Page 172 of Winter Gods & Serpents

“What ever do you mean?” I asked, tidying my jacket that Kilian had almost peeled of my body.

Kilian stretched his neck and walked past Mal. “Yes, what do you mean, brother,” he said, tapping his shoulder with a palm before leaving Mal half hallucinating in his own head.

He rubbed his shoulder with a cringe. “Crescent moon, might his poor victims never experience the strength of his phalanges.”

I walked past him, planting a hand on his shoulder the same. “Crescent moon, aren’t his lovers blessed?” I flicked him a wink and left.

* * *

I had decided to let Nia accompany us there, I wanted to approach her, but my tongue had tied on each occasion. Forgiveness was one of those things that I had not asked very often, it felt foreign to me. I could not stand seeing how upset Nia was, I had really hurt her but until I calmed my own hurt I knew I would not be able to muster the words forgive me. I hated my pride, my issues with anger and my distrust, but at the same time they had become so familiar with me to the point it was difficult to put them aside. I had never learnt to apologise, perhaps this was the time.

Venzor was a short ride through Sable Abyss from Tenebrose, but I had taken the long road through Brogmere to avoid having my father track me. Lara would finally find home. We’d left her under safe oath of care, a bunch of golden dar for her expenses and a promise to recruit her once a warrior. I could not say it felt good to part with her, the ride afterward seemed empty. I hated goodbyes.

Cerelia, my grandmother had lived with us in Tenebrose but had moved after the attack to her home city. As Queen dowager she had helped my mother in her duties so that she could be present raising us, considering how my father had loaded her like a work mare. I had created respect for the woman, she had taken her son's side at all times but in the shadows always supported my mother. She was born of high blood, last child of the Lord of Venzor before Elias’s father ascended to take the surname and the title. Her and Moreen had never gotten along and had always thought of her son's choice in taking a consort dislikeable, let alone when she had found out the squid he had chosen amongst. Whilst she’d butted with the crone, she appeared to respect my mother. The night of the attack had been when my thoughts and like for her had burnt to ashes. Evil lays in caves but this one had laid hidden under pillars of mountains. All the games she had spun my mother round, making it seem as if my father and Moreen had done it, all the ways she had humiliated, stepped, and played her made me shake with rage.

The surge of remembrance of all those times, dressed in the crackling of the fire and the smell of burning flesh of that night, made me shut my eyes and pull my head down in a wince. My eyes had coated in black specks, my breathing rapid. Gods, not now. My trembling hands pulled Memphis to a halt. Dismounting, I took off behind bushes emptying my stomach raw. This was why I never had breakfast. Don’t run, please don’t run. Don’t take off, gods, please keep me still. I stood kneeling on the ground, gathering my breathing and my shaking limbs.

Four shadows halted behind the bush. I had no time to feel embarrassment as another round pulsed from me. I stood up, dragging my sleeve to wipe the sweat coating my temples and forehead. I wished to have kept my eyes down and not met the four pairs of heavy stares on me, now I was embarrassed enough that a flush felt creeping in my face and ears.

Kilian reached into his pocket and approached me.

“Ah, of course you fold an embroidered handkerchief on your pocket, adorable. Does it have your initials?” He startled me still and silent when he gripped my jaw with one hand and with the other wiping my mouth with the piece of neatly folded cloth. I had just emptied my gut, but filthy thoughts filled my head. Now if he could only dip a bit lower and press his plump arse lips to mine that would be genial. I shut my eyes in a long sigh, what was wrong with me? Completely in my defence, the fault was his. How could anyone look, behave, speak, and think like him. Just why did it have to be someone from the wretched side of the Highwall. So I was twisted after all. Anyone, I could put my eyes on anyone and have them, did it have to be this one? There was another truth in wanting him; I wanted to have him. It was no longer about need; it was about satiating that need.

Cai handed me a bottle of water. I cringed shaking my head and pushing it away.

“Drink or I will make you,” Kilian ordered grabbing the bottle from him.

I tilted my head to him in the position he held it a few moments ago. “Oh yes, I’ll take option two.” And just like that my mind had mixed with my line of thought.

He scoffed. “Ridiculous woman, drink,” he ordered sternly, wrapping my hand around the bottle before he leaned over to my ear slightly. “Provoke me some more and I might use my grip to hold your pretty face still for something else, and make your tongue of steel turn to butter. Enough provoking me—enough provoking me in public.”

I spat the water forward and hit my chest repeatedly with my hand, my lungs erupted in coughing fits. Sweet gods. I ran my sleeve over my mouth. “I don’t know why you think I would be opposed to that.”

He suppressed a smile and threw me a side look that made me shiver. “Enough with the flirts and that hair thing.”

“What hair thing?” I bated my lashes, running my finger through my hair dragging it to one side.

He sighed. “I give up with you.”

“But no,” I sulked. “Play with me Adriatian, I’m bored.”

He shook his head, huffing a soft laugh and then pointed his head to the horses. We silently walked back. “What made you sick?” he asked.

“My head,” I confessed with no restraint.

He halted turning fully to me. “One of us could go, we can retreat, you don’t have to go there. If she won’t corporate I will make her cooperate, stay.”

“I owe her a visit in substitute for her funeral that I won’t attend.”

His brows pinched together, please gods don’t bring back face number three. “Is it that bad?”

I snorted. “The mother serpent is up to par with my father and your King.”

His features wavered and a gut lurching feel tightened my stomach. “Snow,” he spoke in what I would call a soft winter breeze, soft, cold but not chilling.

I felt myself tense, automatically reacting to that reaction. “Don’t pull that one, Kilian. I told you I hate it, out of all, you and your kind don’t get to give that to me,” I spat pointing at his face.

He straightened, temples flaring and that tense dimple in show. He was angry—angry at me. “I told you it isn’t pity.”