Page 14 of Hunger in His Blood (Brides of the Kylorr #3)

CHAPTER 14

KALDUR

B y nightfall, I realized how futile it was to stay away from my kyrana , especially during the beginnings of the blood bond—when everything felt all the more punishing.

After the gardens, I’d filled the rest of my day with endless tasks in Vyaan. I’d met with the head builder, Jydar, of the South Road, even helping to haul blocks of rocks to burn off the surge of strength from the last feeding. I couldn’t go into the villages looking like this, but I knew that the builders wouldn’t ask questions. If Jydar had thought it was strange for a Kyzaire to do physical labor, he’d said nothing, taking the help freely, especially when I’d hauled three times as much as any of his workers.

Once my body had returned to its natural state, I’d gone into the village, burning through every meeting I had scheduled for the week early, whether it had been with the archives’ master or to approve a new recruiting batch of soldiers at the training grounds or with the heads of noble Houses, discussing the trade routes of the South Road or speaking about an off-planet connection to help with its expansion.

There’d been a few probing questions about trouble stirring across the seas, but I’d kept my smile quietly confident, assuring anyone who’d tried to bring up the subject that House Kaalium was handling it directly. It hadn’t satisfied everyone, however, and I’d realized that rumors would only grow. We would have to address it throughout our territories and soon. If I was experiencing it in Vyaan, my brothers surely were too.

With House Azola’s impending dinner party in a few days, I knew I would have to approach the conversations with even more care. Nearly every House would be in attendance.

Even after the sunset and my business in the village concluded, I had energy and frustration to burn. I flew over the forests and circled distant mountains, pumping my wings hard—anything to not return to the keep.

But I was dripping sweat by the time the moon had risen and the village had gone quiet. I finally returned to the keep, opting to take the long way, up different stairwells and down long hallways, to my wing. For the first time in a long time, I felt calm. I’d fed from my kyrana . I’d physically and mentally exhausted myself. It softened and assuaged the storm in me, an old friend that had been a constant companion for years .

So when I caught Erina’s scent the moment I alighted onto the South Wing, I followed it, giving into want instead of logic, though I might curse myself for it later. For years, I’d always done whatever I’d wanted. But as I’d grown older, as more and more responsibility had piled on my shoulders in Vyaan, in the Kaalium, I’d strived to be more like Kythel or Thaine. Disciplined and not so impulsive.

With Erina, I’d failed miserably on both accounts, especially this afternoon in the garden.

I found her in my private library. The door was slightly ajar, and when I pushed it open on its silent hinges, I saw the room bathed in golden light from the lit sconces. A Halo orb hovered over Erina’s shoulder, where she was sitting on the plush carpet, a variety of books spread out in front of her.

For a moment, I took advantage of her being oblivious to my presence. I studied her, feeling a tight knot in my chest release. The last bit of my resolve, I thought. At least for tonight.

She was dressed in the nightgown I’d seen her in when she’d come to my study. Light blue in color, in a material I knew was hard to come by, it suited her complexion well. Her hair was unbound and wildly beautiful, curtaining her face as she leaned to peer down at the books. A teacup was next to her, its content half-drained, seemingly forgotten. Her feet were bare, I saw, as she leaned over her collection of books to flip the page of one. Her features were pulled into a stern look of concentration and interest, one that struck me as adorable…and I’d never thought that about a female in my entire life.

A small wistful sigh escaped her. For once, she didn’t have her familiar notebook with her. A pencil wasn’t tucked into her hair. It was just her, her books, and her tea.

Finally I made myself known, stepping into the library. Her head slowly rose, her warm brown eyes appearing even darker. She was so expressive. I saw surprise and excitement first. Then I watched her try to hide it as tentative wariness replaced both.

She likes me, I couldn’t help but think. I couldn’t imagine why when I’d treated her so coldly.

“ Kyzaire, ” she said. My chest twisted with the word as I approached. “Good evening.”

“It’s well past midnight,” I informed her, my voice sounding as tired as I felt. “And please, there is no need for formality. Not anymore. You’ve called me by my true name before. I would prefer that you do when we are alone.”

If she was surprised that I sat down on the floor across from her, leaning my back against the chaise lounge, for once, it didn’t show.

“Are you all right?” she asked, concerned. “You look…”

She searched for the word, her voice quiet and serene. I had the urge to close my eyes, to listen to her speak, to fall asleep with the sound of her voice in my ears. That would be a restful sleep indeed.

“Tired?” I supplied.

She shook her head.

“Unguarded,” she decided on, watching me carefully to see if I would be offended by it.

My own brow quirked, not having expected that. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind,” she said, tucking a strand behind her ear shyly, her gaze fluttering down her books.

“No, tell me.”

“It’s like what we spoke about earlier,” she finally said, her tone soft and careful. “About hiding your emotions. Twisting words to make them something else than what you really mean. Only I’ve noticed you do it all the time. It’s a mask for you. It’s necessary. But right now, I don’t see it.”

I was struck briefly into silence. She dragged one of her knees up, hugging it with her arms, the silky material of her dress rippling like water.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

I shook my head, the edge of my lip quirking, looking down at the books she had out. “I’m just looking.”

I dragged one of them to me and flipped it around. I made a sound in the back of my throat. A book of fables.

“The dallia and the boy aren’t in there,” she informed me. “I checked.”

Nodding, I skimmed over the rest. Some were about art and drawing. One was on the history of the Kaalium, my own House, though it was written in the Kylorr language.

“Can you read this?” I asked curiously.

“Some,” she said. “Not all. I learned to read in the universal language but have picked up some Kylorrian over the years.”

That impressed me. Kylorrian was not easy to read in the slightest if you were not tutored in it from a young age .

Another book was on infrastructure design for an off-planet colony. But the one she was looking at currently was a book of paintings of alien places. Paintings of the Golden City of Luxiria. Of the waterfall world of Bvaro, which was mostly shrouded in mist. Of the bustling marketplaces of the Nikk colony, the brightly colored tents of the hundreds of vendor stalls.

There was even one done of the dense, lush jungles of Pe’ji…though I’d always skipped over it. Too many memories were there.

“My sister, Kalia, gave me that book as a gift,” I told Erina, watching her fingertip as it rested on the thick page. “It’s a very special book.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, jerking her hand back. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to?—”

“I didn’t mean that I didn’t want you looking at it. Here. Push over the Halo orb,” I told her. “I’ll show you.”

With curiosity, she did as I asked, the orb whirring quietly as it spun toward me. I snagged it, swiping my thumb against the sensor panel at the side, making it vibrate in my palm. Then I held it over the page of the book she’d turned to. It scanned it, reading the codes imbedded into the ink of the paintings.

It hummed. Then, suddenly, the landscape was spread out before us, a lifelike projection of the painting—the desolate yet beautiful wild lands of Dakkar, a place not many would ever see in their lifetime.

I could feel the palpable awe radiating off Erina as she scrambled to stand. I was forgotten, I realized, as I studied her face from my place on the floor. I smiled to myself, more intrigued to watch the appreciation flit across her features than imagine I was on a universally closed planet. If beings within the Four Quadrants thought Krynn was difficult to access, Dakkar was virtually impossible.

The pinpricks of light the Halo orb projected in front of her were true colors. The real magic of it, however, she hadn’t even experienced.

“Reach out and touch it,” I told her. Eagerly, she stepped forward.

The moment her fingertips met the image, it enveloped her, wrapping her up in a sphere of light. I could still see her through the transparency of it, but I knew she would only see Dakkar inside. I heard her gasp.

“I can see the sand blowing! Gods, I can feel the wind,” she called out loudly and excitedly. I chuckled then, her voice much too loud in the quietness of the library, but she must’ve felt like she had just been transported light years away.

She turned slowly, a complete sphere around her that would allow her to see in every direction, something the painting in the book hadn’t allowed.

There were closed slits on the back of her dress, ones I’d not noticed before, but now I realized she’d sewn them over carefully. The dress hadn’t always been hers—it had belonged to a Kylorr with wings. I wondered who. And why she had it.

I watched her through the projection. Watched as she turned, marveling and cataloguing every detail.

“I could stay in here forever. All the things I could draw,” she said quietly. I wondered if she meant for me to hear that. It seemed more like an observation for herself. “It’s beautiful.”

There was a strange tightness in my chest as I watched her. Such a simple thing, a simple code in the pages of a book, but I watched her eyes glitter with happiness and excitement.

“There are more, you know,” I called out. “Is there one you wanted to see?”

Her head poked through the projection, refocusing on me. “I want to see them all,” she said eagerly, her face split open in a wide grin.

“Very well,” I said, dragging the book closer to me and snagging the Halo orb .

The book was part of a series, and this one held only fifteen paintings. I started from the beginning—the Golden City of Luxiria, which immediately prompted, “On Raazos, it’s hot here,” from Erina. Next came one of the New Earth colonies, then a lake of fire on a planet in the Third Quadrant, then a transport hub in the Second, which she seemed to like the least. “Too industrial,” she’d decided, “and the smell makes my nose burn.”

“That would be cheap fuel exhaust,” I’d told her. It had a particular stench, one that felt like it was drilling a hole in your brain.

We went through them all—meadows that shone with glowing, flying insects the size of soul gems, of moonlit forests covered in pulsing blue vines, and the mountainous region on Balla during a meteor shower, which made her voice sound choked with tears when she’d proclaimed, “I’ve never seen anything lovelier in my whole life.”

When I turned to Pe’ji, I debated for a moment, but finally I had the Halo orb scan the code.

“Oh,” I heard her breathe.

I stared down at the painting, feeling some of my enjoyment of the evening lessen, but it felt…not so pinching. It didn’t ache as it usually did, and I found myself curious of what Erina would decide. She had fresh eyes and a fresh perspective.

“What a peaceful place,” she commented. “It’s so quiet.”

The irony, I thought. This painting and the recording had taken place shortly before the Pe’ji War, decades earlier. Before. Before everything that had happened to my aunt, Aina, her murder having been a raw ache in my family for years.

Now she was at peace…but it still hurt to remember what she must have felt in her final days on Pe’ji.

Quickly, I moved to the last page, of the waterfall city of Bvaro.

A small cry emanated from the sphere, a delighted little laugh that made my somber memories ease. I stood from my place on the floor, suddenly eager to stretch my legs and my wings. When I stepped into the scene with her, she was grinning, her hands held out as she felt the mist shroud her.

The landscape was at the terrace of the capital city. Bvaro was covered in water. Their floating cities were high above the waterfalls, and yet everything was enveloped in a fine mist. It would be hellish to live there, in my opinion, but the majority of their society and civilization were within their pristine glass domes. It was one of the wealthiest places in all the Four Quadrants, attracting only the elite for how difficult it was to secure residency.

Erina was looking over the terrace, her palms upward and out in front of her as mist danced all around. It dampened her hair, clinging to her dress. It felt good, cool against my hot skin. When she turned to see me there, she said, “This is incredible. Thank you for showing me.”

No one would’ve ever appreciated this like she has, I couldn’t help but think. At least, no one that I knew. This would’ve been a passing amusement for a noble before it was forgotten entirely. This book was a small thing, though rare. The Halo orb was even more common. To see the radiant joy on her features, however—so pure and so candidly honest—it filled me with contentment. I was glad she’d pulled down this particular book when I had hundreds in my library. Selfishly, I craved experiencing her happiness. I consumed it, pulling it into me like I was starved, just as I did her blood.

“You’re welcome,” I said. We were getting wetter by the moment. “Come. Dry off by the fire.”

I took her hand, and she let me pull her through the projection. I tapped the Halo orb on the way to the hearth, and the landscape disappeared, golden light appearing again as the device circled us, no evidence left behind of the mist.

I lit the fire quickly, and when it was crackling, I placed her beside it. Erina kneeled on the carpet, holding her hands up to the warmth. Not wanting to loom over her, I sat beside her.

She smiled at me as she said, “I would’ve never seen any of those places if you hadn’t showed me.”

“You don’t know that,” I told her. “You have long years ahead of you yet.”

“I doubt I’ll ever leave Krynn,” she said, but she didn’t sound too upset about the admission. “I suppose I prefer my adventures in stories.”

“Where’s the thrill in that?” I asked.

She frowned briefly. “I find stories perfectly thrilling. Whole worlds opened to you, even made-up ones. The possibilities are endless in stories. You’re not bound by time or money or connections or the logistics of travel or unromantic things like paperwork and applications. Anything can be made a reality. That’s why I like them. They’re magic. Just like those paintings.”

I’d never cared much for reading or stories, but I didn’t want to tell her that.

“Is that why you write your own?” I asked, remembering our conversation in the garden. “Why you fill your notebook with your ideas? Why you change endings of long-told fables older than yourself?”

“I’ll tell you a secret I learned long ago,” she said. I stilled, my breath catching at the words, at the tantalizing image she made, with her soft, playful smile and luminous eyes and damp skin. “Even when you think you have nothing, you are rich in imagination and more wealthy if you’re creative. That is the key to a happy, content life. At least I think so.”

A nice sentiment. A naive one, perhaps. And yet…

“For some,” I said gently. “Others have ambitions of more tangible wealth, of status, of power. You can’t deny that. People are inherently greedy, always wanting more.”

“I just wonder that if people dreamed more, maybe they wouldn’t need so much. ”

The fire crackled in the hearth. “Not everyone is gifted in their creativity as you, dallia .”

“That’s not true,” she said. “Creativity is a practice and an—an interest , not a gift.”

“I don’t have a creative thread in me,” I argued. “You should see me try to draw. Horrendous.”

“But it’s not always art or stories or crafting or painting,” she said, and I could see she felt strongly about this. The passion it sparked in her was what I found interesting. “It’s also ideas. The birth of an idea, like…breaking into your family vault and stealing your mother’s garden plans so that you could create something beautiful in her vision here. Or…finding ways to cut through the Vyaan Pass for the South Road without destroying the groves by the river.”

“You heard about that?” I asked, surprised.

She nodded, but it was shy. “Some of the keepers talked about it.”

I made a sound in the back of my throat.

“You solve problems,” she said. “That’s a form of creativity.”

I chuckled lowly. “When you put it like that, I am a very creative individual, then. You’ve convinced me.”

She laughed. The fire’s light illuminated her features, making her glow.

It was true I likely wouldn’t have looked at her twice if I’d seen her in passing…and yet seeing her now, unguarded in her satisfaction, her cheeks tinged with warmth, I found I couldn’t look away. And it had nothing to do with what was running in her veins and how it called to me.

When her laughter died down and she saw me observing her, she surprised me by not shying away. She met my eyes and let me look. She did the same to me, as if she was studying me. For long moments, we regarded one another, but it didn’t feel strange or uncomfortable. It felt like we had all the time in the world.

“Can I ask you something?” she began slowly .

Wariness pricked me, but I nodded.

“What’s changed since this afternoon? Because something has.”

“I’m tired,” I said. “I’m tired of fighting against this.”

“Against…me?”

I inclined my head, even though it wasn’t something I was certain I wanted her to know.

She frowned. “But I don’t want you to. If you’re worried about the feedings and the contract…”

“It’s not that.”

She wouldn’t understand. This went beyond contracts. And yet I refused to tell her the truth. The truth was powerful, and I didn’t know her enough yet to trust that she wouldn’t abuse her position. I couldn’t afford to tell her the truth, though I wasn’t certain how much longer I could hide it.

“What, then?” she asked. The only blessing was that she wasn’t a Kylorr. If she had been, she would’ve known the truth already.

I didn’t answer, only shaking my head. She went quiet, her brow furrowing as she regarded the fire.

“Do you regret what happened earlier?” I couldn’t help but ask. “During the feeding?”

Her cheeks tinged pink. “No,” she said quietly. “Do you?”

I blew out a rough breath. “I’m in a precarious position, Erina. You must see that.”

“Because you’re a Kyzaire and I’m…I was a keeper?”

“Yes,” I replied. “I’m very aware of the optics of it.”

“I don’t care what people think,” she said quietly. “ Most people,” she corrected when I shot her an expectant look. She hadn’t wanted the keepers to know, after all.

“I need to be careful,” I admitted. “If I’m cold to you, that’s why. I got carried away this afternoon. But it won’t happen again. It can’t.”

I thought we might’ve both heard the lie. Because the reality was that when I was feeding and she was in my arms, I thought we both lost ourselves a little. It was nearly impossible to resist.

“Even if I want it too?” came her quiet question. One that sparked desire and exquisite need.

“Especially because of that,” I answered, matching her nearly whispered tone. Though even I knew it was a losing battle. A countdown had already begun, silent but present.

“Do you plan to feed off others, then?” she asked. Based off the uncertain expression on her face, she didn’t know if she had the right to ask it.

But I read between the hesitation in her words.

“I ended the arrangement I had with Lydrasa of House Azola,” I told her, thinking it was one truth I could reveal.

“You did?” she asked, eyes widening.

I inclined my head. “You’ll be my sole blood giver.”

“Oh,” she whispered. She tucked back her hair. “I… All right.”

My lips quirked. “Is that all you’ll say? Most would gloat at having a Kyzaire caught within their grasp.”

Erina cocked her head to the side, her eyes straying to the fire, a look of puzzlement on her features.

“I think it’s the opposite,” she told me. She smiled, meeting my eyes. They glimmered in the firelight. “Because, Kyzaire , I find myself caught in yours . And I find that I like it. Very much.”