Page 7 of Hunger in His Blood (Brides of the Kylorr #3)

CHAPTER 7

ERINA

S leep didn’t come, and my eyes felt hollowed out with tiredness when dawn eventually broke over Vyaan.

My answer was the same as it’d been the night before in Kaldur’s study. Because if it had been any other answer, I knew that I would regret it for the rest of my life.

An adventure of my own, I thought. Kavelyn wouldn’t flinch away from this. And while she would be exploring dangerous jungles on Noxily or attending glamorous parties to find clues for her next discovery, I knew that even she wouldn’t say no to a Kyzaire .

Especially one as magnetic as Kaldur of House Kaalium.

I shivered, remembering his eyes and the heat of his exhale over my skin as I dressed. I might’ve been tired from the lack of sleep, but I felt the currents of energy beneath my skin, buzzing and alive.

I touched the nape of my neck after I tied my apron into place, wondering where Kylorr preferred to feed from. I’d always heard it was a preference. From the neck, usually, or the wrist. But for more intimate pairings, I’d heard other, more intriguing things .

A shuddered breath escaped me. A world of possibility was laid before me. Answers to questions I’d only ever wondered about. Like a Halo orb of knowledge cupped in the palm of my hand, waiting to be explored.

I was terrified. Terrified but intensely curious.

I patted the pockets of my apron, making sure my notebook and pencils were in place. In the small mirror hanging on the wall, gilded in thin chipping gold, I brushed through my unruly hair before plaiting it neatly.

Out of habit, my hands reached for the nearly empty vial of perfume sitting on my dresser. I stared down at the lingering pool of fragrance. Luc’s parting gift to me. He’d told me that by the time it was gone, we would be reunited in Laras. Some days, years prior, I’d put a tad too much on, impatient to see him again, impatient for the vial to empty. Maybe, unconsciously, I’d never stopped.

Never hide your true scent from me again, Erina, Kaldur had ordered me last night.

I knew that Kylorr were more sensitive to fragrance—to all scents, truly—but I’d never imagined that I’d been offensively strong. I swallowed down the embarrassment as I replaced the vial, my heart giving a morose little beat because now I wondered if I would ever see it emptied. Leaving it behind felt like a small betrayal to Luc.

As I did any morning, I left my room after I dressed and made my way toward the kitchen. The keep was quiet at this hour, but I knew the kitchens would be alive with bustling activity.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt comforted. It was one of my favorite parts of the day, starting my mornings here. Handfuls of keepers were seated at the long table, hunched over their bowls of porridge and steaming cups of tea. Despite the earlier hour, they were chatting happily, jovial laughs sounding—especially from the weapons master, Zyn. His booming, deep laugh could shake the walls of the keep. If Zyn wasn’t laughing in the morning, the others knew to steer clear.

“Morning,” I chirped as I pulled the kitchen door shut behind me.

I got a chorus of replies as I made my way over to the stove where Saira was stirring a big pot of stew for the afternoon meal. The tantalizing scent of freshly baked bread filled my nostrils, and I tried to focus on that even as I saw a few stray looks shot my way. I heard the scratch of the table bench against stone as Velle rose.

Just as I plucked a thick, warm slice of bread off the serving tray—bread that was folded with syaan berries, my favorite—Velle was cornering me.

“ What happened last night? ” she demanded softly. Her eyes were alight with intrigue, sparkling with her curiosity. But I spied a sharp glint in them, in the slight downturning of her mouth. Suspicion. “I thought you’d never spoken to the Kyzaire before.”

“I hadn’t,” I said. I wondered how I should maneuver this. I couldn’t tell her the full truth. But she was my friend. I couldn’t lie about everything. “He, um, he called me into his study to tell me to wear less perfume in the keep.”

The half-truth was idiotic and unconvincing. Even I could see that realization flash over Velle’s features. She raised her brow sardonically. “The Kyzaire of Vyaan called you into his private study, late in the evening, to complain about your perfume?”

I felt heat wind its way up my neck. “Yes. And to apologize.”

“For what ?”

“The incident yesterday with the vase.”

Even though I’d yet to smother my slice of bread in sweet jam, I took a large bite, chewing slowly as Velle studied me. Why did I always feel like I was on the verge of getting scolded when she looked at me like that? Our friendship had never held the ease with which my friendship with Luc had, but Velle had taken me under her wing when I’d first arrived at the keep, and I would never forget that.

Velle waited until I swallowed the chunk and before I could take another bite—just now realizing how quiet it was in the kitchens—she opened her mouth and started to say, “That is the worst lie I’ve ever heard and?—”

The kitchen door swung open, and I’d never been more relieved by an interruption.

Until I saw that it was Maudoric, the Head Keeper, and the look on her face meant she was displeased. Very, very displeased. Her eyes scanned the kitchen before landing on me and Velle in the corner by the stove.

Please not me, I thought, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest. Maudoric was nowhere near as terrible and stern as Wrezaan had been where I’d grown up…but I could never shake the terror when anyone showed their displeasure toward me. It crawled up my spine and wrapped around me like a suffocating embrace. So I did anything I could not to tempt anyone’s ire.

“Erina,” Maudoric said in her low, unreadable tone.

My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. And yet I pasted on a bright smile that felt too wide on my face. “Yes, Head Keeper?”

“Come with me.”

Velle shot me another look, and I was certain my loud gulp echoed throughout the entire kitchen, as silent as it was save for the pot of simmering stew and crackling bread, fresh from the oven.

My legs felt wooden and hollow as I stumbled after Maudoric.

Her eyes scanned over me, starting at my worn boots before inspecting my too-big apron. When I reached her, she went through the kitchen door and I followed. Before it even closed, I heard the eruption of whispers and wanted to sink into the stone of the hallway, in a puddle at her feet .

She went far enough away until we were in a private alcove near one of the spiral stairwells that led up to a smaller library.

“The Kyzaire has requested your presence at his morning meal.”

My heart jolted. I had wondered when I’d see him again. I’d told him I would give him an answer today, but I hadn’t expected he would send for me first thing in the morning.

“He’s taking it on the garden terrace,” she said. “I’ll bring you to him.”

Though nerves began to rise, I realized what Maudoric had done for me. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, frowning.

“For not announcing that to everyone,” I replied quietly.

Maudoric tilted her chin back slightly. I’d always thought her a beautiful female. She was a Kylorr with light gray skin and perfectly symmetrical features, though they were all a bit too severe. The lines in her face had deepened even since I’d come to work at the keep a couple years ago. I’d sketched her once in pencil, though I’d always been too nervous to show her.

“It is the Kyzaire ’s business. And yours. Not the keepers’,” she told me, her tone clipped. She’d always disproved of the gossiping, though every House I’d ever worked in had taken part in it. It was natural. I knew that better than anyone.

But I also knew that Maudoric was loyal to House Kaalium. She’d worked in this keep longer than Kaldur had been appointed Kyzaire to the region. Of course his privacy would be paramount to her.

I said nothing else and followed Maudoric through the quiet keep. I was surprised that Kaldur was awake so early. I’d always assumed he slept into the afternoons, hearing rumors that he stayed up until dawn, whether it was due to his work or the bed partners whose company he kept.

The East Terrace was beautiful, situated toward the back of the keep, farthest from the sprawling towns of Vyaan and overlooking the magnificence of the House’s gardens. I knew that Kaldur kept a team of talented horticulturists at his disposal, to keep the grounds in perfect condition, which had always surprised me. Until I’d learned from other keepers that his mother had been quite fond of plants and flowers, had kept the gardens of Laras meticulously. I always felt warm and fluttery when I remembered that.

I liked that he was close with his family. I liked that he kept his own gardens carefully in memory of his late mother.

It’s a testament to his character, I’d decided long ago. It was one of the reasons I admired him.

When I stepped foot on the East Terrace, a cool breeze swept through my hair, releasing a few wavy tendrils. I felt his gaze on me before I spotted him. He was standing at the far end of the terrace banister, made of cream-colored stone mixed with gray swirling lines, his wings resting comfortably at his sides. He’d been overlooking the gardens, watching as two horticulturists trimmed back a smattering of starwood blooms down below, readying them for the winter season. But he turned to watch me, those silver eyes shrewd as I approached the small table, set for two, after Maudoric gestured me forward.

“Thank you, Maudoric,” Kaldur said, the low timber of his voice in the early morning feeling like a sin. He strode toward me slowly, never looking away, and the graceful movement felt more like a prowl. I bit my tongue, the sharp pain giving me something to focus on as I tried to calm my racing heart.

Maudoric faded from the terrace silently. Kaldur eyed my state of dress, and I was only slightly embarrassed to note that he was in a very expensive-looking vest—emerald in color with silver catches—over a light gray tunic, only a few shades darker than his skin. On a few of his fingers were silver rings, inlaid with black stones. His black pants were neatly pressed, and there wasn’t a single scuff on his shining boots .

He looked refreshed, not a single hair out of place, like he’d slept the entire night without tossing or turning once.

Where I was painfully aware that I looked as tired as I felt in my drab uniform, hidden by an even uglier apron that was two sizes too big for my frame, and half of my hair had already come loose from my braid.

“Were you worried I wouldn’t feed you when I asked you to join me for the morning meal?” came his question.

I blinked. I was still trying to get my bearings, still overwhelmed by the handsome portrait he made. The green was particularly eye-catching, and I couldn’t help but notice that it was a green similar in color to my prized vase—which, in the end, I hadn’t the courage to steal back to my rooms after I’d cleaned it up. Instead, I’d carefully placed the shards of pottery in an empty drawer until I steeled up my nerve.

“What?” I asked.

He gestured to my hand. When I looked down, much to my mortification, I saw the slice of bread I’d taken from the kitchens, one very obvious large bite taken out of it.

Despite my flaming blush, I said, “Oh, I’m quite hungry in the mornings. One can never be too careful or assume too much.”

Kaldur’s chuckle was low and gentle. My shoulders relaxed when I heard it, like the sound had the ability to unknot my tight muscles from my restless sleep.

“It would be rude of me not to feed my guest,” he said, gesturing forward, and my feet moved, as if solely controlled by him. His hand came to the small of my back, heat blooming from his touch. I was proud when I didn’t gasp, but I felt my knees shake when his head dipped low. He inhaled gently and then said, in a more intimate tone than I was prepared for, “You smell like Alara, zendra .”

I turned my head on impulse, surprised by the soft confession. Alara was the after realm to the Kylorr, their belief of heaven, where souls were at peace and reunited with their family. It was said to be a wondrous realm.

And he’d called me zendra . I’d only ever heard that sweet name murmured between couples in the villages as I passed them by. It meant “bloom,” and I’d always thought it romantic. And now it was directed at me , from Kaldur of all people, and I felt like quivering in sheer happiness.

I smiled, unable to keep it from sliding across my face. His eyes drifted over my lips, and I felt his hand slide, taking my wrist. He brought it up, and to my surprise, I watched him take a big bite from my bread, unexpected amusement bubbling up inside me.

“ Syaan berries,” he told me, his strong jaw flexing as he chewed, and I was positively mesmerized by it. When he was done, he flashed me a small smirk and added, “My favorite.”

“Mine too,” I informed him.

“I have them imported from my brother’s territory in Erzos. Only the best of them grow in Stellara. And once you’ve had the best, you cannot go back to something lesser.”

“Stellara?” I asked as he pulled my chair out and maneuvered me to sit down. His movements were practiced and sure, as if he guided women into chairs all day.

“Stellara Forest,” he told me, taking the seat opposite of me. “I take it you haven’t traveled beyond Vyaan much?”

“Not at all,” I replied, feeling a little shy to admit that. To someone like him.

“Were you born in the territory?” he asked, those eyes pinned on me.

“As far I know, yes,” I said. But I didn’t want to talk about how I’d grown up or where. His eyes narrowed slightly at my answer. Quickly, I said, “Vyaan is home. Though I’ve always wanted to see Laras one day.”

Kaldur studied me but let my obvious attempt to change subjects slide. I was no master conversationalist. I’d never needed to be. It made my head hurt and spin hearing some of the nobles talk, like every conversation was a careful puzzle, an intricate dance. I wondered if Kaldur expected that.

There was a steaming cup of tea in front of me. “Is this mine?” I asked.

His gaze never left mine as he inclined his head. I took the cup gently and brought it up to my lips, feeling panic begin to rise as the silence stretched. Kaldur seemed comfortable in it. In fact, it almost seemed like a test, a game.

“You want my answer,” I said when I replaced the cup, seeing no use in drawing this out needlessly.

“I do,” he replied without hesitation. “Though I had hoped to charm you a little more over our breakfast before I asked for it.”

Oh, he was all charm already. So different from last night. There had been an urgency and wildness in his gaze then. Something untamed that had had me shivering in place. His expression struck me as careful, his small smile part of his natural mask. It might have fooled someone else, but I’d studied his expression often and I’d found him the subject of my sketches more times than I would ever admit.

Luc had always told me to be careful of nobles. He said they used people to get what they wanted and they didn’t look back to see how they fared. His mother had been a mistress to a Kylorr male of a noble House, after all. And after his rejection of her, she’d withered away, becoming a shell…until Luc had been left an orphan. He’d never trusted nobles…even though he himself aspired to be wealthy like one.

I understood why. His drive and determination, which had always bordered on obsession.

What would Luc think of this situation? I couldn’t help but wonder. I was doing what his mother had done, lured in by a handsome noble from the greatest House in all of the Kaalium. What would become of me when he was decided he was done?

I shook myself from the fearful thoughts, feeling foolish. This was different, I reasoned. Just because Luc had warned me about situations like these, it didn’t mean mine would have the same outcome. It might have just the opposite one.

Kaldur wanted me. For reasons I might not have understood, but he did. My blood called to him, and I couldn’t ignore that. There was something here, something I needed to explore. An adventure of my own.

“My answer is yes,” I told him.

His pupils flared. He leaned forward slightly, the movement nearly imperceptible.

“Yes?” he asked.

With my heart beating up my throat, I affirmed, “Yes.”