Page 23 of Of Nightmares & Fire (Elusive Umbra #1)

Chapter twenty-one

Astraea

Stepping out into the dark hallway, Kyros is standing with his back pressed to the opposite wall, his foot propped up behind him.

He’s dressed now in black, head to toe, just like at the tavern, which casts his figure that much more into the shadows.

If I weren’t looking for him, I likely wouldn’t have even seen him at all.

“I’m surprised you came to fetch me yourself,” I say, stopping in the middle of the hall, where he doesn’t move, his arms still crossed over his wide chest.

“Why would I send someone else? Aren’t you supposed to have dinner with me?” He asks, pushing off the wall. When he offers me his arm, I look down at it with a quirked brow.

“Are we being chivalrous now that you know I’m a princess?”

“I think you’re mistaken. I recall being very chivalrous when I saved you from losing your hands in the market,” he says, then leans closer and whispers, “And that's when I was led to believe you were just a mere commoner.” I snort and anxiously look around, hoping that none of the shadows my father employs heard any of that statement. I start walking in the direction of the dining hall without taking his offer, and he growls as he follows close behind me. Good, I hope he’s annoyed.

“I was never going to lose my hands. It was all a misunderstanding. I would have gotten out of it myself.” I chance a look out of the corner of my eye when Kyros easily catches up to me and takes a slow stride to stay at my side.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He almost laughs, and I quicken my steps with a huff, but then his hand reaches out and wraps around my arm at the crook of my elbow. I wince at the placement. The bruises my father left behind scream, and I hope he doesn't notice.

“Wait, look—” He pleads, and I stop abruptly, whirling on him.

If we are seen having a heated conversation like this, it will give away the fact that we are familiar with one another to some level, and that will get back to my father, which won’t be good for either of us.

I look around, and Kyros’ nostrils flare, and even in the dark I see his pupils, black on black, dilate. His breathing quickens just a fraction.

“What is that smell on you?” He asks, and I screw up my face in vexation .

“Excuse me?” I grind out between my teeth, yanking my arm free of his hold.

Shit. Shit. Shit . Does he smell the balm?

I thought the scent was fairly light, but perhaps it’s not.

Does he know what it is? If so, wouldn’t that mean he is a magick sympathizer?

Or could he have magick like Pravin said… What was it about his tattoos?

“Nevermind, but we are going to the terrace off the library. Not the formal dining hall.” Kyros announces, dismissing my question. My eyes jump to his.

“We are?” I question, looking around more cautiously. “Why?”

“I requested it. I thought it might give us a little more privacy than the formal dining room could provide. They should be done setting it up now.” My brow furrows as I look at him.

“Um, ok…” Turning on my heel, I head for the stairs that lead down to the lower level. The library is located almost directly below my bedchamber. It’s one of the many places I would sneak off to through the passages within the walls.

My father almost never came into the library.

He says, ‘History is where it belongs. In the past.’ Just the thought makes me roll my eyes.

If we don’t learn from history, we will be stuck making the same mistakes over and over again, but that’s one of the many areas we are different.

He doesn’t, and never has, cared about changing anything.

Other than the weight of the coin he owns and the ability to rule over those with less, he has no interest. The only way he knows how to rule is to instill fear into the people he leads.

If they fear the world around them or what will happen if they embrace it, he can control them better than by just telling them what to do .

Kyros stays close the entire walk, silently at my side.

He is an enigma. Most men in his position would be falling over themselves for my attention…

for my favor, but not him. However, I can feel his eyes on me at every chance.

Any time I look away, I feel his gaze drift back to me, and it makes me curious, if not annoyed.

“Why are you here?” I ask the same question I did in the tavern, and he huffs out an unimpressed laugh, staying silent, and I roll my eyes.

When we reach the doors to the library, there are no guards standing at its entrance.

Guarding knowledge is not important to my father, so why would he waste men on its doors?

Kyros opens the door and gestures me inside.

The library is dark; not one flick of firelight to see by.

It’s an enormous space, so the light that does come in doesn’t reach much.

The previous ruler clearly had a love for books.

Sometimes I imagined that he was my father and many of the beautiful spaces he created within these castle walls were made for me to enjoy.

Building scenarios in my head to make the honesty of my life more bearable.

The far wall is tall, with a beautiful stained glass mural of a king in battle with a beast. His sword is dripping in blood, and the manticore’s mane is just as blood-coated and matted.

It’s beautiful and deadly. It makes me think of the man who I’ve come here with.

He too seems lost looking at the beauty of it as the moon lights the panels in a muted multitude of colors.

“You know there are two stories about the battle the king fought with the beast?” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks for a moment.

I can barely see him through the muted colorful light that shines through the colored panels.

“One about the king that had to fight the beast. A battle to the death after also winning the first war against the kingdom.” He looks down at me, just briefly, before continuing.

“The other story is that the manticore chose to fight alongside him.

Helping him win a battle he otherwise wouldn't have. He risked everything by choosing to trust a monster who could have ended everything because he sensed something in the beast that was no different than what was in him.” He scoffs; the sound is small and laced with something, but he turns, facing me once more.

“Either way, it was the gods proving him worthy of the crown, don't you think?”

I'm not sure what to say to this. I agree, but to say so would be admitting I think that my father is not worthy. I would be admitting that the title of Princess should not be mine. Instead, I say nothing, and he eventually begins walking again. I look back over my shoulder as I follow. At the dance of fury the man and beast seem to be in. I can easily see the way both of those stories align with the art. I can easily see that what I didn’t admit is true.

I lose my sure footing in the dark. While I’ve come here many times, the deep darkness and the moonlight filtered through the heavy drapes along the terrace make it difficult to navigate.

The only light comes from the colored tiles of the stained glass.

I don’t trust myself to not fall on my face, so I slow my pace.

“Would you please just take my arm? I would like to get on with this before the morning.” Kyros grumbles at my side, and reluctantly I reach for him. When my fingers find his arm and he covers my hand with his, heat floods my cheeks, and for once I am grateful for the dark.

“How is it you can guide me through this dark library, but I have grown up here and would still end up knocking over a priceless artifact?” I question out loud, and I swear I feel him chuckle, but he says nothing. Before I know it, we are coming to a stop at the archway that leads to the terrace.

“After you,” he says, pulling the heavy curtain back.

I step through the exit and onto the terrace that I have sat on many times over, but somehow, tonight, it feels bigger, like I am tiny in comparison to this moment in time.

The deep indigo sky is dotted with twinkling stars, and the swirls of light trapped between them give the perfect backdrop to the table in the middle of the balcony set for two, with a single candle burning in the center.

It’s romantic even. My brows furrow. Romance is not something I came to expect from this whole endeavor, but maybe that was because my father only ever treated it as a business transaction, something that I was meant to do regardless of my thoughts.

I swallow as Kyros comes to stand next to me, and our arms barely brush.

I cross mine over my chest and rub my exposed skin with my hands, feeling a little uncomfortable with my thoughts.

“If it’s too much, we don’t have to do this.” He says quietly, but I shake my head.

“It’s—it’s not too much. It’s just unexpected .” I manage to say.

“Are we not meant to be courting?” He questions, and I turn to face him .

“I just,” my voice gets caught in my throat.

His eyes are nearly all black, like the glittering black blade of Tsalalerian Steel, and they seem to see further into my mind than any other man has cared to look.

This is dangerous. I can’t let his stupid pretty face cloud the fact that all of these men are the same.

They signed up to be here to marry me— for power .

Each and every one of them has an ulterior motive.

This is likely the first of many courting dinners with winners from the games my father has planned for these men.

“What are you thinking?” I jump at the sound of his voice.