Zavida

Zavida

While the Samhain Ball swirls around us in a decadent parade of power and prestige, Kit’s face is pale, his eyes wide with the terror that only comes from having one’s nerves frayed to breaking. My heart lurches for him; he’s stood his ground like a titan tonight, but even titans have their limits.

He certainly outshines me with his stubborn refusal to let people hurt those around him.

“We should get him out of here,” I murmur to Oriel.

The crow shifter slips his arm around Kit’s trembling frame. The heat generated from him and Jasper’s kiss still burns in the air, as well as their brazen challenge to the King of Hell’s authority. I feel the weight of every eye upon us, the whispers that will undoubtedly follow, but none of it matters. Not when Kit’s well-being is on the line.

Jasper’s actions were reckless, possibly dangerous, but also undeniably bold—very much like Kit himself. It takes guts to speak truth to power, more so for someone whose past haunts them like an unshakeable shadow. I glance at Kit, his fancy attire now a stark contrast to his worn-down expression, and I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of respect. Despite everything, he defended me to Genie and handled the Bloodstones with a finesse that belied his unemerged status. His bravery is astounding; his resilience, even more so.

As much as he and Jasper clash, they are more alike than either would like to admit.

“Thanks, Zav,” Kit manages, his voice barely above a whisper, the gratitude in his eyes hitting me harder than any spell could. “And you, too, O.”

“Anytime,” I reply, trying to offer him a reassuring smile.

Slash moves ahead, broad shoulders parting the crowd like a ship’s prow cleaving through dark waters. He’s taking the lead, guiding us toward the edge of the ballroom, where a hidden panel waits just beyond the prying eyes of our peers.

How did he know this was even here?

“Inside,” Slash says, pressing a disguised button that makes the panel slide open with a soft click. He scoops Kit up with ease, his movements gentle despite the urgency etched into his features. We slip inside, away from the cacophony of the ball, and find ourselves in a small sitting room that promises sanctuary. The walls are lined with brocade wallpaper, the settee plush and inviting—a stark contrast to the chaos we’ve left behind.

As Slash lays Kit down, I can’t help but marvel at the foster kid who’s become so much more to us than a floormate we didn’t ask for. His powers may not have emerged, but his spirit? It’s as if he’s conjuring courage from some inexhaustible source within him, facing off against actual demons that would make seasoned warriors balk. Still, he had the presence of mind to ask Oriel to whisk him away before he fully broke down. My admiration swells, mixed with a protective urge that has me clenching my fists.

I’ve never felt like I should help take care of someone before—only that I needed someone to take care of me.

“Rest now,” I tell Kit softly, standing guard by his side. “We’ve got you.”

In the quiet of the hidden room, I watch over him, feeling the echo of his anxiety like a chill in the air. If only I could do more for him…. But for now, this will have to be enough—this moment of respite, this silent vow of support. As Kit’s chest rises and falls with each slow breath, I silently promise to stand by him, just as he stood up for all of us.

Kit lies still for about fifteen minutes while the rest of us give him time to recuperate. I’m fairly amazed that all my brothers are staying quiet while we watch this guy bring himself off the edge of the cliff. Even Jasper is silent as he stares into the distance, looking contemplative.

“Seriously, Slash, how did you know about this place?” Oriel’s question breaks the tension that’s been coiling tighter with each of Kit’s shallow breaths.

Jasper’s response comes from a shadowed corner, his voice low but clear. “We’ve memorized every nook and cranny of Discordia. Knowledge is power—even more so with hidden alcoves.”

Slipping into the role of caretaker with a surprising ease, Slash gently settles at the end of the settee to watch the new demon carefully. The elaborate room, with its gilded edges and soft lighting, seems to fold around us, silencing the world beyond its secret walls. I’m actually more comfortable here than I was out there, so I will not complain in the slightest.

Maybe we all needed this break.

Kit sprawls out, limbs loose and askew, the picture of exhaustion and relief. X saunters closer, adjusting the supine guy’s attire with a flourish, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they catch Kit’s gaze.

“Mind your modesty, sir,” they tease, earning a strained half-smile from Kit.

“You know, I haven’t worried about flashing someone in ages.” Kit’s laugh is dry, almost a whisper. “Thanks, man.”

Laughter ripples through our tight-knit group—brief, but genuine, like the flicker of a candle fighting against the dark. For a moment, I consider what the act of completing the ritual had on our relationships with Kit. It didn’t change the way any of us look at one another int he past, though.

I glance over at Jasper, who stands apart from us, his jaw set, muscles tense beneath the fine threads of his formal wear. His eyes are distant, troubled even. What played out between him and Kit was far from simple rebellion; I can feel it deep in my bones.

He’s getting feelings he has no idea how to deal with—I know because I’ve seen it before.

As Kit’s breathing steadies and his color returns, he casts a wary look towards the Prince. I can see the questions swirling in his wide, uncertain eyes. Those same questions are clawing at my insides, seeking answers I’m not sure Jasper is ready to give. He struggles with adapting to such situations, and with the current chaos, it will be even more challenging to make him understand what’s happening.

I know Jasper better than anyone—the way he guards his heart like his dragon hoards gold. He fought against his feelings for me once, his affection a battlefield he was determined to conquer alone. But we’re past that now; our bond is complex, threaded through understanding that defies traditional labels. Our Dom/sub dynamic is just one layer of the intricate tapestry that is ‘us.’

“Jasper?” Kit’s voice is hesitant.

But my Prince only stares ahead, lost in a storm only he can weather. I’d help, but it will only make him bristle right now. All I can do is stand by, patient and watchful, knowing that when he’s ready, the demon I love will let us in on the secret battle he’s waging within.

Jasper sighs, his shoulders tense as he continues to face away from us. “Slash, will you?—”

“Already on it,” Slash interrupts with a knowing nod and turns to Salem. “Grab some drinks and more bites to eat. He needs energy.”

Kit tries to protest, his voice barely above a murmur, “I’m not a child, you know.” But the words come out soft, unconvincing, lost in the worried glances we exchange.

As if to emphasize his vulnerability, Dottie scampers over, tiny fists flailing in a silent demand as Salem stands. The kinkajou’s antics draw a faint smile from Kit, a momentary flicker of amusement crossing his exhausted features.

He really has drained his battery and I’m not sure if that’s from his body trying to get his magic and powers to develop fully or if it’s because he keeps burning himself to bits by getting into scraps.

“Come sit with me,” Anton says as he drags a chair over, sharing it with X, their shoulders touching casually as they curl together.

Oriel takes another chair and brings it closer, perching like a bird of prey, eyes sharp but caring. “KK, we want to make sure you’re good to go before we leave this secret room. No one thinks you’re a child.”

We settle into watchful silence, our focus solely on Kit while he recovers. No one speaks of the dance left behind, the intrigue, or the power plays. We don’t care—and I find that interesting as hell. This caliphate was forged in chaos, but it seems now we’re bound by something stronger than duty or fear.

What a weird fucking thing to happen in the wake of all the other bullshit being thrown at us.

Salem returns, arms laden with refreshments, and Kit finally pushes himself upright. With the solemnity of a sacred ritual, he accepts the offerings, breaking bread—or rather, snacks—with Dottie, who eagerly snatches up her share.

“Sorry,” Jasper grunts suddenly, his voice rough as gravel. “For... startling you.”

Holy. Motherloving. Shit.

Shock etches itself across Kit’s face, deep lines of disbelief at Jasper’s admission. He’s not wrong; Jasper Eversore never admits his errors without some sort of torture device being involved. His surprise extends to all of us and we’ve known the Prince for far longer.

Oriel can’t resist a jab, his smirk wicked. “Anyone got a calendar? This ought to be marked as a historical event.”

Salem snorts, then laughter ripples through our small gathering, a lightness that feels almost foreign amidst the night’s tension. But Jasper’s mood soon sours, thunderclouds brewing over his brow as he paces with a beastly grace, snarling at Oriel’s gentle teasing.

“That’s enough,” Kit’s voice cracks through the mirth, surprisingly steady. “Let him be. We’ve all had to face our… demons… tonight, haven’t we?”

Slash gives Kit a long, measuring look. His gaze is heavy with thoughts unspoken before he says, “We should leave.”

Disappointment tugs at X’s lips, a fleeting shadow that reflects his wish to dance and make merry. However, Oriel nods, and Anton does as well. The thief looks at me and I agree, so he rises to his feet. “This night’s been a bust, anyway. Too much drama, not enough intel.”

The decision hangs between us all, eyes darting from one face to another until they land on Jasper. He pauses, considers, then nods. “Fine. Salem’s room, then. Dinner away from this mess sounds much safer for everyone.”

And much farther away from our shithead parents and bitchy demonesses.

In the quiet that follows, I catch Kit’s eye, and there’s a soft gratitude there that doesn’t need voicing. He’s definitely happy we’re going to leave this mess, and he wouldn’t have asked us to do so himself. That kid would damn near kill himself rather than ask for help, and that will eventually be a tremendous problem . However, for now, it’s just something I’ll be more aware of so I can help like Salem, Slash, and Oriel do.

Maybe he’ll forgive me sooner if I figure out how to keep him on an even keel.