Page 89 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

KILLIAN

How anyone believed that Dareena was Lydia was beyond Killian, because every time he looked at her, it was screamingly obvious she was not.

And yet they did.

As the Teradale ballroom filled with nobility all intent on meeting the new Falorn queen, it was very clear to Killian, who dutifully stood at Dareena’s elbow the entire time, that everyone was seeing exactly what they wanted to see.

Even Hacken.

His brother fawned over Dareena, who, at his mother’s suggestion, said little. He introduced her to men and women who’d known Dareena her entire life, none of them seeing the decade of age difference behind the heavy war paint that was starting to bleed in the extreme heat.

“Dance with her,” his mother hissed. “You look miserable.”

“I am miserable.” But he dutifully took Dareena onto the dance floor, then pretended to teach her steps that she knew as well as he did, the watching lords and ladies smiling and laughing in delight.

It was with the greatest relief to both of them when he finally delivered her to Lydia’s room, where Gwen and Lena had resumed their duties.

His mother, who’d taken on the role of Lydia’s lady in waiting, disappeared inside with his mentor, who started cursing about skirts the moment the door was shut.

Leaning against a wall, Killian drew in a steadying breath.

Lydia would already be aboard the ship and heading to Revat, which was a short journey.

Sonia was with her, and he knew the Gamdeshians would do everything in their power to protect her.

Yet he still hated not being at her side, because it was where he was meant to be.

“Killian?”

He lifted his head to see Finn standing in the corridor, expression full of uncertainty, and he silently cursed himself for forgetting to track his young friend down. “I’m sorry, Finn. I meant to find you earlier, but…”

Finn shrugged. “It’s fine. I had other business.”

The other business was likely theft of some sort, and Killian made a note to have the boy turn out his pockets later. But not now. They’d been too long apart for him to start with criticism. “Sonia took care of you?”

“Sure. Seldrid lets me have the run of his palace. He’s got fewer rules than you.”

“Probably because he doesn’t know the half of the trouble you get into. Come on.” He slung an arm around Finn’s skinny shoulders, heading toward the kitchen. “Let’s get something to eat.”

The kitchens were still warm and scented with food from the banquet, but only a few servants remained cleaning up.

Killian knew all of them, and they smiled and pretended not to notice as he piled a plate high with cuts of meat left over from the banquet.

He started to pour a glass of milk for Finn, then eyed the boy for a moment and gave him half a glass of ale. “Don’t tell Sonia.”

The corner of Finn’s mouth turned up as he took the glass, and then he followed Killian to the scarred table the cooks used to prepare food and sat down on a stool.

Finn sipped at his ale, then asked, “Where’s Lydia?”

“In her room,” Killian answered, taking a mouthful of ale himself. “She’s tired.”

The boy cast a sideways look at the servants, then leaned his elbows on the table, voice quiet as he said, “That’s Dareena. Those puffed-up nobles might not be able to tell the difference, but I ain’t fooled by a bit of face paint.”

Killian blew out a slow breath of air, not certain whether he was anxious or relieved that Finn had seen through the act. “How can you tell?”

“By the way she looks at me,” Finn replied. “Or, more accurately, doesn’t look at me.”

Killian’s skin prickled ever so slightly, and he flicked a glance at the servants, but they were all on the far side of the room.

“Also because Dareena stomps like she wants to murder the ground beneath her feet, and Lydia—”

“Glides,” they both said at the same time, and Killian gave a soft laugh. “I told Dareena as much.”

He eyed Finn for a long moment, noting that the boy had grown taller in the time they’d been apart, yet somehow skinnier. “You cannot tell. Not anyone.”

Finn snorted. “You think I can’t keep my mouth shut? I’m a collector of information, not a spender of gossip.”

Seldrid had clearly had an influence on him. “Sorry for the offense.”

“So where is she?” Finn asked. “And why aren’t you with her?”

“Because no one would believe this ruse if I left.” Killian stared at his glass, unease rising. “She’s on a ship to Revat. Sonia’s with her.”

“Why Revat?”

“Because she and Malahi hope to find answers as to how to defeat the blight,” he replied. “If we can’t do that, the war is lost.”

Finn was silent, and when Killian lifted his gaze, it was to find the boy staring at him intently. Almost… angrily. “What’s wrong?”

“It can’t be defeated,” Finn snapped, then shook his head. “Everyone says so. She should be here. With you.”

“I should be there. With her.” Draining his glass, Killian waited for the servants to abandon the kitchen, then said, “We learned in Anukastre that the blight has come before and been defeated by tenders. It can be done, we just don’t know how.”

“And you think the Gamdeshians do?”

“Revat has the oldest and largest collection of information. If there are answers, the answers are there.”

“Makes sense.” Finn took another small sip of his drink, then pushed it aside. “So there’s hope? What about the blighters? Did the Anuk know anything about stopping them?”

The most tenuous strands of hope, but Killian nodded. “The Anuk didn’t have any knowledge about the blight infecting the living. But Lydia is twice touched by Hegeria, Finn. She can… do things that other healers can’t. If there is a way to help them, she’ll find it.”

Finn gave a slow nod. “I believe you. Kitaryia has always been special. I knew from the first moment I met her.”

Killian rubbed at his arms, abruptly tired of the endless tension. Of always sensing the threat but unable to do anything about it. “Don’t call her that.”

“But it’s her name. Kitaryia Falorn.”

“Once, but no longer.” Sighing, Killian said, “She has been Lydia most of her life, and to call her something against her will strips away her identity.”

Finn shifted restlessly, then said, “Makes no difference to me, especially since it’s going to be my lady this and Your Grace that. Though she ought to do me the same favor, king of the sewers that I am.”

Killian laughed. “You’ve claimed Serlania, then?”

“Of course. Your mum shipped my old crew down here and they’ve been running wild. They needed me to put things to right, so it’s well and good that I didn’t go with you.”

There was a trace of bitterness to Finn’s voice, and Killian said, “It was miserable. Like journeying into the underworld itself.”

“No place for a child.”

Irritation filled Killian, impatience that Finn was attempting to make him feel badly for not bringing him despite it being almost certain he wouldn’t have survived the journey. “No place for anyone.”

Finn didn’t answer.

Rising to his feet, Killian pushed in his stool. “I need to get some sleep. If you’d like, we can find some time to work on your swordsmanship.”

The boy nodded sullenly, but as Killian moved away from the table, he said, “How did you get your sword back? Sonia was sick with worry when it went missing. Thought it had been stolen.”

“Tremon.”

Finn’s head snapped up, eyes filled with shock. “How?”

“Handed it to me himself,” Killian answered. “Good night.”

Walking through the kitchen to the main door, Killian paused, knowing that he needed to do better by him, especially with Sonia already gone. “Finn,” he started to say, but when he turned, it was to find the boy already gone.

All that remained was the tray on the table, the food on it entirely untouched.