Accustomed

by Kyra Gregory

  The young man glanced elsewhere under his intense observation, walking over to the fireplace before getting onto his knees and heaving their shortened supply of logs into the fire. “I don’t wish to see my people suffer any longer,” he said. “Rebuilding homes will take time,” he said, “and nights here are cold.”

  Gyles hung his head. His heart rattled against his ribcage and the lack of food and the impeding exhaustion was enough to make him sick. With all his genius, he wondered why he ever thought moving away from Lionessa, into Evrad, would give him the break from death and despair that he so craved. Perhaps, in part, he thought that being in the presence of the cause was far worse than being in the presence of the result. How foolish he’d been, he thought now. “I’ll see to it that for as long as I’m well-treated here, as long as we work together and see to it that Azura does not reach our lands, that Queen Sybelle will never lay a harsh hand upon this country or its people.”

  Lukas looked over, his gaze both intense and relieved as he assessed him for his truthfulness. He eventually nodded, finishing with the fire before dusting his hands off in the trousers of his uniform.

  “I would stay here and read for a little while longer,” Gyles said, rubbing his temples as he settled back on the couch. “If you could have someone bring me some food, I’ll move on to other thoughts and see what I may do to best benefit both our countries.”

  Lukas swallowed thickly, his hands tucked behind his back as he bowed as far as he could go before making his way out of the room.

  Biting the inside of his cheek, Gyles held his breath before sighing, flipping over the journal once more before scanning the full pages of information.

  ***

  Sybelle hadn’t realised how dependent, and how comforting, she found Deros’s company until she found herself seeking him out. Anybody, including Gyles, were they there, would tell her it was because she didn’t trust him. It was furthest from the truth and so very accurate at the same time.

  It was when his brother had been dragged out into the Capital’s square for his execution on the wheel that she realised she hadn’t seen him in a while. She paced through the entirety of the palace, peeping into each and every room, all the while attempting not to look too suspicious. She didn’t find him anywhere and, not the half-wit that some expected him to be, Ewin had noticed and remarked that he hadn’t seen him in some time.

  As a place that had always brought her clarity, she made her way up the stairs to the highest tower of the palace and almost threw herself over the side, squinting in the sunlight as the breeze caused her hair to dance, searching for his figure amongst the crowd of people, half-thinking him to have gone and taken a front-row view. He was not there. But her attempt had borne fruit. On a balcony, some floors down, she found his familiar figure leaning over the bannister with his hands firmly planted onto the stone. She exhaled heavily, leaving the tower and marching through the corridors until she came to the room that would lead her out onto the balcony. She had the right mind to be angry, though for what exactly she wasn’t all too sure, but his profile had her promptly reconsider and her heart to leap inside her throat.

  “I was about to ask if you feel nothing for your brother, and his torture,” she whispered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, “but I need only take a glance at your face to think that you might.”

  “He’s only my brother by blood,” he replied, “and it can safely be said that he didn’t care to be as such either.”

  “And you?” she asked, glancing over to see him flinch at the sound of the question. Her words were punctuated by a scream of agony from down below, one that momentarily struck through the darkness of her heart to the tenderness beneath it. “Did you ever care for such a thing?”

  Deros half-smiled, exhaling softly, “Family could’ve been a wonderful thing,” he remarked, catching her gaze for only a second before he hid his feelings from her once more. “It’s a thing I’ll never know.”

  She hung her head, tucking a strand of fluttering hair behind her ear. “I’ll stop the executions for you,” she said. “You need only ask it of me and see it done.”

  “Certainly not,” he said, shaking his head immediately. “This is what war is. This comes with war and I know he’s only getting what he deserves for his part in it,” he continued.

  “And that scares you,” she said, turning away from the view to look at him.

  He brushed his thumb against his bottom lip as he determined the words that were about to escape him, glancing towards her, “When do I get what I deserve for my part in it?” She looked at him with furrowed brows, a smile drawing at the corners of her lips as she watched him crumble with thoughts that she didn’t even know he had. “I’ve held my breath for weeks, waiting to receive my own punishment for my actions, only to receive love and and affection instead.”

  “And that’s what troubles you?” she asked, inching towards him. “You’re troubled by the fact that I haven’t hurt you?”

  “When do I suffer for my actions?” Deros asked, his voice shaking. “When do I pay for my part in all of this?”

  She shook her head, hiding the roll of her eyes from him, “You will never have a measure of the pain he’s experiencing,” she said, “not if I have anything to say about it.”

  Deros shook his head, his crumbling becoming more and more apparent in his eyes, “Why not?”

  “Because you’ve already done enough,” she said, reaching to caress his cheek, only for him to jerk away, an action he only made in order to hurt himself. She shook her head, clearing it of thoughts, “Come with me,” she said. She wanted nothing more than to extend her hand to him, to bring him to follow her all the way to her chambers. But the order was enough and welcomed far more than another moment of physical contact. She slammed the door of her chambers shut with unrestrained frustration, an action that had him leaping in his own skin. He seemed to hold his breath as she approached, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders as she moved him to stand just where she wanted him to near the centre of her chambers.

  She sighed silently, reaching for the buttons on his jacket as she began to undo them with deft fingers. He took her hand, firm but cautious. “Please,” he said.

  She threw his hand off hers and glared at him from beneath her lashes, keeping him from interfering with her another time. She undid his jacket entirely, slipping it off his shoulders before doing the same with his shirt. He stood there, half bare to her. She hardly paid him another glance, reaching for a hand mirror from her dressing table before showing him his reflection. It was when she moved the hand mirror in line with the full length one behind him that he could see the scars of each and every lash upon his back that had been administered under her own instruction, in her dungeons at a time when she was filled with little more than hatred towards him. “Was that not enough punishment for you?” she asked him, her strong voice faked well when she felt nothing of the sort within herself. “Do you not recall your agony that night?”

  He closed his eyes, scrunching them shut, “It’s not enough,” he said.

  She dropped the hand mirror to the ground, grabbing him by the shoulders as she spun him around on the spot to face the full-length mirror. “And this?” she asked, digging her nails into the red, tender skin, close to the wound on his abdomen that he’d acquired the night he’d freed her. “Was this not enough punishment?”

  “It’s not enough,” Deros scoffed. “None of it is enough.” He turned himself around once more and she found herself face-to-face with the mere shadow of the man she knew. “My brother dies today, a man that I held very little love for, and, yet, I feel for his death,” he said. He dropped himself onto his knees, his chest rising and falling fast as his breaths grew uneven, “What of the pain you felt? You loved your brother with all your heart, you would start wars over him and end them just as quickly if you thought that it would bring him back. So, what of your pain? What of the pain you felt towards his death because of me?”

&n
bsp; She didn’t know what emotions showed on her face. She hardly knew what to say to him, only knowing that her heart was beating so fast that the sound of it was beginning to dizzy her, and that her hands had started to shake with his words.

  “I haven’t suffered enough for what I’ve done to you,” he said with a scoff, staring at the ground.

  She felt the stinging in the back of her eyes as she cast her gaze towards the ceiling, “Did you not suffer when you betrayed your father? Did you not suffer when you turned your back on all that you’d worked for in your life?”

  “It’s not enough,” he whispered, a tremor in his voice.

  “Then you’re right,” she said, dropping herself to her knees in front of him, “it will never be enough.” She took his dagger from its sheath at his side, grabbing the hilt and staring as the metal glimmered in the sunlight from the window. She took his hand in hers and placed the blade within it, closing his hand around it as she pulled it through, watching as a grimace crossed his features and he took a low, sharp intake of breath. “It will never be enough,” she reiterated. She dropped the blade to the ground and took his hand in both of hers, squeezing his hand shut before pressing it into the folds of her dress. She looked at him just as she’d gained his attention with her words. She broke out into a soft, helpless laugh, her eyes welling with tears, “It will never be enough because, no matter what I do to you, my love for you will always be there and you know it. For as long as it is I that inflicts pain upon you, you will just accept it.”

  He swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze to his wounded hand as he accepted her words. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

  She let his hand go, reaching to cup his face in both of her hands, “Will you not just forget about this?” she asked, almost desperately. “Will you not forget about all of this and just accept that you’ve redeemed yourself?”

  Deros scoffed, shaking his head, “Redemption,” he whispered. “There’s no such thing,” he said.

  Sybelle’s shoulders slackened. It was hopeless and, if his words were true, everything was hopeless. She leaned into him, throwing her arms around him while bringing him to bury his face in her neck. His good hand reached for her, grasping the back of her dress as he clung to her out of a desperation he never wished to confess to.

  CHAPTER 6

  A KNOCK ON the door of her chambers had Sybelle’s eyes opening. She stretched her legs along the sheets of her bed, feeling the heat of the summer sun on her crimson-coloured blankets. Another knock on the door, a slightly more impatient one, had Deros leaping up in fright, looking around the room in confusion as where he was dawned on him once more. “It’s just the door,” Sybelle said, sighing. She clambered out of bed on unsteady legs, adjusting her gown over herself as she dragged open the door. “What is it?” she asked, looking from Ellyn to the guard that had clearly summoned her.

  “A letter from the Kingdom of Evrad, your Majesty,” the guard said, handing her a letter sealed with wax, Gyles’s signature scribbled beside it. She slammed her door shut shortly after taking the letter into her hands, leaving her alone in Deros’s company as he slid his half-naked form out of the bed.

  He was groggy, like he’d hardly slept, and his head must’ve been pounding by the manner in which he held it between his hands. “What is it?” he asked, half-interested as her eyes scanned the page while pacing about her room.

  “It’s Gyles,” she replied, never taking her eyes off the letter. “He’s arrived safely in Evrad,” she said, placing a hand to her heart, “and he’s accepted the responsibility of maintaining it for as long as I need him to.”

  “It must be difficult, with his not knowing of anyone there,” Deros said.

  “A man, a guard, named Lukas Dren has been assisting him in making his way around and providing him with the answers to my questions,” she replied, folding the letter and placing it on her dressing table.

  Deros’s eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes filled with confusion as she approached him, “What questions do you have in regards to Evrad?” he asked.

  She bowed her head, hiding her smile as she extended her hands to cup his face in hers. “You needn’t worry about that,” she said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She stepped away from him once more, reaching for a wash cloth which she dipped into the icy basin of water, “As I said, my thoughts are my own for the moment.”

  “Yours and Gyles,” he clarified. “For you’ve made it apparent that you’ve told him of your plans,” he added, eyeing her from beneath his lashes.

  Sybelle looked over her shoulder as she brought the cloth away from her face, her damp skin shining in the sun light. She laughed at the sight of his displeasure, asking, “Are you jealous?”

  “Perhaps,” Deros replied, shrugging his shoulders. “But, perhaps that is part of my punishment. I cannot expect you to trust me in the same manner in which you trust him.”

  “It’s solely a different form of trust,” she said, scrubbing the back of her neck. “Neither trust is greater than the other.” She began to sway on her feet where she stood at the table and she settled herself into a chair, admiring her glowing skin in the mirror as the sunlight radiating into the room seemed to be the strongest it had been in a while.

  “On the subject of trust,” she began, looking at her lover’s reflection in the mirror as he ran his index finger over the wound on his hand, “what do you know of the man Gyles has been assisted by?”

  “Lukas?” Deros asked, glancing over with furrowed brows. “I cannot fault the man for anything other than being soft. He’s not high-ranking but he has a good moral compass; it doesn’t surprise me to hear he’s taken the initiative in keeping matters under control.”

  She nodded firmly, leaning back into her seat, “I’ll be sure to let him know,” she said. “I’m sure that, in a land full of strangers, he will find comfort in the knowledge that he has found a good guide.”

  Deros got to his feet, moving to stand at the basin where he dipped his hand into the water, watching it turn red as it broke down the dry blood over his wound. “You and Gyles are close,” he remarked. “Was there never anything between you?”

  Sybelle laughed openly, propping her head in her hand. “Me and Gyles? Goodness, no. In my dreams, perhaps.”

  Deros glanced over, smirking with a single raised eyebrow, “He wasn’t interested?”

  “Perhaps if I had been a man,” she replied, cocking her head back to show him her smile. “Are you jealous?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed together, unable to hide her amusement.”You know, there’s nothing more unattractive than a jealous man.”

  “I’m not jealous,” he replied, moving to stand behind her. He placed his hands on her armrests, leaning forward to kiss her forehead lightly. “Only curious as to how I got so lucky as to be the only man you’ve ever shared such company with.”

  She laughed, rolling her head to the side to hide her growing blush, “What can I say?” she asked, rhetorically. “I have very singular tastes.”

  He ran his hand through her hair, reaching to caress her cheek. “You must do,” he whispered.

  She laid there for a moment, enjoying the gentle ministrations of his fingers. The peace, the calm he lulled her in, was addictive. She’d thought such an effect to have disappeared the previous night but, to her surprise, and relief, it was here again, once more enticing her into the world she desired most; one where only his arms and touch existed to her. She exhaled softly, clasping his hand in hers.

  She braced herself, bringing herself to her feet. Immediately, she found herself leaning against the dressing table. “We don’t have time for much else,” she said, regretfully, manoeuvring herself into his arms. She pressed her head briefly against his chest, hearing the rhythmic thudding of his heartbeat. “I must respond to Gyles as soon as possible and send the messenger on his way,” she said.

  “I would like to speak with him also,” Deros said, running his fingers through her hair.

  “W
hat about?” She asked, looking up at him.

  “Nothing of great importance,” he said, his words hardly above a whisper.

  She nodded with unease, shifting in his embrace as she came to terms with the confusion she felt at the lack of a real reply to her question. She just about had it within her to force an answer out of him but resisted in favour of displaying trust. “Would you prefer to go to Evrad and speak with him there?” she asked, desperate to assist him with whatever dwelled upon his mind.

  Deros chuckled and he shook his head, his hands slipping to her shoulders, “No, no, certainly not,” he said, “I cannot find it within myself to leave your side, most certainly not with Azura breathing down Lionessa’s neck.”

  “Leave Azura to me,” Sybelle sighed, turning away from him. “If you feel you should return to Evrad, if you have business or other matters there that you would see to then you’re free to leave,” she said.

  Deros hung his head, staring at her back as she leaned over the basin at her dressing table. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked, tentatively. “If you require me to leave, for whatever it is, I’ll do as you wish,” he said.

  “Of course I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered, half looking over her shoulder. “But what I want is not solely what matters,” she said, bold and full of confidence, albeit with some regret.

  “It is to me,” Deros said, placing his hands upon her hips. His hot breath send a shiver down her spine and he leaned into her in response, “I’ll stay for as long as you want me to stay—and I’ll leave the moment you think that’s best for you.”

  Sybelle breathed out unsteadily, shifting her weight once more, “Please go and script your reply to Gyles,” she said, “I would have a messenger leave with both our replies as soon as possible.”