Page 44 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)

Gwyneira’s pale blue eyes widened as the fire cracked and snarled, devouring the bones with a hunger of its own. With a sudden, violent snap, fragments burst from the flames, ricocheting off the walls like shrapnel. The force of it made them all flinch.

Then came the scream.

It tore from Gwyneira’s throat with a ferocity that echoed around the small hunting lodge, shaking the very air.

Her twin lunged forward and caught her, wrapping her in a protective embrace as the room seemed to still, the fire crackling on in eerie silence.

Even the wind outside seemed to hold its breath.

Kage remained motionless, every muscle tense with unease.

At last, Gwyneira began to calm, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps, tears streaking down her ivory cheeks. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak.

‘I saw…’

‘Do we win?’ Bryn pressed, brows drawn, his voice hushed with dread and hope in equal measure.

Kage nearly reached for him. Something about the question felt wrong. This wasn’t magic, not truly. Bone reading was an old art, guided by instinct and tradition, and yet… even he could feel the heaviness in the air. Fate was not something to interrogate so carelessly.

‘How do we stop da witches, Gwyneira?’ Bryn asked, voice taut with urgency.

The girl only shook her head, a breath of sorrow escaping her lungs like smoke from a dying flame.

‘We don’t.’

Both Bryn and Kage froze. The words landed like frost in the pit of their stomachs.

‘What do ya mean?’ Bryn asked, voice cracking with disbelief.

Gwyneira lifted her eyes to them, and in that moment, Kage could have sworn she saw straight through him. Her gaze pierced like the edge of a blade, as though the ashes had whispered his secrets into her ears. Every sin, every shadow clinging to his soul… she had seen it all.

And still, the fire burnt.

‘Do we win?’ Bryn asked again, his brow creasing further in perplexity.

‘No,’ Gwyneira said, her voice soft as snowfall. Her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of truth. ‘But neither do da witches.’

Kage went utterly still, the frostbitten air around them forgotten as his dark gaze honed in on the young wolverian.

He studied every trace of emotion across her face, seeking the shape of prophecy in her silence.

He imagined raking the answers from her skin with clawed hands, desperate for clarity.

‘What do you mean?’ Kage asked, voice cool and sharp. ‘Either we win, or we don’t.’

‘No…’ Her eyes lifted to the ceiling, pupils dilating as though following a vision no one else could see. Her body quivered with some unspoken revelation.

Both Kage and Bryn followed her gaze, uncertain of what held her so rapt.

‘Da gods are coming,’ she whispered.

Kage opened his mouth to question her, but before the words could escape, Bryn was already pulling him to his feet, guiding him away from the smouldering fire and into the embrace of the biting cold.

As they trudged through the snow, Kage glanced down at the ring on his smallest finger, turning it absentmindedly.

His thoughts flitted to his scattered siblings.

He knew Kai was with Ash in the wyverian kingdom, steel drawn and battle-ready.

But Mal… Mal was a ghost in the wind, no word from her in weeks.

And Haven…he could not bear to summon the image of her.

‘What do ya think she meant?’ Bryn asked as the castle emerged from the trees, its modest outline carved against the pale horizon.

Kage had spent his life reading about the variances between the kingdoms, but to walk them, to breathe their differences…

He only wished the journey had been under gentler skies.

The wolverian stronghold was humble in every sense, rough-hewn stone and sloped rooftops layered with frost. There was no grandeur here, no shining towers or delicate tapestries, only resilience built into every timber.

Wolverians placed little worth in luxuries; their riches were woven into kinship and custom.

And for that, Kage could not help but admire them .

‘Me sista Gwyneira’s been reading da bones eva since our ma passed,’ Bryn explained as they stepped back into the warmth of the hearth-lit hall. ‘She’s neva been wrong.’

‘There’s a first time for everything,’ Kage muttered, slipping off his heavy coat and easing the tension from his shoulders. He glanced up at his crow, who had elected to stay nestled inside rather than venture out into the frost.

‘You can’t even feel the cold,’ he mumbled at the bird. Spirox let out a sharp caw, full of amusement.

‘What?’ Bryn asked, turning with a furrowed brow.

‘Nothing,’ Kage replied swiftly. ‘Just talking to myself.’

Bryn grinned. An easy, boyish smile that pulled something tight in Kage’s chest. The wyverian stilled for a heartbeat, his eyes catching on the curve of Bryn’s lips.

He hadn’t truly looked before, but now…now he was beginning to see.

Wren was beautiful, striking in ways she didn’t yet realise, but Bryn…

Bryn was something else entirely.

Kage cleared his throat and turned away, willing his thoughts into order, only to hear the teasing flap of wings behind him.

That damn crow.

‘I’d always wanted to see one,’ Bryn said softly, nodding towards the shadow crow as they made their way to the heart of the castle, where the great hearths burnt with their flames.

They sat, shoulders nearly brushing, and Kage couldn’t help but notice that Bryn had settled a fraction closer than usual.

If Kage reached out, he could easily trail a fingertip along the curve of Bryn’s arm.

‘You can keep this one, if you like,’ Kage muttered, casting a glance at the bird perched nearby. The creature tilted its head in quiet judgement, clearly unimpressed by the jest.

A servant appeared bearing tankards of icebroth and paused, gaping at Kage with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

‘They neva seem to get used to ya,’ Bryn said with a grin, lifting his drink. Foam clung to his upper lip, and Kage’s gaze snagged on it, an odd flutter beneath his ribs at the urge to reach over and brush it away.

‘It’s a curse... being this handsome,’ Kage deadpanned.

Bryn’s pale brows lifted in astonishment. ‘Was that a joke?’

Kage offered the slightest shrug.

‘I don’t think I’ve eva heard ya say anything remotely funny.’

‘I’m actually a very funny person,’ Kage replied, and the crow gave a caw so disapproving it might have been laughing at him. He waved a hand. ‘Ignore it.’

‘Yer funny?’ Bryn laughed, head thrown back, silver hair catching the firelight.

‘Jester of the family, believe it or not.’

Bryn roared with laughter, slapping the table as though it might help him breathe through the mirth. Kage bit the inside of his cheek, barely suppressing a smile. That laugh…gods, it warmed him more thoroughly than any fire ever had.

‘I imagined ya as many things, Kage Blackburn, but definitely not a jester.’

Kage took a sip of the icebroth, letting its chill settle the heat building inside him. ‘And what did you picture me as?’

The joy in Bryn’s face faltered, replaced by hesitation. Kage immediately regretted asking.

‘Oh, well… dark. Gloomy. A bit… rude, I suppose.’

Kage took another sip.

The crow flapped its wings once, as if in hearty agreement.

They both glanced at the bird, then at each other. Bryn burst into laughter again and this time, Kage let his smile show. The tension that clung to his bones melted away.

‘I suppose I can be a little stiff sometimes,’ Kage admitted .

‘A little?’ Bryn raised a brow. ‘Ya can’t be serious.’

‘Turns out I can.’

Bryn’s laughter returned, rich and unrestrained, and Kage found himself rubbing his chest, startled by how deeply it stirred something within him.

That feeling, like a note played on the perfect string, reminded him of the moments when he lost himself to his violin, when sound became emotion and the world ceased to exist.

And now, somehow, Bryn’s laugh was beginning to feel the same.

‘I'm sorry about your mother,’ Kage said, his fingertip tracing the rim of his tankard in slow, thoughtful circles.

‘And I'm sorry about yer sista,’ Bryn replied quietly.

The words landed like stones in his chest, their weight heavy and inescapable.

Kage froze. He longed to brush them away, to pretend they hadn’t been spoken aloud.

If he refused to acknowledge them, perhaps he could still pretend she wasn’t gone.

If he didn’t speak her name, then maybe, just maybe, Haven would still be waiting for him somewhere, humming in the corridors, teasing him in that way only she could.

Perhaps that was why he lingered in this frozen kingdom of wolves and whispered omens.

He couldn’t return to his own land, couldn’t face the truth.

Because if he did, if he stepped back into the halls of his home, he would be forced to wake from this fragile illusion, and the nightmare would be waiting.

‘I regret...’ Kage tried to swallow the words, but they caught in his throat like thorns. He could feel her beside him even now, shaking her head with that wry smile, warning him not to say it, not to name the grief. Because naming it would make it real.

‘I regret not spending more time with her,’ he said, voice hoarse. ‘The others did. Kai trained her, Mal took her riding. But Haven... she always found me in the library. She’d sit beside me for hours, no words. Just... reading. Just being.’

‘Ya didn’t need to speak,’ Bryn said gently. ‘Some loves don’t ask for words. They speak in silence, and that’s enough.’

‘Still, I feel guilty. For not doing more. For not being more.’

Bryn nodded slowly, his eyes glassy with a pain Kage recognised. ‘We all carry regrets. I didn’t save that boy. I let him die. And now I see him... everywhere. In shadows, behind doors. I did what me people demanded, but I betrayed me heart. And I’ll carry that shame until I meet death meself.’

There was little Kage could say to that, no salve for that kind of wound. Some things simply bled forever.

‘What do you think it means... that the gods are coming?’ he asked, seizing the opportunity to shift the tide of their talk.

Bryn shrugged, relief washing through his features. ‘I don’t know. But we’ll find out soon enough.’ His gaze lingered, those storm-blue eyes watching Kage too closely. ‘We’ll sound da horns for battle tomorrow.’

Bryn rose to his feet, hesitating, mouth parted slightly as if there were more to say.

Kage felt it too, that unspoken thing between them.

That magnetic ache. He wanted to reach out, to brush the braids from Bryn’s face, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath his palm.

He wanted to keep him close, to keep him safe. But he didn’t.

Instead, Kage looked away, his gaze drawn to the flames dancing in the hearth, fierce and flickering, as restless as the thing caged inside his chest.

‘We don’t deserve nice things,’ he said softly, curling his hands into fists, knuckles white with tension. He couldn’t look up, not with Bryn so near, yet so heartbreakingly far.

He had let his sister die. He had failed his family. He had failed his kingdom. And now, whatever kindness the gods might offer... he knew he was unworthy .

No matter how much he longed to reach for Bryn’s hand.

‘No,’ Bryn whispered, the words barely audible over the crackle of fire. ‘I suppose we do not.’