Page 73 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

He crossed the distance between us in two steps, towering over me with that glacial stare. He breathed furiously, our chests meeting each time, and I backed away. He chased my steps till my back was to the wall, blocking me from escaping the closeness that was beginning to become the reason for my insanity. “Never have I seen a grown man, steeled by war and suffering, a general that legends speak of in high praises of a callous heart that spared none, crying because he couldn’t wake his daughter when she was screaming bloody death. Since you do not wish to answer me, I’ll answer for you.” He rested a hand on the wall and bent down a little to bite the words to my face, “No, you don’t seem to care at all.”

How dare he? How dare he hold these moral lectures when he was the most immoral one? “Are you quite done?”

He straightened and that gaze turned hooded and scrutinous. “You want to do reckless shit on your own, be on your own,” he said, backing away. “I break oath for a night, she might stay in her home.” The seal on our hands greyed a little, and then he faded out of sight.

I scoffed at the emptiness I was left in. This was absurd. Did he think this was some sort of punishment for me? Why was everyone acting like I needed any help?

A small noise from the corner of my room pulled my attention and Pen stood there, on the corner. “I don’t think anyone quite saw me when I entered.”

With a groan, I dropped to my bed.

“He was right, you know,” she said quietly, unravelling the curtain ties to block the cold wind of Olympian nights from blowing in.

“Run, carrot, because I’m itching to skin something.”

“Skin me all you want, but you were screaming so hard that Taren was almost set on fire from lightning,” she huffed before running out of the room.

Chapter eleven

Ver

Snowlin

And a punishment it had been. Two nights now that he had let me stay in Olympia. Two nights that I had not shut my eyes not even once—not for a full minute.

The dining room stood empty as I sat there all on my own, without touching my food. My hunger had subdued since my return to Olympia, and everything tasted beyond bland. The memory elixir Visha gave me had done more damage than help. My nightmares were not only of the night of the attack, but they were also of my mother being beaten to her death. Why had the elixir shown me that particular memory out of them all? It made no sense.

Everyone was out running errands and carrying my orders, Malik had chosen to accompany Cai on Myrdur territory after they had sighted a new group of Isjordian soldiers making their way through the ruins. Visha remained hunched over my library in search for a tracing spell to uncover my siblings, blinding herself to the countless words she was reading with no rest whatsoever. I’d sent Memphis with Nia to Eldmoor in another attempt to discreetly infiltrate Red Coven in search of any tell that Urinthia was aiding my father. They were known as lovers of chaos and disturbance—they might be enjoying all that is happening or even recreate my biggest fear and join my father in his march of death across the continent.

I dropped my head to the table, tired from all the disturbing thoughts and hit the cold hard surface several times in frustration. Never had I felt more useless. There were too many loose threads, and my brain was steaming from burnout.

“Usually, it takes you less contemplating and no head banging to eat. What is the matter, love?” The rough, cold voice startled me upright in my seat, the backrest meeting my head with a bang. He’d kept distance from me since two nights ago when he brought Alaric to shake me out of the memory. Like he was mad at me. Like he could even be mad at me in his position.

Rubbing one hand over my red aching forehead and another at the bump forming on the back of my head, I glowered at him.

Kilian stood at the archway, studying me and the untouched food that laid in front of me, his eyes roamed about the large dark dining room and he approached to take the seat next to mine.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, confused at his sudden appearance.

“Why are you not eating?” he questioned sternly, and I narrowed my eyes, annoyed. With a heavy and almost angry sigh, he leaned back. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Like the dead,” I said, shovelling food in my mouth.

“And?” he asked, filling me a cup of water. “Did you reflect on your wrongs?”

My nerves burned, but I kept calm. “I did. I’ve decided to be good now. My soul is all glued back together, I’ve taken an open spot up in the mountains with the monks and pray for salvation, taken few more knitting classes to knit scarves for the less fortunate and no more premarital fucking. I’ve decided to eat my greens, too. It was enlightening, really.” I grabbed something on the plate and bit on it only to spit it out after. A carrot. I shuddered.

He smiled and grabbed a slice of the orange vegetable from my plate. “You are married. And greens, huh? That’s a good girl.”

My tongue bled from how hard I’d bit onto it. Idiot. “Why are you here?”

“Because I know you missed me.”

My jaw was locked tight. “To death. Truly.”

He smiled and took another one of my carrots. “Visha sent a message for me, something along the lines that I am wanted here. By you.”

“What?” Just as I was to argue back to his claims, Visha barged inside the room, half panting, her shimmering red coils still springing back and forth from the force of her run. Visha didn’t run. Visha didn’t rush. Visha didn’t even blink if it wasn’t utmost necessary. All alarms of caution rose.