Page 56 of Of Nightmares & Fire (Elusive Umbra #1)

Chapter forty-four

Kyros

The portal snaps shut behind me, and the sound of it echoes through the wooded clearing I stand in.

Overhead, the moon flickers through the lazy passing clouds and illuminates the forest through dancing shards of silver light.

Deep green, black, and gray swim around me, and the darkness in me stirs.

I was going to send Drabek with a scroll, but I needed the reminder of who I am.

I needed the reminder of what the mission is.

I hear the croaking call before I see him.

Drabek drops from one of the tall trees and lands on my shoulder.

He chuffs, fluffing up his feathers before settling as I begin walking the hollowed path through the forest. Every step through the thick vines and twisted branches brings me closer to the reality that has been mine for the last fifteen years.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a piece of dried meat that I keep just for him and offer it.

His beak clicks as he swallows the small treat down, and his chest vibrates with happiness like a purr.

“Make yourself scarce for a bit. Things could go awry after this conversation.” I tell the bird, keeping my eyes on the tunnel of trees that begins opening up in front of us.

When we reach the opening, the castle spires reach toward the night-lit, star-streaked sky like thorns on a poisonous plant.

Windows all along this side are lit with the light from roaring hearths that warm the cold castle.

At night, its presence is ominous and foreboding, like the moon revealing the wickedness within.

Even if, when the sun rises and the sky is painted with the bright colors of day, the castle is an enchanting masterpiece.

An apparition of beauty, just like the queen inside.

Drabek caws mournfully before launching into the sky toward the castle.

It doesn’t take long to reach the village below the castle carved into the mountain.

All the doors are closed, the shutters pulled tight.

Not a soul to be seen. Even if Diemos is not my true home, the people here are just as much mine as I am theirs.

A part of me misses being here. I take one of the tunnels that lead to the lower entrance to the castle.

One that not many know about, and even fewer dare to use.

Magick pulses around me as I step over a boundary line.

As soon as I do, a mage light flashes brightly in the narrow underground breezeway.

Two men stand sentinel with their polearms erected .

“Stand aside.” I demand without slowing my gait, and both of their eyes widen as I emerge from the shadows.

“Lord Kyros, apologies, we weren’t expecting you.

” One says opening a side of the heavy gate leading to the lower levels beneath the castle.

The other scrambles to wrench open his side too, and I don’t respond or even look at them as I stride inside.

Another man is sitting when I enter; he jumps to his feet, brushing crumbs from his rounded belly and wiping his hand down his beard.

He coughs, choking on the bread that he was shoving in his face.

“Lord—Kyros.” His eyes fall to the ground.

“Announce me to the queen.” My voice reverberates through the passage and makes the flames of the firelight flicker and dance.

When his eyes finally raise, they are wide and terrified.

My reputation here, within these walls, is much different than beyond.

One of the many versions of myself I must maintain, as I’ve been taught.

“Of course, my lord.” He scrambles ahead of me, and I follow on with a clipped stride.

He takes the wide stairway that leads to the main castle and clears his throat as he pulls the door open.

“Lord Kyros Kazahl,” he calls out. I don’t wait for permission to enter, and he blanches before pulling the door shut with a resounding slam.

Her back is to me; her long golden hair brushes the top of her hips, and the thin rose silk robe she has herself wrapped in reveals the apple-like shape of her ass.

It dusts the floor, making her already long legs appear endless.

She feeds the white Creshian raven kept in a large gilded cage in front of the two-panel corner window.

She titters and chides, talking to Zuri.

The magickal creature snaps her opal-like beak, not careful to avoid her slender fingers.

“I think she is finally warming to me.” Her ethereal voice carries over the space between us easily through the pristine room.

Zuri has not warmed to anyone since we came to Diemos, least of all the queen.

The female raven is wrathful in her misery.

She lets out a cry when Drabek lands on the perch the queen had placed on the other side of the thick window.

The two are mates, and though Queen Phaedra knows this, she refuses to allow them together until Zuri accepts her.

Zuri will only ever accept the queen of my choosing as the rightful king of the land she was born to.

Queen Phaedra turns finally, bored with the bird’s heartache and petulance. Her blue eyes are dark as midnight. The fire in the hearth on the opposite wall reflects like stars when she looks at me. Her rosy pink lips curl slowly into a smile as she surveys me.

“My dark prince,” She breathes, stepping forward so the glow of the fire fully illuminates her face.

“I assume since you are here alone, you have news of the relic for me?” She says, toying with the nearly open front of her robe.

Her smile widens when she notices that my gaze is drawn to the movement of her fingers.

“The king kept the relic in the castle all these years, just as we suspected.” I reply, letting my eyes lazily trail up her thin figure.

She loves being adored. Though half of her body is covered in scars, she holds herself in the highest regard.

The scars are not a burden to her in the least bit, but rather an adornment she wears with pride.

It seems the sentiment toward them is one of strength, but those who know the woman for who she really is know that what is grotesque isn’t the marred skin on her body; it is the blackened heart within.

She glides across the white marble floor silently, circling me where I stand.

My shadows still, coiled tight, ready to leap from my skin at any moment; I urge them to freeze instead.

Her light pink painted nails brush along my chest and from my shoulder down my arm, hesitating before hovering above the Tsalalerian steel sword.

“You seem tense .” She tuts, tilting her head and letting her hand continue its trailing as she walks behind me.

The sharp point of her nails sends a chill down my spine as she slides them across my shoulders and then rests her hand flat over my heart after she is done with her circle.

I take even breaths, showing nothing when I answer.

“You would be too, in the presence of the false king.” I say. The idea pleases her. She pats my chest before spinning away with a clap.

“Yes, I suppose you are right. Is he as dreadful as they say?” She asks as she lounges on the chaise in front of the fire. “And the daughter? Did Mavros break her spirit and her virtue?” She smiles wickedly while biting into a plump strawberry she plucked from the stand at her side.

“Actually, that is what I’ve come to warn you about.

” I say, taking a step forward. “The relic isn’t an object, as we had thought.

I have reason to believe that the daughter holds the magick we thought would be imbued into a relic.

” Her fingers rap musically on the arm of the chaise lounge while her gaze is far away in thought. Slowly, her eyes trail up to mine.

“And the daughter?” She asks pensively. She leaves the question open-ended purposefully, wanting me to fill her in on anything I see fit. I shrug.

“Seems she is unaware.” I say, leaving out that she is already out of the palace and we are on our way here.

“Interesting.” She steeples her fingers in front of her mouth while she keeps her eyes trained on me.

“You know, Kyros, I sense something different about you. The tenseness in your shoulders… It feels almost as though you are holding something back…” Her eyes narrow.

She is one I wish wasn't so adept at reading emotions.

“I have been holding back since the moment I stepped foot back in Eathian.” I answer honestly.

Though Queen Phaedra was kind to us as children and while growing up in her presence, I know that she can be cruel too.

I didn’t want to show up with Astraea in tow and have the fury of a vengeful mad queen come at her for her father’s wrongdoings.

I had to come here to let her onto the idea easy.

“I think the daughter could be of use.” I finally say, and her lips purse.

She is silent for a long moment as she considers my words.

“You can get her out of the castle?” She whispers, “ Bring her to me .” Cruelness leaches into her tone, and it curls around my spine.

“I believe that she is innocent in all of this.” It’s a risk to say, but I can’t bring Astraea here if she is in harm's way. I won't. “She is as innocent as I was.” I continue .

“And you believe that her father would spare you if he knew who you were?” She scolds, and my jaw feathers as I fight a retort. “No, he would make a mockery of you.” She answers her own question.

“He could try,” I grind between my teeth.

“He would try.” She agrees.

“The daughter, she is different. I believe that she will work with you. She is not high in Connard’s regard. He treats her as an object.” My hand wraps around the hilt of the sword at my hip, and her eyes watch keenly. Gritting my teeth, I stop talking. I’ve said too much. I’ve shown too much.