ThatI had no answer for.
Instead, I took a deep breath.
“Thank you, Kythel.”
Those winter-sea eyes softened. He leaned his head back again, regarding me from a few feet away with a half-lidded gaze. “You’re most welcome, Millie.”
My belly went jittery. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms to dispel the goose bumps.
“Cold?” he asked.
“Yes,” I lied.
The small narrowing of his eyes told me he knew it too.
“What does aKyzaireof the Kaalium do all day?” I wondered, scooting closer to the fire. I wanted to hear his voice. The voice that made me feel like a puppet. “I’ve always wondered.”
“Too little of the things that actually matter and too much of the things that don’t,” he replied. “I spent today in my office reading export contracts, met with two noble families over a dispute of their lands’ borders, and then met with a group of builders for the South Road. We expect to begin construction soon.”
“I know a lot of the townsfolk aren’t happy about it,” I commented, shrugging a shoulder.
“They think the road is unnecessary given that, oh yes, we can merely fly the distance.”
Though his tone was even and careful, I still heard the bite. Me? I bit back a smile. I didn’t envy him.
I thought of the caravan that we’d taken to Erzos from the port. My back still ached in one place from all the jostling. My poor father had almost been ready to strap our trunks to his back and fly us the rest of the way.
“Supplies and goods still need to be transported,” I murmured. “And peoplewithoutwings, of which our numbers are growing. A road to Vyaan would be nice considering it’s the nearest travel port off-planet.”
“Many of Erzos’s citizens don’t see it that way,” he said.
“What would you want to do if you didn’t do this?” I wondered.
“Do what?” he asked, gaze pinned on me.
“Be aKyzaire.”
His wings rustled. “It’s a ridiculous game to play. I am aKyzaire, and I always will be.”
“Humor me.”
A sharp exhale. His gaze flitted around the cottage, taking in the ceiling beams of black wood and the large crack in the stone near the door. The floor was in good shape, however—a warm, beige-colored stone that looked gold in the firelight.
“I wanted to create buildings. Homes. Even entire cities,” he finally said.
“A builder?” I asked, surprised.
“No,” he said. “An architect. A creator. Despite my father’s wishes, when I was younger than you are now, I was training with an architect in Laras. Buildings and cities can outlast generations until they become a permanent place in history. Like great stories. Like great legends. Before Erzos passed to me, I wanted to travel throughout the Quadrants to see the great temples of the Bartu. The cathedrals of Hydroni. The undersea cellars of the Drovos. I wanted to explore the ruins of Old Earth. The sky kingdoms of the Ikkalu people. The gambling dens on Gharata, made to withstand the fiercest of storms. The Golden City of Luxiria, one of the oldest in our universe.”
My heartbeat seemed to match the soft rhythm of his unexpected words.
“How many of those places have you been to?” he wondered.
“Most of them,” I admitted softly. “Though not Old Earth. Or Ikka.”
The fire popped in the hearth.
“The Golden City is breathtaking,” I told him. “We thought about living there permanently after my father’s contract ran out. Because it’s one of the few places that won’t bat an eye at a Kylorranda human. Luxirians share ancestry with humans. Many of my kind live there or are hybrids.”
