Page 68 of Of Nightmares & Fire (Elusive Umbra #1)

Chapter fifty-one

Astraea

Kyros leads me down the stairs and through the dark halls on our way to the dining room.

This house isn’t a palace, but it’s on a grander scale.

Fit for a lord and his lady, most likely.

Although there is no art decorating the walls, the quality of the finishes are superior.

Carved wood panels create half mandalas every few strides.

There are similar wood etchings in rooms in the palace, which makes me wonder if the artist who designed them is the same.

“This place is beautiful,” I say as we turn a corner and stand in front of two double doors.

It feels strange that there is no one manning the entry.

There usually is in the palace, but I have to remind myself of where I am.

I can hear the feast has not waited for our arrival.

Boisterous celebrating is already taking place within; the energy seems to leak from the cracks of the door along with the light.

As soon as we are close to it, I look up and smile at Kyros.

“Thank you,” he says, surprising me. My brows drop and my smile falters. Thank you? I am about to ask what he means when a man walks up behind him. His hand clamps down on Kyros’ shoulder.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.

No one believes me that you are—oh, this must be her, huh?

” The man is young, likely just a little younger than me; nineteen, maybe twenty.

The hair on his chin is patchy, and he smells like ale, hay, and black pepper.

Kyros smirks, wrapping his arm around the young man's shoulders.

“Princess Astraea, I’d like you to meet my brother, Beckett.

He is the one throwing the feast tonight.

Beckett, this is Princess Astraea Casimir of Eathian.

” Kyros says with an uncharacteristic smile.

Oh. Brother? I guess now the thank you makes more sense…

This is Kyros’ childhood home. I look between the two of them, a polite smile pulling my lips up at the corners as I try to see the resemblance.

Marvros and Kyros may look similar in features, while starkly different in many other ways.

This younger man looks nothing like either.

His skin is reddened by the sun, not bronzed like theirs, and his red-brown hair is a curly mop on top of his head.

Kyros’ smile widens as he realizes the puzzle I am trying to piece together .

“He is our adoptive brother; Beckett was conceived just a few years prior to our parents taking us in. He was just barely beginning to talk then; now he barely shuts up.” Beckett makes a face at Kyros’ words, and my smile grows.

“Do you have to say it like that? Conceived?” He makes a puking sound in the back of his throat, and Kyros shakes his head with a look of brief annoyance. Though, it's the least threatening reaction that I’ve seen on his face since I’ve known him.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Beckett,” I say just before loud cheering breaks out within the dining room, startling me. It sounds like there are hundreds of people inside, and it distracts me enough that I jump a little again when Beckett takes my hand.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He says, before he kisses the top of my knuckles.

He looks up and winks just like Mavros, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Damn, a laugh like that will make your di—Oof!” Kyros throws his fist into Beckett’s stomach, and he drops my hand.

The boy is laughing, though, doubled over even, holding his middle and wheezing for air, but clearly not in too much pain.

“Watch it, Beckett.” Kyros says with a smirk, coming to stand at my side. His hand slides right to the small of my back as though it was always made to fit perfectly there.

“It’s fine.” I press my hand to his stomach, and all of our eyes drop to the movement. Kyros meets my gaze again, and I hear Beckett let out a low whistle.

“Well, that’s something I’ve never seen.

” Beckett laughs, pulling my attention back to him.

“I never thought I would see the day that someone shut you up, touched you, and they kept their hands.” Kyros lets out a sigh, shakes his head, and wrenches open the door to the dining room.

The noise floods the mostly quiet hallway, and Beckett is the first one to walk through, completely ignoring the glare pinned to the back of his head.

“He’s—” I start to smile and look at Kyros.

“A pain in the ass.” Kyros finishes for me as he pulls my arm through his.

“I was going to say sweet, and a bit amusing.” I roll my lips in, a poor attempt at hiding just how amused I am. Kyros shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and blows it out his cheeks.

“In an annoying way… I suppose…” His lips curl up as he looks down at me, and the low light of the room reflects within his irises.

For the first time I notice the deep spice coloring of his eyes.

Not black, but a bottomless rust, like an ember just barely kept alive by a motionless wind.

The deepest amber. He clears his throat, looking away when he catches me staring, and my gaze drops with heat rising to my cheeks.

Kyros doesn’t comment on my embarrassment if he notices but guides me through the room of rowdy people.

Most of which have had far more to drink than they should, judging by the clear disarray around us.

Despite the chaos, everyone still smiles.

It’s such a strange sight to be at a dinner party that is filled with this much true happiness rather than stiff conversations and forced friendship.

Nothing about the room is like any of the dinners my father hosts.

The room is broken into bubbles of tables and people.

Each round table is surrounded by chairs, and a feast lies in the center.

People pile dishes high with an assortment of colorful dishes.

Their plates are steaming, and the multitude of scents waft from them with every passing.

Kyros guides me through the room to a darker corner.

He sits in the chair next to me and gestures to the plethora in front of us, and while I load my plate, I feel his eyes on me.

We eat without much talking as we watch the Neer people enjoy the night. There are so many people; I know it can’t be just those that live here. Yet, I still have not seen anyone I know. I am about to ask Kyros where the others are when I hear Mavros laugh from behind me.

“Well, fuck me sideways and—”

“Another word, I’ll rip out your tongue.” Kyros interrupts Mavros. The latter just smiles wide between us before settling on me.

“Well, Princess, you sure look beautiful.” He extends his hand, and I turn and take it. His grin turns devious before he gives a playful wink at Kyros. He then pulls me from my seat, spinning me into his arms just as he did at the palace. “I think you need to dance.”

“Mavros!” I gasp, scolding him, as I nearly fall, but it’s half-hearted and ineffective through my laughing.

“Careful, princess, it almost sounds like you’re having fun.

” Mavros whispers in my ear, and it makes my brows drop.

Just as I think that he’s right and maybe I shouldn’t be feeling this way, my eyes snag on Kyros.

He’s watching us as he talks to Zinya, Colette, and Viltarin.

It’s the uncharacteristic smile on his face that makes me think of the promise we made each other to forget everything we have to face when we leave here.

It’s like I feel a heaviness lift from my chest, and for the first time in my life, I truly breathe.

That small reminder was enough. I let Mavros pull me further into the celebrating bodies.

Every one of them dancing with a smile on their faces.

Even though they lost so much, many of them everything, they can still celebrate that very day.

Before long, I find that my worries have taken less space in my mind, and I am laughing at the jokes that Mavros whispers in my ear with each twirl or dip.

Time means nothing.

Mavros is a good dancer. He keeps my feet moving for what could have been hours.

I’m out of breath, could use some wine, and probably a moment to relieve myself.

My face hurts with how much I have been laughing as he spins me off from person to person.

A new dance partner every few minutes before being spun back to him.

“Having fun, Princess?” He laughs, and I nod my head.

I am for once. “Looks like your escort is getting anxious to get you back.” He says with a tilt of his head.

I follow his line of sight, and sure enough, Kyros stands close, just at the edge of where people have made this the dance floor.

The music slows, and with one last spin, Mavros sends me twirling right to his brother.

“Mavros!” I gasp as I slam into Kyros’ chest. He wraps his arms around my waist and keeps me flush to him so I don’t fall. I look up to meet his eyes. “Hi,” I squeak like a caught mouse.

“What did I tell you about another man’s name on your lips when you are breathless, Shula?” Kyros’ voice is low, so low that the vibrating rumble echoes through his chest and into me. My nipples harden as my cheeks flame, remembering what happened the last time he told me that.

“I don’t think there is anything you can do about it here…

chivalrous one.” I tease. I can feel the eyes on us and hear the whispers.

Just like his younger brother said, the way Kyros lets me push him is not usual of him.

The others seem to take notice, and even though I know too, I do it just to see how far I can.

The way he looks at me, I realize, is exhilarating and wakes something that has been long dormant.

I tilt my head, waiting for his next move.

“You forget that I can rend a portal right under our feet and take you anywhere I wish.” He nearly growls.