Desire, page 16
When Egon finally swallowed, Eero thought his father would tell him why he was here, but Egon just cut another small piece of meat, put some vegetables on his fork, and chewed. Then came another bite, just like the previous one. Egon’s face was relaxed, almost peaceful as he cut, bit, chewed, and swallowed. Over and over again.
Eero’s grip tightened on his fork as he stabbed it into his meat and took a bite of his own. What game was he playing? His hands stopped, and he just held the cutlery above his dinner, watching his father’s precise moves as he cut, chewed, and swallowed.
When Egon finished eating, he reached for his wine. “Won’t you finish that?” Egon pointed at Eero’s half-finished dinner.
Eero blinked and put down his cutlery. “Why are you here, father?”
“Why don’t we have dessert?”
Eero’s jaw tensed, but he nodded. “Fine. We can do this your way.” He motioned to a servant to clean the table. “How are you, father?”
Egon’s smile widened, and he leaned back, sipping his wine. “I’m good. Thank you for asking. Aiden is doing great. Being away from Ugresh has helped him relax.” He put down his glass, the red diamond on his finger glittered in the light. The sign of his power as the eldest in his family. “How are you, son?”
“I’m good.” Eero knocked on the armrest with his fingers.
“Excuse me, my king.” A servant stepped to them, bowing deep and turned to Egon. “What kind of dessert would you like, sir?”
“Strawberry cheesecake,” Egon said without hesitation. The man bowed again and disappeared behind a door. “It was lovely to see you in Zosport. You should visit more often.”
“Sure.” Eero emptied his glass again.
The man returned with a piece of cake for Egon, and the usual soufflé for Eero. He picked up his spoon, broke the hard shell of it, and with some satisfaction he watched as the creamy chocolate poured out from the inside.
“I hope you’re happy to see me here,” Egon said as he cut a tiny piece of his cake.
“I’m thrilled.”
Eero finished his soufflé in a few bites and drank another glass of wine while Egon nibbled on his cake. When the servant came to refill his glass, Eero lifted a finger and switched to water. He needed to keep his head clear to play his father’s game.
“We’re having a nice spring,” Egon said. “The farmers will have a good harvest if it stays like this.”
“Probably.” Eero looked at Egon’s plate; he still had half of his cake. This was torture. He knocked on the armrest again.
Egon smiled. “Any news from Kylan?”
“Yes.”
“Is it good?” Egon took another small bite.
Eero took a sharp breath. “Yes.” With every passing moment, tension knotted Eero’s muscles. He watched his father, holding his breath, waiting for answers.
Egon finally finished his cake, and Eero let out a long sigh. But it was too soon to be relieved. With his fork, Egon carefully picked up every crumb. One by one, they vanished from Egon’s plate.
“This cake was delicious.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” Eero shifted, and opened his mouth to ask again why Egon had come, when he started scraping the rest of the strawberry from his plate. Gently and slowly, without making a sound on the glass with the metal. Was he going to lick it clean too?
Then Egon finally picked up his napkin and, with careful, small movements, wiped his mouth. He sipped from his wine and leaned back again. Just as calm and relaxed as he’d been when he’d walked into Eero’s bedroom.
“We’ll talk about the rebels tomorrow,” Egon started. “What’s more important is your alliance with Darthos.”
Eero growled shortly, and emptied his glass, a little disappointed that this time it was just water. “So you’re here to advise me?”
“Why else would I be here?” Egon twisted his glass between his fingers. “As you know, Darthos is a snake-humanoid.”
“Yes.” Eero’s grip tightened on his glass. “What is your point?”
“My point is that you have your answers there.” Egon tilted his head. “Lifespan, reproduction, habitat.”
Eero rolled his eyes and recalled the information without a word. Snake-humanoids lived in deep forests. They only had a chance to reproduce once in fifty years, but in return they could live hundreds of years.
“Why is this important?”
“Darthos is in his late sixties.”
Eero smirked. “I like where you’re going with this.” He leaned back, relaxed. “Do you know something?”
“Not yet. You might want The Order to look into it. This kind of demon is rare. You might have a chance to keep Darthos in check if you threaten his offspring.”
The Order of the Ember Rose, a secret spy and peace keeping organization, was Eero’s best shot, but there was something creepy about them and he used them as little as possible. They were loyal to the crown, not the king, serving only the country.
“I’ll get them on it.” Eero nodded. “You could’ve sent me a letter with his information. Why are you here?”
“I have some business in Ugresh. I want to visit the graveyard, and you need my help.”
“I don’t need your help.” Eero waved. “I have my advisers. Someone needs to run Zosport and the lands on the continent. Go home, father. I have everything under control.”
“Aiden is perfectly capable of running Zosport and the county while I’m here.” Egon emptied his glass. “You, on the other hand, my son, are facing forces you cannot fight alone. You need me.” He grinned. “And even I have to report to the Council of the Masters.” Egon stood and nodded to Eero. “Dinner was lovely, son. We should dine together tomorrow too.”
Eero frowned as Egon left the room, staring at the door long after his father had left. That was it? That was why he had to sit through this dinner?
“One day I’ll find out how you know everything,” he muttered.
Chapter 23
Kylan
Fire streamed from his hands waking Kylan from his nightmare. Cold sweat ran down his back as he tried to calm himself by taking long, deep breaths. Flames danced around him, on his bed and on the curtains. Lifting his arm, he extinguished them with one fluid motion. The fire was gone, but the smoke and the damage made by the flames remained.
On unsteady legs, he went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face and the back of his neck. His past haunted him. The Rune whispered in his ears, in his soul, promising the safety of numbness. To resist its calling, Kylan grabbed the edge of the sink. In the four days since he had stepped out of the Rune, he discovered a new world. A world where cruelty wasn’t part of everyday life. He had found kindness, and he was able to return it.
Building friendships, or at least trying to be nice to people, brought up the memories of his Initiation. The night of his first kill. The first night he could’ve been killed. His knuckles turned white on the sink as his last words to Finn echoed in his mind. I don’t care who I kill first.
Kylan resisted the Rune’s calling. The names were white on his chest, like small scars, and he intended to keep it that way.
“Love, any kind of love, isn’t the sign of weakness,” he repeated Egon’s words over and over again, hoping that they would help.
Right next to his own name was Finn’s. A permanent reminder of his death. His body shook, and his muscles tightened. With a loud crack, half of the sink landed on the ground. Shards covered the tiles and water ran freely from the tap on the floor. His magic swirled, and the calling of the Rune grew stronger. The names flashed in orange from the center of his chest, then turned back to white.
He turned his gaze from the sink and stared into the mirror. Kylan ran his fingers over the names. Thirty-eight people had died by his hands, and those had been only the marked ones, only duels. He’d known many of them, but he didn’t remember their faces. After the first few kills, he’d stopped building friendships, he’d stopped caring for people.
He washed his face and closed the tap. Shattered, damaged beyond repair. Just like him.
After cleaning up as much as he could, he climbed back into bed to try to sleep some more, but his thoughts wandered to Alana. She had been patient with him, and even though he assumed she had seen more than she was letting on, for some unknown reason, she still looked like she wanted him to act on his desire.
Kylan turned to his other side and closed his eyes. He was too corrupted for her.
The night turned into dawn, and as the sun rose; he got up too and went about his day, still avoiding people, but now it was more because of his emotional state than dislike. And somehow he managed to get through his morning routine and enter his first class without interacting with anyone.
This was the second time Alana had left him alone with them and he actually enjoyed teaching. The more he felt, the stronger he sensed Egon’s influence. The way he talked with the kids, the way he explained things to them, it reminded him of how his grandfather had taught him.
A little girl fell from the balance beam onto the mattress, and shot out a fireball, almost hitting a boy. After putting out the fire and checking the boy, Kylan crouched next to the girl.
“Are you alright?”
“I hate my power,” she sniffed. “It always works by itself. I want to be a witch. Their power never works against their will.”
“Don’t say that. You have an amazing power.” He tried to calm her by summoning a fireball and forming it into a bird. He got a smile in return. “And our power doesn’t work the same way as the witches’.”
“Why?”
“Because we have a different way to access magic. Mages use internal power, while witches use external.”
“What does that mean?” she looked at him, confused.
Kylan sighed. He had to explain every little thing and they never ran out of questions. Which still annoyed him, but now, without the Rune, he found the patience needed to teach.
“Witches harness their power from nature. Magic isn’t a part of them, they just use it. Like you use a pencil to draw. Mages have power inside them, running in their veins. It’s like a muscle. To get control over it, you need to practice a lot.”
“But if it’s inside me, why can’t I control it? I can control my legs.”
Kylan smiled. “Then why did you fall?” The girl gave him an angry look. “What I mean is that you need time to learn how to walk, run, dance, and you are still learning how to maintain your balance on one leg. That is exactly how magic works inside you. You need time to get control over it and learn how to use its full potential.”
“I don’t want to lose control anymore. I don’t want to burn my friends.”
“Everyone loses control sometimes. And healers can heal those kind of wounds easily. You don’t have to worry about it.”
“Do you lose control too?”
“Yes. When I have bad dreams.”
“Why do you have bad dreams?”
Kylan opened and closed his mouth. His nightmares weren’t the kind of things six-year-olds should hear about.
“He has bad dreams because of little girls who ask inappropriate questions.”
Dorian stood behind them, but Kylan quickly turned away from him; he couldn’t look at Dorian for too long without his guilt bubbling up. He was close to spilling everything. He had betrayed their trust and hated himself for it. After his feelings returned, they had a long talk, and it turned out that Dorian was a nice guy.
“Class is over. Everyone, go change,” Dorian said. “Enjoy the extra ten minutes.”
“Thanks for saving my ass.” Kylan stood and noticed the cane in the other man’s hand. He swallowed and lifted his gaze to his face, but it was worse. Green lines covered his neck, his right eye was red and the other yellow. “How long have you been standing there?”
“From the beginning of the interrogation. You explained the difference between mages and witches well.” Dorian smiled. “You’re getting better at teaching every day.”
“I’m still not sure they won’t kill me, but they aren’t so frightening anymore.” Kylan frowned. “No offense, but why didn’t these kids scream when they looked at you? You look like… well, you look awful.”
Dorian laughed, which quickly turned into coughing. Kylan couldn’t do anything but stand there awkwardly.
“They see me as I was before the poison.” He shrugged. “I can still perform illusions. Why don’t we take a walk?”
Kylan nodded and followed him in silence.
Dorian stopped at a bench. His movements were rigid and slow as he sat down. Pain twisted his face into a grimace as he stretched his legs and leaned the cane against the bench. Despite his reaction, Dorian was smiling, bathing in the warm sun with his eyes closed.
Kylan swallowed hard and joined him, looking everywhere but directly at Dorian. They were far enough away from the buildings to talk privately, but still too close for Kylan’s taste.
“Everything feels different when you only have a few days to live,” Dorian said.
Kylan shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”
Dorian opened his eyes and turned to him. “You weren’t the one who cut me.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He rubbed his short beard. He’d just helped plan it and collected the venoms. Kylan squeezed his eyes shut. Thoughts like these next to Dorian could get him kicked out. And he couldn’t fail. He couldn’t disappoint his father.
Dorian chuckled. “It’s so nice you think I don’t know why you’re here.” He coughed again, spitting blood into a handkerchief. “This coughing sucks.”
Kylan stared at him with his mouth open. “Then why did you let me stay?”
Dorian put the napkin away. “Because of Alana. It’s quite hard to resist her, isn’t it?”
Heat ran to Kylan’s face, and he turned away and fiddled with his bracelet. “I guess. She is nice.”
“When I die, you need to help her.”
Kylan snorted. “Me? How?”
Dorian turned his face back to the sun. “You’re the only one who doesn’t question my death, or wants to keep me in my bed to save my strength.”
“I won’t pity you, Dorian. If you’re strong enough to get out of bed, then you should do that. But if you’re here to get my support, or pity, you picked the wrong guy.”
Dorian laughed again. “Actually, it’s nice you still treat me like I’m a person, even with the flashes of guilt on your face.” He looked deep into his eyes. “I don’t blame you. Maybe it was you who came up with this idea, maybe it was you who collected the venom, but it wasn’t you who gave the order, or used the knife to cut me. My death isn’t on you.”
Kylan didn’t say anything. To him, it wasn’t that different. The sword couldn’t be blamed for the killing. It was always the man wielding it. And in this case, the blame fell onto the man behind the plan: him.
But his silence had another reason too. He had been so confident, so sure he had kept his mission a secret, that he couldn’t fathom being found out. He didn’t even try to understand why they let him stay. But one thing was clear; he understood why Dorian had been so cautious around him.
“I didn’t want to talk about my death, or your role in it.” Dorian sighed. “I need you to promise that you’ll help Alana. At least as long as you’re here.”
“Help with what? I have no idea how to… get over grief.”
“Not with that.” He shook his head. “She has trouble with her telepathy. When she helped you, when she guided you… I’ve never seen her doing something like that. Without me, there will be no one strong enough to guide her. Help her, Kylan.”
“I’m not a telepath.” Dorian raised an eyebrow at that and Kylan rolled his eyes. “I know you know.”
“For some reason, she listens to you. You can give her what I’ve never could. Just help her, okay? She’s stronger than she thinks.” When he didn’t reply, Dorian tilted his head. “Promise me, Kylan. Give me this for having faith in you.”
He swallowed. “I’ll try my best.”
Dorian let out a relieved sigh and stood.
“Why aren’t you afraid I’ll spill everything to my father?”
Dorian smirked. “Because you won’t be able to. Even I can’t tell who the descendants are, only they can. And because your plan is about to bite you in the ass.” He turned and walked back toward the buildings.
“What do you mean?”
“Lili is dead, Kylan. Soon, I’ll be too. And you won’t like who the next leader will be.”
Kylan jogged after him, a knot forming in his guts. “Why? Who will be the next leader?”
Dorian grinned. “You’ll see.”
Kylan grabbed his arm when he wanted to go inside. “Who?”
“You’ll know when it’s time.” He glanced at Kylan’s hand. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to let me go. I’m a bit tired.”
“Oh, right, sorry,” Kylan muttered, stepping back. He had tried to find out who the next leader could be, but he had no idea. He had assumed one of the faction leaders, but they were all weaker mages, and he didn’t even know all their names.
“You’ll be late for your class, Kylan,” Dorian said from the door.
Oh, shit. He turned and jogged back to the gym. He had a session with the young fire mages and with Alana. The knot in his guts vanished, and a smile spread across his face. She had that effect on him, lightening his mood, making him see the light.
Alana stood in front of the gym, her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed, but a smile hid in the corners of her mouth. “You’re late.”
Kylan stopped and gave her a peck on the cheek because he couldn’t resist touching her. “I’m sorry. What is the plan for today?”
She blushed and took a half step back. “We are going to teach them how to control other fires.”
“Fun.” Kylan nodded. “Teenagers?”
“Yes.” Alana put her hand on his arm, sending a light shiver through his skin. “Be patient.”
If they behaved. Kylan bit back his reply and went inside.
He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, letting Alana talk to the annoying teens. With children, he had made his peace. They were scary for sure, but in a way, cute. But teenagers… That was a whole different story. They talked back and didn’t do what Alana told them just for the sake of not doing it. They had the delusion that they knew everything, and they knew it better.
