Page 14

AREK

T he kitchen is warm, coals in the hearth easily brought back to a roaring fire with the addition of a few logs. It crackles and pops as I stoke it, considering how to tell Kyrie all I know.

She sits quietly at the long scarred table, her legs folded underneath her. Red hair glistens in the firelight, gilded by the flame, spilling around her like a living thing.

“Stop stalling,” she demands.

It’s such a familiar tone, so like her, that I almost smile. “Food first.”

“Food won’t change anything.”

“It might make you less angry.” I raise an eyebrow at her.

She harrumphs, glancing away. Stubborn, beautiful woman.

I gather a plate of things I think she’ll like, namely, cheese and bread, and set them before her.

She stares at me with her wide green eyes.

“Eat,” I tell her, bracing my hands on the wooden table, my knuckles whitening as I grip the edge.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Ever the pretty little liar,” I manage, and the phrase cuts like glass against my throat.

Shooting me a dark look, Kyrie tears a piece of the fluffy white bread off and shoves it in her mouth.

“Tell me,” she says, the words garbled. “Now.”

I cross my arms, sighing, because I know I have to.

“I wasn’t always the god of death.”

“No shit,” she says, and crumbs fly from her mouth and across the table. “Oops.”

A piece of cheese joins the bread in her mouth, and some of the tension leaves my body at the sight of her eating.

“You are young, so young, Kyrie, but I am not, and our story doesn’t begin in your lifetime.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re old.”

“Kyrie,” I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my eyes in both exasperation and amusement.

She narrows her eyes at me, the challenge in them clear. “Sorry to interrupt your senile ramblings, old man. Continue.”

I hide a smile, turning from her.

That’s my Kyrie. That’s the fire I want from her.

“I was a Fae warrior, yes, but it wasn’t until Sola moved, consolidating power, that I grew into mine. The prophecy, the one about you and me…” I close my eyes, emotion threatening to choke off my words. “I thought it was about Sola and me.”

I glance at her over my shoulder, wishing I could tell her this while she was wrapped in my arms.

As if she would let me.

“The prophecy was a riddle, as most prophecies are.” I let out a soft laugh. “It followed me from adolescence to adulthood. I was the son of a king, from the bloodline that had spilled more Fae blood than any other. Sola was—is—the daughter of another king. We’d been at war for centuries by the time I was born.”

The only sign she’s listening is that she takes another bite when I pause, at the natural lull in my narrative. I try to force the words out, the words I’ve kept from her for too long.

“What was the prophecy?” she finally asks, steeling her gaze as she takes me in.

“Blood binds to blood, enemies will be united in truth. She of gilded tongue and he of death, of draught and sacrifice. Idols overturned, time resumes, only then shall order be restored.”

“That prophency’s as shitty as your name.” Her green eyes dart towards mine. “The hairball one. Arek is fine . But you’ll always be the Sword to me.”

“Just fine?” I press, but she doesn’t smile.

I stare into the fire instead, as if it can burn away the memory of driving the dagger into her skin.

“It is a shitty prophecy.”

“They thought I was of death, because it was my father’s emblem.”

“They weren’t wrong,” Kyrie says, tearing another hunk of bread off, chewing thoughtfully.

“They weren’t.” Another humorless laugh. “But she of gilded tongue wasn’t Sola. Everyone knew Sola was gifted at court machinations, at the sort of deceit she now prizes in her followers. But she didn’t have power in that way, Kyrie.” I narrow my eyes at her.

“She is the goddess of lies and chaos.” She snorts, crossing her arms over her chest, abandoning the plate in front of her.

“Her entire existence was a lie. She has some power, yes, but that is not hers. She lied about that, she lied about all of it. It wasn’t her power until humans, mortals, began to worship her as the goddess they thought she already was.”

I close my eyes, painful memories sweeping through me. “Sola and her minions knew the prophecy. Sola knew it wasn’t about her. She knew she could manipulate me to make me think so. The siege on my lands, the bloodshed of my people?—”

Even now, all these centuries later, guilt threatens to bring me to my knees.

“We were betrothed. I didn’t want her, didn’t like her, couldn’t stand the idea of her being my wife, being the solution the Fae so desperately needed. I considered it my duty.” I shake my head, disgusted at myself. Still. “The night before we were to be wed, my scouts sent word. A force had amassed not a half-day’s ride from my people’s crown jewel, a peaceful city. A city of artists, not a strategic stronghold nor the seat of my power, but one that was near and dear to all our hearts. A force so large that it could only mean one thing: they meant to wipe them out completely.”

I take a deep breath, aware of Kyrie’s eyes on me, aware of the slight crease at the corner of her eyes, of the way she’s holding her breath.

“They said it was Sola’s force, that she was not headed to my castle, as planned, but was at the gates of the place where my mother raised me, with my cousins and aunts and uncles.”

“Gods,” Kyrie’s voice is a whisper.

“We rode through the night, but it was almost too late. By the time we arrived, they’d sacked most of the city. There were no soldiers there. It was a bloodbath.”

I pause, the stench of corpses and smoke filling the air of my memories.

“I was too late to save those who were innocent. My soldiers helped as many as we could escape through a mountain pass and into Hrak. That’s how I got this name, coincidentally. It’s also how I came into my powers. What I did… What I did to protect them, Kyrie, I would do it again.” I bite off the words, glancing up at her.

Her green eyes are wide, luminous emeralds that show every emotion I’m repressing.

“It sickens me,” I finally say, scrubbing a palm down my face. “I tapped into power I always feared, and I reanimated the dead. What I did was beyond anything anyone had ever seen, it was beyond war—it was wrong. I took the bodies of those who had died, resurrected them, and I set them upon her forces. It nearly killed me.”

All of it. The cost of using that kind of magic. The cost of seeing what I’d wrought nearly tore my soul in two.

I hang my head, lost in the savage, brutal memories of that day.

A small, cold hand rests on my shoulder, and I look up into Kyrie’s face, so real, so perfect, that it cracks my heart wide open.

“Tarron wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t,” she tells me, long lashes fluttering as she takes my hand in hers. “None of them would.”

“I am a monster, Kyrie.”

“You are the monster that saved your people.” She tilts her head. “You are a monster that would do it again, if you had to, to save them. I don’t think that makes you monstrous at all.”

I stare at her for a long moment, warring with myself, knowing if I move too quickly, she’ll run, that I might lose her again.

“I would do it again,” I rasp. “I would do it for you alone, now. I’m more monstrous now than I ever was.”

Something feral shines in her eyes, and I lose the last bit of self-control I have.

My arms go to her waist, and she lifts her chin slightly, a challenge in the curve of her lips.

“Show me how monstrous you can be, then, Sword.”

It’s not my name, not my real name, but it sends me over the edge all the same. My mouth crashes against hers, so full of need I might die of it.