokyrivhad been seen flying north, just past the Three Guardians. Yesterday, I’d sent up a small band of soldiers to protect the villages in case the beasts got restless. It was nearing their mating season.
Loresowing season was nearly over. The seeds should’ve been planted last week, but the soil wasn’t ready, too compact and hard from the harsher winter. Every day that we delayed risked the potency of the crop come harvest season, which risked the value of it once we exported it. Millions of credits could be lost.
The impending betrothal to Lyris of House Arada…a decision that I knew was logical and sound, a decision that was best for not only Erzos but the entirety of the Kaalium.
The only thing I was enjoying was creating the plans for the new village along the South Road, which I would name after House Sorn—my mother’s House and Aina’s House. The plans had poured from me, the sketches and schematics of buildings—some old creations, some new—taking shape. I planned roads. A gathering square. A market. Shops. Homes. Fields for crops. A shrine for soul gems.
A small village for now, but one that would grow long after I was dead. The infrastructure would be there for inevitable growth. Waste management. Fresh water. Anakkium-power collector. Soldier barracks. It was a prime location along the new road. The potential was there.
The one thing I enjoy,I thought, sighing.
Well, Sorn Village and talking with Millie Seren. I enjoyed that too, even though I shouldn’t have.
The hour was late, but I was restless. I needed a distraction, or I would spiral. I’d been within these walls too long. My wings needed a stretch. And though I felt frustratingly guilty for doing it when so much work needed to be done, I left my office, stepping out onto the balcony terrace that jutted from my window.
That first lungful of crisp night air was like the first drag on alorepipe after a hellish day. It felt energizing.
I took to the sky, flying north. Flying toward RaanaDyaan, feeling the stroke of wind rush over the fine membranes of my wings.
I had no desire to go inside thedyaan. I didn’t care for blood or wine this night, and so I landed a short distance down the road, in front of a darkened shop, an apothecary. The road was quiet. Deserted at this late hour. Walking toward RaanaDyaan, I veered right, cutting down another alley until I came up the backside of the one Millie took her breaks in. But she wasn’t against her tree.
Yet…
I caught her scent, the pull of itmind numbing.She was here. She was—
“Sneaking around doesn’t suit you,Kyzaire,” came her voice, making me freeze.
She wasn’t in the alley. She was in the forest, in Stellara, at the front of RaanaDyaan. Sitting on a stump of a tree, likely one whose boughs had grown too large and posed a hazard to the road just in front of it.
I walked toward her, keeping my gaze locked to her form. Her spine was slumped. She had dark shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there before. And a series of scratches along her hands and arms.
She was puzzled when I slipped into the forest too.
“What’s that expression for?” I asked, inhaling her scent now that she was within arm’s reach. Venom flooded on my tongue, but I swallowed the thick sweetness down.
“I’m wondering why you keep coming here,” she replied.
I grunted. It was mortifying actually. And I didn’t want to talk about it.
“What are those from?” I asked, reaching forward to touch the scratches, forgetting myself.
She smiled, though it was tired, when my hand touched her flesh. She didn’t jerk or pull away. If anything, she welcomed the touch. Even seemed to savor it.
When I pulled away, she captured my fingers on the retreat, the movement surprisingly quick.
Her hand was cold. When she realized what she’d done, she let me go, a half-quirked smile of apology on her lips. It has been ages since someone had touched me so easily. When was the last time someone had?
I frowned, unable to remember.
But she mistook my frown for displeasure.
“I’m sorry,” she said, ducking her head. “Forgive me. I—”
“No,” I said, reaching forward to take her hand again. “It’s not that.”
