Page 15 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

~ YILAN ~

The following day was difficult. I couldn’t sleep and took advantage any time Melek offered kafk throughout the day, along with plates of hot food that fed more than my stomach.

He was true to his word and brought a female slave for a brief, murmured conversation about the things I would need when my cycle began. And though it wasn’t my first time on a strategic foray that I had needed to alert a male to my situation, it felt… different here.

At least Fetch men were accustomed to mothers, sisters, wives—even friends—who were female. The Nephilim seemed to see women as nothing but chattels, slaves to meet their needs. All their needs.

The legend was that a good many human women died in childbirth when bearing Nephilim because the males were so much bigger. Some even died before the labor, bleeding to death, their bodies torn internally by their own offspring.

The darkest stories told of Physicians trained to cut the child out when it became clear that the mother couldn’t deliver naturally—at the cost of the mother’s life. It was whispered that any female who’d been strong enough to carry a Nephilim to term was extremely desirable in their society. The males fought over her. She would be kept in luxury—and would lose her freedom from that day on, provided for lavishly… as long as she continued to bear young. But more often than not, the women died, either bleeding out, or simply unable to deliver. And the Nephilim didn’t care, because there would always be more women.

Surviving Nephilim young were far more rare.

I wished I could speak with this woman to find out how she had come to be here and whether these awful tales were true. But with Melek there and his sharp ears… I made do with thanking her for her help and telling her that should she ever be nearby and wish to share a kafk with a prisoner, I would enjoy the female company.

She smiled, but only nodded. I didn’t hold out hope.

I didn’t miss the way her eyes followed Melek around the tent, or her bright-eyed smile when he thanked her, though it seemed that he did, keeping his eyes down on his papers. He had stayed in the tent as we spoke but busied himself writing messages at that little table. He didn’t even look up when he sent her away with his gratitude.

So, as darkness descended on that day I should have been easing towards sleep. Especially when Melek went to bed early. But I found myself unable to sleep deeply. I woke at any little noise in the night, including the moment a small mouse slipped into the shadow of my pillow on its way through the tent.

The second day after the Shade’s attack the exhaustion truly hit. I was still very hungry, though no longer with the gnawing ache I’d been experiencing before. I’d definitely gained strength from the food Melek brought at each mealtime. Especially since the portions were Nephilim sized. Even in my greatest hunger I couldn’t possibly fit it all in one sitting. So, I’d kept the breads and fresh fruits aside to nibble at between meals.

But even with the food, I was anticipating my cycle and lacking sleep. On top of which there had been so many dangers… my senses did not want to ease. My mind did not stop conjuring potential threats. And so, my body did not relax.

Thank the Father I did not have a mirror to see how dark the circles under my eyes had become. I saw enough unease reflected in Melek’s to know that they must be bad. But he didn’t speak of it, for which I was grateful.

We’d just finished breakfast when Gall arrived. I was surprised to see that his bruises had already almost faded, and the swelling on his face was gone. These Nephilim healed quickly.

Dammit.

“Hello, Papa! Hello, Yilan!” Gall said brightly as he strode into the tent, not unlike Melek when he was focused.

He was still weaponless, still being sent to Melek daily for “duties.” But I couldn’t help but notice how much happier and more confident he was here with Melek than when he’d been with the other soldiers.

I wondered if Melek would manipulate this event to shift him to permanent assistance. I hoped so.

“Morning, Son,” Melek said, still picking at his breakfast.

“Hello, Gall. Good morning to you,” I said warmly, winking at him when he beamed at the dirty plate at my side.

He’d been extremely pleased the day before to learn that I’d given up my spear and was eating again. Which was touching.

I found it interesting that Melek didn’t tell him why.

“What duties do I have today?” Gall said, coming to a stop next to Melek’s seat, his empty hands dangling at his sides.

Oddly, Melek glanced at me before answering his son. “I have need for a set of screens—similar to those I use,” he said, tipping his head towards the folding screens at the back of the tent. “But they must be short enough to fit inside the cage with our… guest,” he said dryly. “That may be difficult to find.”

“I can do it,” Gall said confidently. “And I’ll get her a new waterskin too.”

I was already receiving kafk, and sometimes cider or water with my meals, so a waterskin was far less important now, but I just smiled at him when he looked at me.

“Very good,” Melek muttered, taking a final bite of his honeycake, then wiping his hands on his thighs as he stood. “We’ll need to—”

“Sir, please pardon my interruption, I have a message from the King.”

We all turned as a tall, young Nephilim, much thinner and trimmer than any I’d seen before, entered the tent saluting Melek who hurriedly tugged Gall behind him and gestured for him to stay quiet.

The boy was wide-eyed and stiff, shrinking, as if he wished to hide behind Melek’s bulk.

Did he know the King was his father? Or was he only nervous now about anyone because he’d been punished?

“The King sends an urgent message, Sir,” the messenger said quickly, eyeing me warily. “He has determined that it is important for both him and you to be seen at the battle front. To inspire the ranks as we embark on this critical maneuver. He readies his beast so that you can travel and return immediately and says you should do the same.”

Melek didn’t react in the slightest. Not a blink, not a freeze. He didn’t miss a beat, though I knew he had to have at least a few misgivings about this. He only nodded and sighed. “Very well, please tell the King I’ll be ready in an hour—”

“He said thirty minutes, Sir… sorry,” the messenger added under his breath, his eyes apologetic on Melek.

The messenger apologized to the General for the King’s pleasure?

And Melek didn’t believe these men followed him?

I shook my head in frustration and Melek caught the movement. As if he heard the thought, he shot me a glare but said nothing.

“Very well, thirty minutes. I will be ready. Please take the message to the stable-tent before returning to the King. I’ll need my beast groomed and watered right away, while I prepare things here.”

The messenger ducked his head and darted out of the tent, his long, loping strides evident even in this small space.

The moment the messenger was gone Melek turned to stare at me, his face grim.

I stared back. “Interesting timing. Separating you from the ranks—”

“Gall, please go find Jannus and tell him that unless he has orders from the King Himself, he is to find cover for all other responsibilities and come here to my tent. Immediately.”

Gall hopped like he’d been poked, running out of the tent with barely a Yes sir!

Melek waited until he was gone before turning to face me. He stood in front of the cage with his arms folded in a posture that I was growing to understand he used any time he wished to assert his dominance.

“If you speak against the King in the presence of any Nephilim again, I will gag you. Without warning. But particularly in front of Gall. He may be slower to learn, but he is not unaware of political… currents. His worry, if he believes I am present for something that is wrong, could end in a hurried, unfiltered word to someone else, at an inopportune time.”

I blinked. I knew exactly what he meant and hadn’t thought. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I wasn’t—”

“No, you weren’t. Do not do it again.”

I nodded, but didn’t drop his gaze. “Still… we are alone now, yes? Please don’t try to make me believe that you can’t see the coincidence of timing? He’s getting you alone with him, and presumably, his most loyal guards two days after an attempt—”

“The only coincidence is with the timing of our attempt to split the Tuskarrian and Zaryndar ranks. I should have been at the front for this entire time. And trust me, Gault is far more intelligent than you give him credit for. He is filthy and selfish, but he sees far more than he comments upon, has great restraint with his tongue when he chooses to—and yes, is capable of great cunning. Those who underestimate him, do so to their own peril.”

I blinked. Melek’s eyes were locked on mine—and not angry.

Was he saying that he refused to speak about my suspicions because he believed the King was listening?

Was he saying he didn’t disagree… but was playing his own hand close to his chest?

Or was he staring me down because he was a stubborn fucker?

“And yet… on a trip to the front he demands your presence to… inspire?” I said cautiously.

Melek smiled grimly. “Both of us. Together. Calling the ranks to battle—a historic moment if we pull it off, wouldn’t you agree?” he said quietly.

I nodded as the image came alive in my head—Melek, the General who had led them to victory across the continent, until this point… sitting in the shadow of the King, who called them to a new strategy.

“A false hero,” I murmured.

“No, Yilan. A King. Leading his people, exactly as a King should.”

“Still. Apparently, your mere presence is inspiring?”

Melek huffed and began to turn away, towards that screen in the corner. “I need to change into my armor. I suspect you’ll be reminded how inspiring my presence can be,” he rumbled, flashing a self-satisfied half-smile at me over his shoulder.

My jaw dropped but he was already disappearing behind the screen as I scrambled.

Had Melek just… flirted with me?

Or was that a jab designed to make me feel small—a poke at the way he’d caught me watching him when he was naked?

I snorted myself at the torrent of not-small jokes that cascaded through my head, and wished Jann were there to appreciate them. They were wasted on Melek who would only be complimented.

“Melek?”

Speak of the devil. Jann jogged into the tent, his expression serious and concerned, especially when he found me watching, but no sign of Melek.

“I’m here,” Melek growled from behind the screens. “Are you armed, Jann?”

Jann looked down at the spear he was gripping and frowned. “Of course. Why? What’s—”

“I’ve been called to the front. I need you to watch over the Fetch and Gall for me. We should be back late tonight—we’re riding—but if we are held up…”

He let that thought trail off.

Jann looked at me, his brows high in surprise. But then he grinned. “Go with confidence, Mel. I’m sure I’ll figure out what to do,” he said, with a boyish wink.

I rolled my eyes but smiled with him.

He was delicious. Not at all my type, which was what made the flirting fun. I was certain he meant it even less than I did.

Then Melek emerged from behind the screen, still buckling the armor apron over the bulge in his fighting leathers and the roof of my mouth went dry.

He’d changed into thick leathers that hugged his massive thighs, a tunic of chainmail with plate armor over his jewels, and molded, reinforced leather braces at his shoulders and wrists. The wide weapon straps that crossed at the center of his chest were bristling with blades, and the twin gleam of his metal spear heads rose over his shoulders, echoing the rise of folded wings the Nephilim were rumored to have, though I’d seen no evidence of them so far.

Melek’s countenance was somber as he checked his weapons, then eyed Jann. A warrior preparing to fight.

I was struck, suddenly, by the vision of him.

I knew the legends of his prowess and cunning. I knew the victories he won, and the carnage he’d left in his wake. And still, despite knowing how crucial figureheads were to a force, I had mocked him that the King suggested his mere attendance might inspire.

I hadn’t doubted he would inspire confidence in his men. But in that moment, the world around me disappeared as I saw what I’d caught in him the first moment he entered the King’s tent when I was hidden there: the sheer presence of him.

“…chance to talk to some of the Captains about how to minimize the advantage the Aethereans are giving them. I don’t want to overplay that and knock the confidence of the rank and file but—Jann, are you listening?”

I blinked as Melek’s eyes cut to me, then to Jann and he arched one brow.

Wrenching my gaze from Melek, I found Jann watching me watch Melek and smiling suggestively.

I glared at the sunny Nephilim, whose smile just got broader.

“This isn’t the time for a fucking joke,” Melek growled. “Jann, I need you to attend—can you think of anything else that I need to use this time for, since I’ll only have hours. And I need you to stay here and watch her, and Gall as well. I don’t know when he’ll be pulled back to the shifts, but for now they keep sending him to me—don’t give them reason to draw him back. I’m sure they’re sick of dealing with him and it would be better to keep him here where at least he can be out from under the eyes of—”

“You said I was always useful.”

My heart screamed with empathy for the faint, pained tone in that precious voice.

All three of us snapped our heads to find Gall standing just inside the tent flap looking… so sad.

Melek’s eyes widened, and he lifted his hands. “Gall, I wasn’t—”

“You said I was always useful. You said I am strong, and—”

“You are, son. We’ve spoken before about how others misunderstand. You know that. I was only—”

Gall’s eyes welled with unshed tears and my heart cracked for him. “You said they were sick of dealing with me. Are you sick of me, as well?”

“No, Gall…” Melek rushed forward, putting his hands to his boy’s shoulders. I covered my mouth with my hands, simultaneously wanting to rush to Gall’s side and slap Melek for his thoughtless words.

In fairness, it was clear from Melek’s stricken expression that he’d slap himself if he could.

Hug him, I thought. Don’t just grip him… hug him.

But Melek kept Gall at arm’s length, holding him by the shoulders and leaning down slightly—though not far—to be eye to eye with his son.

“Gall, we have spoken in the past about how the soldiers view… all of this. I was only referring to that.”

Gall’s forehead was lined, his brows pinched together. His expression was one of a wounded child. My heart went out to him.

It was so hard to see him standing there—a big, bullish young man whose body held all the muscle and vigor of an accomplished warrior and yet housed the heart and mind of a child.

Life was already confusing to that kind of mind. Add the disparate nature of his appearance and the world would be greatly confused by him. My sister also suffered similar misunderstandings whenever new people were introduced since she looked like a normal young woman and acted with grace and kindness. She, at least, did not have to comport herself among the filth and aggression of soldiers.

But Gall…

I wanted to weep for him, seeing him watch his father scramble to explain his words. The transparency on his face—the clear wound, the fear, the fading hope.

They spoke for a long minute, Jannus watching them, also worried, but remaining silent. Eventually Gall looked down at his hands and shrugged.

“I understand.”

Melek sighed, knowing as I did that Gall had learned enough to know he was supposed to hide his fear, his hurt.

“Do you, Gall? Because I’ll be gone until tomorrow. I don’t want you to worry—”

“I understand, Papa. I do.”

Melek stared at him a moment longer, then nodded.

I mentally urged him again to offer a hug, an embrace, some kind of tangible comfort that did not have to be interpreted. But Melek only slapped his upper arm, then ruffled his hair. “Good man.”

Then he turned back to Jann, and though I could see the tension in him, it was also clear that he’d determined there was nothing more to be done for Gall at that moment.