Page 45 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Beneath me was the strange attempt at a bed that the pixies had, a solid structure that was somehow soft as my body settled against it. I had the inclination that it was composed of compacted straw and leaves and feathers, but I didn’t have the energy to ask him.

“Yes,” I laughed. “It’s just a bruise, I’m fine.”

He reached forward, the tip of his fingers skimming the blooming of purples and blues that had blossomed over my face over night. There was something to his face, something not quite Killian in the way that it was dark and intense, sending multiple shivers across my body all originating from different emotions.

I had a feeling that he was supposed to be anywhere but here, in the guest-chambers of the Choilltean castle. After all that had happened in such a short time, there was likely some sort of important meeting that he had been called to. But he remained, half-seated on the edge of the bed, staring at me.

Finally, he swallowed. “I’m sorry that I left you unprotected.”

I waved him off, rolling my eyes. “You had a duty, Killian.”

Though I had known Killian for less than a week, there was something in me that called out to him. There was something beneath my skin that wanted to absorb every minute of conversation, that wanted to hear every experience that he had lived through in his long life.

More than anything, I just wanted to be around him. Maybe it was because I had spent so long feeling lonely and I had finally met someone who made that feeling melt away. It was as if when I was with him, the shadows could not reach me. Darkness could not seep in.

And I’d only be able to appreciate that for twenty-five more days.

As silence tried to stretch between us, Killian began to nod to himself. Not to me, not in response to what I had said, but to himself, like he had something to prove. His eyes left my face finally, pointing down to the soft material he sat on.

“I was only twenty-three when I met Raegan.”

The change of topic was abrupt and surprising to me, but I didn’t want a more of silence between us. That, and it looked like he was about to tell me about himself – which he had yet to do.

“Is that… is that young?”

“Old enough to handle a shovel.”

I nodded, as if I understood, but I didn’t. “A shovel? Not a sword? I thought you would have been born with one clutched in your hands.”

A sad chuckle fell from his lips as his shoulders curled forwards. “Not at all. I was not born to this life. In another one, I doubt I ever entered Raegan’s ceadan. But I did, because Raegan found me in the stables one day.”

“You worked in the stables?” I tried not to let my surprise leak off of my voice, but it did.

“Yes.” He chuckled again. “Raegan came strutting through there one day, arrogance sweltering his already far-too-big ego.”

That sounded like the Raegan I knew.

“I despised him at first, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s hard to believe.” My eyebrows showed as much. “You two are like brothers.”

“That was not always the case. He was ignorant, brash, and rude. His attitude was as foul as ever, and his manners were below that of the pig’s that I mucked out.”

I couldn’t help but to laugh. That description wasn’t so far off from the Raegan I knew, too.

“But as time went on, I came to learn that the poor-temper and snide arrogance was born of hurt. He was broken, and a young male with far too much power who had no idea how to cope.”

I said nothing. There was nothing for me to say. Whatever Killian was doing — admitting to — it seemed like he needed it to be heard. In a way, it was his guilt trying to justify what had happened yesterday. Not to me, because I didn’t blame him. But for himself.

“I still remember when he came by, a few weeks after the first day I saw him, and said only one thing to me. One measly thing spoken from the mouth of a boy-Prince, that somehow engrained itself within me and has never left my side.”

“What did he say?”

Killian tried his best impression of Raegan; bunched brows and furious scowl, deep voice capable of grating. “I could make something of you, if you’d like. Those hands were meant for acts of valor, not shovels.”

It was very Raegan — abrupt and blunt, almost insulting, but with a hidden kindness beneath it. I believed every word.

“You feel indebted to him?”