“Have you been well?” Krishani asked.
Pux fidgeted and looked away. “I work with the animals all day.”
He nodded. “You will be able to return home soon.”
Pux shook his head. “I like the animals. They’re much better than humans.” He smiled and the devilishness in his spirit seemed to poke out of the clouds beleaguering his disposition.
Krishani almost felt like he was at home when Pux smiled like that. They were interrupted by a tray of bread landing on the table. He grabbed a piece. Pux grabbed two and began gobbling them down. A well of happiness mushroomed in Krishani’s chest. The feeling was both foreign and bitter. He liked seeing Pux like this, the way Kaliel would have wanted to see him. He wasn’t sure what she would think of Mallorn, however. The elven had become Tulsen’s consul. Krishani feared what else had happened while he was fighting off Vultures and collecting Flames.
32
The Disease
Krishani descended the steps and rounded the castle. He couldn’t take it anymore. The hall was stifling, his heart a stone in his chest. Klavotesi spent the last few hours sharing battle strategies. Mallorn told stories of his times on Talanisdir, and the others offered their most gruesome tales. Everyone had a different idea about the battle and none of them gave Krishani a chance to speak. They seemed convinced he was useless.
Krishani skirted the dirt path, patches of grass jutting out of the mud. The castle walls were high and thick with stone. He moved towards taller trees in the midst of the compound. Their leaves cast shadows across the ground as the sun slunk towards the horizon. Cabins lined the walkways that split off the main road, parts of them hidden between the trees. Most of them had barrels and wooden boxes on the porches. There was no cozy feeling to them. The cabins looked like they had been built quickly and without any thought to location. Terra was like that—everything haphazardly scattered across the land like nobody cared enough to make it beautiful. It was one of the things Krishani would never get used to—a dead land bereft of a voice. He stifled a breath as he continued towards the back of the castle and noticed a cabin situated on a tower. It could have been a watchtower for all he was concerned. Stairs led to a wide porch and triangular roof. It overlooked the rest of the village. It was too big to be a watchtower and he wondered who would live up there. At the foot of the house, thick wooden logs created a reliquary, inside of which were stacks of firewood. He continued down the trail, past bushes poking out from the stone walls, more trees on the left. The trail sloped downwards and led to a narrow lake. Krishani traced the edges of it. The banks led to walls ensnaring the compound. The walls cut the lake off, stone forming a narrow bridge. The lake was shabby. It narrowed near the castle and widened near the edges of the stone walls. Sun glinted off the water, casting flecks of light into his eyes. Krishani held up a hand and squinted.
“Beauty hides in plain sight on Terra,” Shimma said, climbing down the slope. She stood on the shore beside him.
He sighed. “You mean it mimics beauty and fails in comparison.”
“I suppose.” She followed as he climbed the muddy shore littered with intermittent patches of grass.
“I’m sorry about what happened on the beach.” He wasn’t sure if that’s what she was coming to talk about. He wanted to be alone because all this talk about strategy was giving him a headache. They talked about it like they were going to beat Crestaos, and Krishani knew it was impossible.
“Oh,” Shimma said. Her eyes trailed over him and he became self-conscious. He looked at his breeches and tunic. For once he wasn’t wearing a cloak and he felt naked without it. Her fingers spread between the blades of grass as she sat and looked at the lake. “I’d like to forget it.”
Krishani hung his head. “I can’t.” He kicked the grass, lacing his fingers together as he pressed them against the back of his head. He turned in a circle, his mind attempting to fathom the battle awaiting him. His time on Avristar felt like eons ago, the days of his youth so far behind.
“Everything has changed,” Shimma whispered.
Krishani pulled his hands in front of his face. The curse was ever present on his right hand, sparks of it coiling down his left arm. He felt it in the bottom of his left foot, faint, but there, changing him. The only thing the disease hadn’t taken was his heart. Krishani thought the Vultures would save that for last.
“It’ll be over soon.” He sat.
Shimma opened her mouth but closed it again. They sat in silence, saying nothing for a long time. “I’ve killed before, men who deserved it. I don’t know if Rand deserved it.”
Krishani faltered, brought back to the thought of the elder on the beach. He didn’t want the weight of what the Ferryman was and what he fought to be a secret anymore. He remembered how scared Shimma looked when he killed Rand. For her that was rare.
“If I tell you what happened, will you be satisfied?”
Shimma sighed. “I barely recognize you anymore. You’re different without her.”
The words stung and Krishani ran his blackened hand through his hair. He pieced together the words in his head, but all of them sounded wrong.
“I don’t understand what you are,” she said.
Krishani looked at the water; wind rippled across it, shallow waves crinkling the smooth surface. “Rand called me death. I wanted him to see that I can’t choose who I am, or what I am. The Vultures will exist whether I do or not.”
Shimma frowned, confusion crossing her blue eyes. In the light of the afternoon sun she looked older but not wiser. Her blonde hair frizzed and fell over her shoulders like a limp rag. Her cheeks were pallid, her lips chapped like she had been incessantly chewing on them.
“It was only you and Rand on the beach,” she said.
Krishani laughed, but it was only out of irony. “You would see them if you were dying. Or if you were me.” He glanced at her, his eyes full of sorrow. “You felt them, though, right?”
Shimma pulled her eyebrows together. “The cold?”
Krishani nodded. “Rand was right. I did bring death, but the Vultures brought something worse. They’re soul-eaters.” The words felt wrong as they passed his lips and he scowled.
Shimma shivered and rubbed her arms. “I hope I never feel that cold again.”
Krishani shifted uncomfortably. The Vultures would be there when Crestaos came. They’d sweep in to tempt him, take him to their numb, shadowy, graveless place. His eyes skimmed over the water as he tried to soak in the last beautiful thing he figured he would ever see. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters.”
“What do you mean?”
He held his right hand out and she stared at it. “This isn’t a plague.”
Shimma scowled, confused. Her eyes met his for a brief moment. He dropped his gaze, tracing the blades of grass. “I’ll be a Vulture when this battle is over,” he whispered, his tone flat.
Shimma balked, swaying in the grass and putting her hands flat on the ground to stop herself. She glanced at him, her eyes knifing into him. “What was it about her that has you so willing to throw your life away?”
Krishani didn’t look at her. He rested his forearms on his knees and glanced at the sinking sun. A warm wind kicked up, tousling his hair and rippling the water. He didn’t want to talk about Kaliel, not when he knew he’d never be with her again. Not when he knew it didn’t matter what he was anymore. He wasn’t supposed to be with her in the first place. Their meeting at the waterfall was a mistake, everything including the explosions and the snow. He gritted his teeth and thought about what Tulsen said. Ten thousand years and she wouldn’t know who he was. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Can you stop it?”
Krishani stood and brushed himself off. He looked at the sky. Shimma jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm but he ripped it away, the familiar sting of repulsion hitting him.
“Answer me. Can you stop it?” Her voice was an octave higher than usual.
“I don’t think I want
to stop it.”
It was the admittance that made him feel cold inside as he left her standing on the mound shocked and scared. There was honor in fighting for Kaliel, in facing Crestaos and trying to defeat him. No honor lay in succumbing to the will of the Vultures. Once he was one of them, it wouldn’t matter if the Valtanyana lived or died, if Morgana awakened the others and used them to bring Tor to his knees. There would never be peace again.
33
Marry the Land
Krishani pressed his back against the cave wall. Kaliel stretched onto her back in the grass. She pulled her hands over her head and pointed her toes, her body pulling taut. She relaxed and rolled onto her side, her eyes digging into his. He tensed as she crawled over to him. His knees had been hunched against his chest, but he spread them out as her head found his lap. She nestled her thick white curls into his thigh. Shivers ran up his spine and he involuntarily sucked in a breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. She tilted her face sideways, and from this angle he could see the slight color in her cheeks, the tempting curvature of her rosy lips.
He smiled and let out an exasperated sigh. “I was wondering how to ask you something.”
She furrowed her brow and pushed her elbows into the grass, pulling herself up so her face was close to his beige tunic, his stomach muscles clenched underneath the fabric. She had no idea how attracted he was to her, and when she moved like that, it was hard to stifle his want. Her other hand traced a line overtop the fabric from his collarbone down. He pressed his lips together, avoiding the urge to push her into the grass.
The question was really important.
“What question is that?” She eyed his tunic like she wanted to slip her hands underneath it and explore the skin beneath. Krishani gently covered her hand with his own pale, calloused one, the knuckles like rigid mountaintops across his skin. He went to put her hand at her side and she sat up, her face looming inches from his. He blinked to remember what he had been talking about, the scent of lavender and honeysuckle wafting off her breath. He resumed his candor and pulled her into his lap, his fingers tracing along the outlines of her ivory dress.
“I want to ask you to marry me, but I don’t know if I should be asking you or the Gatekeeper.” His hand paused on the seam of her dress, his fingers trailing along the outline of her breasts. Her heartbeat quickened under his palm. Her eyes said the same thing—wild passion, fear, wonder.
She smiled her usual faint smile, her mouth opened slightly in shock. “Just ask me.”
“Would you marry me? If you could?” Krishani let the words tumble out before he lost the courage to say them at all. It was hard to talk about the future with Kaliel; it didn’t feel like they would have one that would belong to them.
“Even if I couldn’t, I would,” she said, tucking her chin in, color spattering her cheeks. “I won’t marry the land,” she said. “I refuse to. And I won’t ask the Gatekeeper for permission.” She had fire in her green eyes, fire unlike the Flame’s fire, unlike anything Krishani had seen in her before. She was so determined, and so sad, like she knew this was wishful thinking but didn’t want to admit it.
Neither did he.
Her eyes locked on his. “All of me belongs to you and you know it.”
Krishani didn’t have the words to respond. Instead he cupped her face, pulled her against him and kissed her with all the passion he was holding back. He smiled against her lips as her hands found the hem of his tunic. She shifted her weight and pulled it over his head, his arms twisting upwards until he thrust the clothes onto the grass. She went to kiss him again and his hands found the knot behind her neck, the one holding her dress tight against her chest. He unraveled the knot. She put her lips to his as the fabric fell away, her body pressed against his bare chest. He pushed her gently into the grass. He was too aware of the fact there was nothing but her undergarments and his breeches between them, but he didn’t care. He wanted to savor her sweetness until the harsh reality cast them out of paradise.
He made a fiery trail of kisses down her collar bone, his lips nipping at the tip of her breasts. She squirmed under him and let out a surprised breath as his hand pushed her dress north while he lips continued moving south. He tarried along her skin, eliciting delicious ripples of shivers from her as he reached her inner thigh, running the tip of his tongue along the smooth skin. She moaned loud and he smirked. If they tried this in the tower, she wouldn’t be able to hold in her pleasured screams. He inched forward, bracing his hand on her knee as he tasted her. The lands slipped away, the aphrodisiac making his mind blank. Primal passion invaded his mind, pushing every bad thought away. Her hands clamped on his hair as another delirious sigh ripped through the cave. He heard a timid voice far away, his tongue stroking slow circles on her smooth skin. He was blind and deaf to everything, intrinsically immersed in her sex, heady with the taste of her.
One thing he knew that she didn’t was there was no way the land would ever let him marry her.
Not if it could find a way to stop it.
34
Nothing Left
The rooms were small. Shimma entered, finding Kazza stretched out on the cot, trying to get comfortable. Her sister looked like she was ready to pass out from stress. Kazza always loathed the thought of battle, but she wasn’t going to flee.
Shimma glanced around the room. Three cots lined the walls, a candle sat on a small table in the corner illuminated the room. A square window had been cut into the stones above the only empty bed. Kuruny was on the bed to the far left of the room, Kazza opposite her. Shimma crossed the floor and sat.
“We have a problem,” she said, rubbing her hands along her dress.
“On the contrary, we were successful in Nimphalls,” Kazza said, propping herself on her elbow.
Shimma’s eyes flickered over to Kuruny. She was out cold. “Do you mean to say . . . ”
Kazza nodded. “We broke the hex.”
“Who were the men following you?”
“Nobody important. Guards. We had days on Nimphalls.” She didn’t need to explain they had taken the blood back and performed the transfusion. Kuruny was probably exhausted from the process.
“Krishani is slipping away,” Shimma whispered, ignoring Kazza’s comment.
“I don’t care about him.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“We can’t leave until she has her strength back.”
“Are you planning on fighting in the battle?”
Kazza gave her sister a perplexed look. “You care about him, don’t you?”
Shimma glanced at her hands and made a face. She hated to admit she had spent enough time with Krishani to know what kind of person he was. There were emotions, but they were murky. She shook her head. “I don’t know how I feel.”
Kazza scoffed and crossed her arms. “You have feelings for him.”
“I’m afraid of him, too.” Knots cinched her stomach muscles as she thought about the beach and the night she found him with his shirt off, but the disease made her shudder.
“Stop thinking about him,” Kazza snapped. She glanced at the door. “I bargained with the dragon riders to allow us to return. As long as we stay on their side, we won’t be harmed.”
“They can’t be trusted!” She balled her hands into fists. “I won’t return with you.”
“You will go where I say you go, sister.”
Kuruny stirred and turned over, but didn’t wake. Shimma felt like Kuruny was the glue holding them together. It was true Shimma was the youngest and that Kazza was the oldest by a technicality, but when Kuruny was immortal, she was the strongest, and that counted for everything.
“Kuruny won’t let them touch her again. She won’t be so foolish,” Kazza said.
“I don’t want to hear this,” Shimma said, her voice shaking. She moved to the door and put a hand on it. “Join me in the battle, if you will.” She slipped into the halls.
Kuruny’s eyes snapped opened. She looked a
t Kazza and flinched when the door slammed shut. “What happened?”
Kazza smirked at her. “Our little sister is in love with the Ferryman and is going to go find her death by a sword.”
Kuruny bolted upright and tried to pull together consciousness. Her limbs felt limp and she winced at the heaviness in her head. There was a river of strength flowing underneath the soreness as she stared at the bruises along her arms. “That can’t be.”
“It is so.”
“You did something to me.” Kuruny assessed herself, lifting her dress and finding splotchy purple marks staining her legs. The last thing she remembered was being shown to her room. She was bludgeoned by something, and everything went dark after that. She groaned. “You performed the transfusion.”
Kazza smiled. “I knocked you out first.”
Kuruny buried her hands in her lap. “Thank you,” she said through them even though she felt horrible.
“I want to leave before the battle begins.”
Kuruny’s head swam with vertigo and indecision. She shook it back and forth and felt wobbly. “I won’t leave Krishani to fight on his own.”
“He has an army, we aren’t needed.”
Kuruny sighed. “I saw what he did to the man on the beach. I would rather be loyal to him than hunted.”
Kazza crossed her arms.
Pux sat at the table in the main hall, eating the final scraps of bread and picking chicken off leftover bones. He was famished, the day’s work cutting into him, making his muscles ache. The past few weeks had been disdainful. He spent most days with the chickens and pigs, chasing them, cleaning up after them, harvesting eggs. He was seen as nothing more than a helping hand by most of the villagers. It was a welcomed difference to the way he had been treated in Avristar. Home was so far away he couldn’t remember how it smelled. The Tavesin compound was disgusting, pigs were smelly, chickens were prissy, and droppings were everywhere.
JUSTICE (The Ferryman + The Flame #2) Page 26