“Me too.” He sighed, leaning over further, his head dropping. “When our son died, I blamed myself.”
She opened her mouth, trying to find something to say to that, but nothing came to mind.
“It took decades for me to get over it. He joined up to follow in my footsteps. Senri was always a great warrior but a protector at heart. He inherited my adventurous spirit and wanted to climb the ranks to join me with Nevyn and Varon. I’m certain he had a not-so-innocent crush on Kelsiana and idolized her. But he died, and it was because he jumped into a war to follow in my footsteps.”
“He made that decision,” she whispered. “I…have no place saying anything about your son, but that’s one thing I see clearly. He made that decision.”
“Yeah…Senri said the same thing. Her heart was broken, but it was always a risk. So, first I lost the only child my family has ever been blessed with, then I lose my wife. Willem and Gentrin say I’m overthinking it, that we’re going to save her and go home, but I know. I know what I’ve done to our family.”
“No,” she growled softly. “Not what you did. What Shadra did.”
“You have a very focused blame on her, don’t you?” Kian chuckled dryly. “Well, it makes sense, if I consider it—”
“She had my mother murdered, kidnapped me, tricked my father, and killed him too. Let’s not forget how she did all of that to win a war she started that got your son killed in battle. She orchestrated the assassination of most of the royal family. Yeah, I have a very focused blame. There’s no reason to blame others for merely reacting to the shit they’ve been put through. This is all her. It’s always been her.”
“And this? Not the Company’s fault but hers?”
“Hers.” To Mave, it wasn’t a question. It also wasn’t the first time she had tried to tell Kian this. He was good at blaming himself, and she could relate to that. Secretly, she did blame herself, but it only made her fight harder and remember Shadra was always going to be a problem until the bitch was dead.
“I wish I had your clarity,” he mumbled, rubbing his face.
“It’s not clarity. It’s anger.” Her throat grew tight. “Or maybe my clarity is from my rage.” It took effort, but she continued to battle the rage she felt that night and every night after. She wouldn’t release it again until she was there on the Empire’s soil and her blade could meet Elvasi flesh. It was a promise she made to herself, remembering how she felt awful for hurting Luykas while enraged.
“You can’t lie very well,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You hold blame against yourself.”
“Yes and no. I know she had a small group of Elvasi looking for me that night. I know what Alchan told us, about how the mission they ran which freed me made her look weak, and she needed a power play. You heard all of that too. I know, in some way, it’s my fault, but…” She huffed air out, watching the dark blue waves roll. “I shouldn’t have been in those pits. She put me there. She put so many there when we should all be living in a gorgeous mountain. So yes, I do carry some blame, but I’m angry with her that I have to, that I feel this way because it’s her fault. Understand?”
There was nothing Mave wouldn’t do to stop Shadra from making her feel that sharp guilt.
“I do,” he said softly. “Thank you for talking to me.”
“I’ll do anything to get her back,” Mave whispered. “Anything.”
“Me too.” He reached out, took her hand, and squeezed. “She really adores you. She loves watching you spread your wings, learning to fly. If we had a daughter, I think she would want someone like you.” He ruffled her hair after that, walking away.
His words bounced around in her head. She looked up to Kian and Senri and their family. Her heart ached. She never had parents, but she could look back and see how they would do parental things for her. She was more than old enough to be considered an adult, but Senri had taught her to play music, like mothers taught daughters as they grew up. They both watched her, along with so many others, as she learned to fly.
Her heart ached.
Shadra took away so much.
And the rage boiled in her blood.
28
Rainev
When the meeting broke up, Rain naturally followed Alchan out of the room. He was used to it now. After four months of being Alchan’s nemari, he was comfortable with the life of handling small tasks for his commander. He organized papers, grabbed books when Alchan needed to read something, for some reason. Most of the time, the grumpy king didn’t explain what he was doing, but there were times he stopped to give Rain a lesson. Once, he asked Alchan why he never drew his sword and fought with Mave in Blackstone. His answer had been enlightening.
“As much as I dislike it as a warrior, sometimes, a ruler has to show their power through his people. Who follows me is more important than what I can do alone. So, I used her. She’s strong, capable, and downright bloodthirsty right now. Why wouldn’t I show off the skilled warrior the Empire made for me? I have a fearsome warrior who listens to me. That says something about me, don’t you think?”
So, as they walked down the ship’s dark hall, he wondered what he was in for before the attack on Ellantia. He wondered what insightful things the bedru was holding in. Every time he thought he figured Alchan out, the king threw him for a loop. He was protective, but secretly. He’d ordered Mave to deal with the males as a last resort, right before their mission. He hadn’t wanted them mixing with her before that and was always grateful when he spoke about how they left each other alone. He was watchful of Kian, angry at him too. He didn’t want Kian to leave the Company but accepted it was a possibility, and there was nothing he could do about it. He accepted the fault of why as well.
He carried a lot of blame on himself.
And he was so angry. He was always a grouch, but Rain saw fire in him when Alchan started talking about the attack they were planning. He saw the way their king threw something, and it shattered against the wall, the only outlet he had for his anger.
They reached Alchan’s room, and Rain stepped to his door across the hall, waiting for instruction. If Alchan didn’t need him, he would go to his own room.
“Come on. You’re about to sit in on a very important conversation,” Alchan said, gesturing him to follow. Rain didn’t say anything, but he took a quick glance down the hall they came from and saw Luykas on his way. He ducked his head to get under Alchan’s arm.
“Does he have to be here for this?” Luykas asked as he entered.
“He’s my nemari. I’m supposed to be training him, and he’s supposed to be privy to all my secrets. By extension, he’s going to be privy to yours since I keep them for you.” Alchan’s tone didn’t leave much room for argument.
Rain found a corner and leaned into it, able to watch both of them. They were huge. They weren’t Matesh huge, but they were male Andinna, edging into the tall end for their people. They filled up the room, opposites and at the same time, twins. Rain had always found their looks fascinating, even as a child. Part of that, though, was that he liked knowing another mutt as he grew up, and that meant as a child, he was fascinated by Luykas, then Alchan by extension.
“What’s wrong?” The king didn’t waste time. Rain didn’t want to be in the room anymore.
“I’m itchy,” Luykas answered softly.
Whatever answer that meant, it made Alchan growl. Shivers ran down Rain’s spine, and goosebumps rose all over him. It was a terrifying sound—a feral growl he had never heard from him before.
“Has anything happened yet?” the king demanded.
“No, but it will eventually. The itch gets worse as we draw closer to the Empire. The moment my feet touch the soil, I know it’ll come quickly.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I think I’m going to see what happens,” Luykas sighed. “Which means I need to deal with the uncomfortable feeling until it’s finished. There’s no danger for me or anyone here, but it’s…” Luykas slid a glance at Rai
n.
“I understand. Well, for once, it isn’t Mave.” Alchan fell back onto his bed frame. He slept on the floor like most Andinna on the ship, but the bed frames were still good as seats and desks. “Today was concerning with her.”
“You noticed?” Luykas snorted. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you were pretty good at looking like you weren’t paying attention.”
“Fuck you. She nearly killed Nevyn of all people. Of course, I fucking saw it. Now we just need to decide if she’s stable enough—”
“She’s not crazy,” Rain cut in. Both of them slowly turned their heads to stare at him. Rain wanted to find a dark space and disappear. Not because either of them would hurt him, but he just wasn’t dominant enough for the weight of their stares. He wasn’t weak, but he knew his place. Even turning into a wyvern didn’t make him more dominant than either of them.
“Are you going to continue?” Alchan asked patiently, crossing his arms and kicking up a leg to listen. “Do you think she’s stable?”
“She is,” he answered, looking between them, making sure he didn’t meet either of them for eye contact longer than a few seconds. It wasn’t something he had to put too much thought into. He naturally didn’t want to meet their eyes. “She’s been through a lot…”
“Let’s just not kick her in the face,” Luykas offered. “She’s still fresh out of slavery, Alchan. This is the first real incident we’ve had with any of the trauma she went through while in Shadra’s grasp. That’s a good track record.”
“I agree, but I want you keeping a close eye on her emotional state, Luykas. We can’t have her slipping and killing one of ours. Maybe six months ago, I wouldn’t have minded if she gutted one of those immature, spoiled males, but now, I need all of them.”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on her. It’s all I do.” Luykas sighed, looking at Rain again. This time, Alchan didn’t let whatever was unsaid to remain that way.
“He wants to fuck her, get her out of his system, and move on from whatever he’s feeling,” Alchan explained. “I think.” He considered his brother for a moment, who slowly turned pink. “Or maybe he genuinely has feelings for her. Either way, that’s why most of my brother’s problems come from Mave.”
“Ah…I’m not getting involved with that.” Rain felt the need to say it, and he meant it. He wasn’t going to get in the middle of whatever Mave and Luykas were. The Company noticed. There was no way not to. They all saw how the bonded pair sparred against the lovers. They all saw the jokes they had started to tell each other. There was a friendship there, one that made Mat and Bryn watch carefully. It made Rain watch carefully as her adopted little brother, a title he still held dear.
I might watch carefully, but I’m not getting in the middle of it. There’s nothing in this world that will make me get in the middle of that.
“Thank you.” Luykas hit his brother on the leg, knocking it down. “So, there you have it. She’ll be fine. I’ll watch, Rain will watch her. Her males will probably keep a close eye on her now. We both know no one will be kicking her in the face again, though I think only Nevyn could get her in the position to do it. Are we done? Anything you want to go over for tonight?”
“Get some rest,” Alchan ordered, not visibly perturbed by his brother. “Rainev, stay for a bit. I might need you.”
Luykas gave Rain a sympathetic look before walking out. Alchan shifted and grabbed a book, beginning to read. Rain found a way to lean comfortably against the wall and waited. Eventually, Alchan would ask him for something, and he would have to go get it. Or answer a random question. Or just give Alchan someone to ramble his thoughts and ideas to, who didn’t talk back. That was the king’s most interesting quirk. He talked to himself and pretended he was talking to Rain. He voiced his thoughts as they came to him when no one was around.
That wasn’t what happened today, though. Alchan flipped through the pages, suddenly seeming annoyed. It didn’t last long before the male closed and dropped the book beside him.
“You understand why I want you to remain on the ship without me, right?”
“Yes, sir. I’m okay with my assignment. If you need the wyvern, I’ll be ready.”
“I don’t want to need it,” the king admitted. “If there was a way for me to put you in the assault and feel comfortable about it, I would. You deserve that. You deserve to be a warrior in your own capacity and not for a magic trick you inherited from your mother’s people.”
“Being a wyvern is my own capacity. It’s what I am—Andinna, a clan member who can shift into a beast. Both of those things are true. And my mother’s people fight in animal form as well as their human forms. I can too.” He shrugged. He would love to pick up a blade and fight more. It was what drove him to ask for training from Alchan, but he would also do whatever was necessary to win, to succeed not just for himself but for Alchan, Luykas, and the others.
“It also makes you a target,” Alchan reminded him. “Luykas and Zayden weren’t wrong about that when they first brought it to my attention. I agree with them, to a point. The Elvasi developed ways of taking wyverns out of the skies a long time ago. The only safe refuge for them was in Anden, where we only hunted them if there was no other option.”
“Do you think they’ll be able to take me out of the sky?” Rain frowned. “I’m not a beast, either. I’m still intelligent and can plan for those threats. You’re talking about their ballista, right? The big…crossbow thing.”
“Yes, and it doesn’t matter if they can hit you, it matters that they will probably try. Rainev, think about what you’ve done to them in wyvern form. You destroyed a considerable portion of their fleet while we were escaping Myrsten. You know, the mission to rescue you. Then you took a few of them on and saved the Company again on the road from Namur to home. Even if they haven’t by chance heard about Blackstone, and they have, they will have already prepared for you. They know I won’t be able to leave you behind or lose the chance to use you. You even the odds, even tip them in our balance.” He seemed worried. “So, I want you to swear something to me. You will not change into a wyvern unless your life or the lives of others truly depends on it, and preferably only under my orders.”
“I swear it,” Rain agreed immediately. “But I don’t think they’ll hit me.”
“I don’t think so, either. We’re attacking in the middle of the night. You’ll be a big but hard to see, very fast target if it happens, but I’m trying my best to be careful. I knew in Blackstone you wouldn’t be at risk, but I can’t guarantee that here.”
“We’re all at risk,” Rain reminded him, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t care about my safety. I chose to be a warrior. I chose to be in the Company, and when you offered me this role, I chose it as well.”
“Yes, but none of the others are seen as something that could win the coming war,” Alchan retorted. “You could. You could fly over their armies and burn them alive. We’re seen as capable warriors, you’re seen as a monster, a real threat. They will target you in a way they don’t target anyone else.”
“Do you have any faith in me?” Rain couldn’t believe Alchan was really trying to tell him he needed to be protected. “I thought—”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Alchan snarled. “What I won’t have is my best asset in this fight getting himself killed when he’s not needed. It’s not about faith. It’s about what’s best for the whole. You could save fifty Andinna tonight or five hundred in a year. Which do you choose?” Alchan didn’t move, but the subtle changes in his posture told Rain all he needed to know. He’d stupidly poked at the king too hard, questioned him too much. The male before him was willing to exert his will and fight to be the one who was right.
And he was right. Alchan had once said Rain didn’t understand what it meant to look after the whole or something like that. It had been a strange conversation, one that threw Rain for all sorts of loops, but now, it crept into the back of his mind.
“Five hundred,” he answered. He
wanted to say he was truthful, but if he had been honest, his answer would have been all of them. Fifty tonight and five hundred tomorrow—even if he died trying.
Damn sure can’t tell Alchan that. He would tie me to a post and leave me there, completely out of the fight unless I wanted to destroy the ship and…
Alchan had him backed into a metaphorical corner with an argument he couldn’t win.
“Sorry, sir.” Rain looked down respectfully, unable to bear the power behind the bedru’s eyes.
The king sighed heavily. “Go get something to eat. Rest up. We’re in for a long night.”
“Sir?” He couldn’t stop himself from looking back up. He was being dismissed already?
“Get something to eat, talk to your father, rest. I’m giving you a break.”
“Um.” He took a tentative step to the door. For months, he was there until Alchan called it quits and went to sleep. He woke up when his king did. Now, he was being told to get some rest? Now?
“You need to be fresh tonight. So do I. I won’t be up much longer. I’m going to try to get some sleep before nightfall.”
That made Rain relax. That meant this was a normal dismissal and not because he had questioned Alchan. Rain knew his place was tentative at all times. What was given to him—his new position, the respect that came from it, and the respect he would one day earn—could all be taken away. He wanted to work hard. He liked working hard, and it kept him away from the males he didn’t fit in with anymore, who had to leave him be because he was always with Alchan.
Rain had gotten a shield and didn’t want to give it up, even if Alchan didn’t understand that. And once his training was done, and he was titled, considered a fully trained warrior and everything that came with it, he would be strong enough, in every way, to protect himself.
He offered Alchan a small bow before leaving and found his way back to the kitchens. He was relieved to see his father was there, playing cards with Bryn again.
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