Page 164 of Winter Gods & Serpents

Chapter 30

Enemies and Allies

Kilian

Enemy. It was a title I had deserved but why did my head not want to accept it, especially now. Kil. I had enjoyed that more than I should. A smile rose on my lips, absently directed to myself remembering her reaction from my words. I couldn’t keep it in, she’d always pay no mind to my words but yesterday I’d seen that flash in her eyes as she’d said my name. Thoughts plagued my head and slowed my limbs as I put on my clothes.

Sun had sunk down. The grey clouds helped the evening appear darker sooner and enveloped the white crusted lands in vain. Silent lightning intercepted the grey darkness, it had become wonted these past few days, the constant storm. I wondered why it never drew upon us, all the thunder. Why did it only hovered above, unreleased?

Mal entered the room as I was about to put my jacket on. He plopped in his bed, shadows of exhaustion hovering him. “She is by the training pits.”

I blinked confused at him. “At this hour?”

He let out a loud sight. “She has been there since me and Cai took over this morning.”

“All day?”

“All day, nonstop. The mana of a titan that woman has. Reminds me of a certain bastard we called father.”

The irresponsible man children looking after her were drawing my short sticks of anger quite often lately. “And you didn’t care to drag her for rest or a meal?” I said, kicking his leg to pass by. Him and Caiden should have not been arranged together to guard Snow, they were one like the other. Childish, and indulging in Snow’s antics—dangerous antics even. For Mal, these were repeated patterns of actions—how many times I had covered for those damned actions of his. I admired at the same time loathed the way he perceived life.

He scoffed at my words. “Do you think we didn’t try? Do we know the same princess? Cai said it’s muscle memory for her. Same as it is for us. We would not eat for days too, Kil, forgotten on the training courts till we had perfectly executed what father expected of us,” he said, sitting himself up.

“It was how he was raised too. It is something I can never blame him for, wanting to raise us to be strong and able enough to handle ourselves in the position we are.”

“I would call it something else, brother, something on the lines of child abuse.”

“Blame whose son you are not how he raised you, it is not wrong what he tried to make of us, and he well achieved it. If I were you,” I said, throwing him a pillow. “I’d be a little less partial to the hate you created for our father.” I’d never try to justify our father and his actions, never what he did to Mal, but it was inevitable, the path we were to follow would eventually lead us to the lesson of being strong and undefeated. I was just grateful we didn’t have to learn it in a way that would have us lose to it, standing from a fall is harder than being taught you could fall. He had me—Mal always had me and I’d never let him out of my sight, I’d protect him with all I had—the best I had.

“Would you say the same for what was done to her? You never seem partial to the hate she has for hers, ours was not far worse.”

I laughed. “Are you comparing Silas to our father?”

“Answer me brother, don’t duck your response.” He chucked the pillow back at me. “Why are you not partial to what was done to her? I have heard you almost every night since that day from the funeral, mumble and toss at how he treated her.”

He had not tried to teach her, he’d tried to break her and piece her onto an unfeeling marred being of pain and rage. “You are trying to get somewhere you will never get, Mal,” I said, knowing what chain of thought he was trying to attach me too.

He grinned. “Am I? Denial, has it come with old age?” He observed me for a few moments and a sly smirk rose in his face, twitching his eyes in half-moons of satisfaction.

I pursed my lips, concentrating to put my boots on. “Not the slightest idea what you are on about, but I’ve never been one to want to break your heart and tell you of your wild imagination. I even let you believe for eight years that the Spring Oak of Sidra doesn’t really visits children on the equinox to leave them the first fruit of the season.” Mal was quite devastated on the eighth year of his life when he found Driada leaving cherries on his window sill instead of Verob the Oak.

He laughed, probably relieving the memory. “They suit you brother,” he said, motioning his hand in circles around me, towards my shadows. “Or are those my imagination too? Verob the Oak I never saw, but those,” he paused and clicked his tongue, “hard to miss.”

I tightened my scabbards and threw him a warning look before I left toward the pits.

I heard the clanging of swords, heavy breaths and grunts of the unfortunate soul taking on Snow. Before I reached her, Nia’s figure came to sight standing behind a pillar observing her friend from a distance, hidden. This was not right, I wanted to tell her what Snow had said but that was her truth, not mine. I felt for Nia, but I had faith Snow would make the move to reach her friend.

“She will come around,” I offered, planting my hand on her shoulder. Her face wore a grim expression, but she nodded.

“The other night we saw a dark crafter, presumably her father’s work. They were transporting a chest of some sort with a Solaryan crest. A woman, tall, short red hair, two marks; one across her forehead and the other to her neck. Anything you have seen during meetings?” I asked Nia, curious from the night before. From what I heard Snow had presumed her dead, what was her business back to Silas’s court and why was it concerning Snow? How did it affect her plans?

Nia took a moment assessing my request, but she shook her head. “No, I haven't. I will look into it,” she assured before leaving. Snow had not spoken to her about it, neither had she let Caiden do that. Sigh, when would she let her guard down and speak to her friend?

The training pits were countless, stretching further than the eye could trace but only one was lit up by torches—the only one from where sound came.

Caiden stood from the benches taking notice of me, dark shadows had formed under his eyes. “I don’t care if you have to drag or knock her unconscious, get her to rest.” he asked breathless, walking past me.

Lara, the little girl from Brogmere, sat by the benches too, tracing every move of hers. Snow had kept her word, even training Lara a few times herself, the rest it had been left to us, she was a quick learner and very eager.