Chapter 31

Chapter 31

They returned to the kíota late that night.

‘Tis the best place for us to be,’ Killen murmured as they landed in the ethereal courtyard.

‘Given the word is out and my anonymity is no longer assured,’ he added.

He said it without glancing at Sana’a and led the way inside, his body stiff.

Sana’a realised he was reacting to her coldness with an ice storm of his own.

‘Fokk,’ she whispered to herself.

This was why she loathed entanglements while on mission.

That said, Killen Sable was more than entanglement; he was fast becoming her reason for breathing.

‘Hungry?’ he murmured, heading towards the kitchens.

Her tummy growled.

Traitor.

He flicked his eyes over her. ‘So you’ll eat if I prepare something?’

She nodded with great reluctance, still pissed off.

He rustled up a simple meal of grains, fresh vegetables and fragrant roasted cold cuts.

They ate in silence until Sana’a glanced up to find Killen leaning back against a wall fitment.

His hands were crossed at the chest, his ubiquitous klaw in his mouth as he gazed at her with hooded eyes.

She ignored him, pushing away the hair plastered to her scalp and shaking her mane out.

‘How long will you punish me?’ he murmured.

She shrugged, jaw clenching.

‘You’ve every right to be livid at me.’

‘I am, and won’t hide it to make you feel better.’

‘Good, I don’t want any games between us, just raw honesty.’

She sighed. ‘I also don’t fokkin’ mince words, Sable. What you did was hurtful. You chose your needs above mine, and that sucks balls.’

He moved to situate himself before her. ‘I apologise. Didn’t mean to distress you, k’hanys.’

She gave him a hard, suspicious stare. ‘Endearments won’t get you anywhere.’

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you,’ he rasped, ‘and I deserve every fokkin’ shitty opinion you have of me now.’

‘You do. I’m so mad at you.’

‘I know,’ he murmured. ‘K’hanys. Forgive me.’

She glared at him, staring dead ahead, jaw clenching against her profile.

‘I’ve angered you, and that cuts me, woman,’ he continued. ‘Because believe it or not, you matter so much to me,’ he rasped, looming over her.

Her heart lurched.

She took a ragged sigh and met his heated gaze. ‘You mean a lot to me too, Killen. But if you keep standing in my way, I’ll have to blade you.’

They stared at each other for a long moment.

The essence between them shifted, and the atmosphere crackled with wild electricity.

His eyes dipped with desire, and Sana’a jolted right to her clit.

‘I’m before you now. What will you do about it?’

In the Kíríga’s shrouded bedchamber high up in the kíota, Killen twisted above Sana’a, hips thrusting into her as they lost themselves in a frantic, driven mating.

Their bodies intertwined, their movements frantic and desperate, a tangle of limbs and sweat-drenched skin.

The aura was heady and potent as their lips met in urgent, bittersweet kisses.

Pressed tight, fingers digging into flesh, tongues tangling.

Soft moans and gasps filled the room as their limbs moved in unison, straining against the other in a frenzied and raw yearning.

One born from the deepest wells of sadness, an attempt to fill the void with something – anything – but the sentiment of loss.

When Sana’a came, it was with such melancholy passion tears ran down her cheek.

As she rode the wave, an unfamiliar pressure exerted on her forehead, through her cognition and anchored itself above her mind.

In the heat of her wild orgasm, however, she forgot it.

When finally sated, the pair lay entwined, staring at the undulating skies through the glass roof, lost in thought, their bodies and souls shattered from their ordeal.

Killen turned and pushed his face into Sana’a’s nape.

She, in turn, stroked his mane, her heart churning.

Self-recrimination tormented her as her soul urged her towards a decision she was going to hate herself for.

That he was going to despise her for.

With a sad smile, she made up her mind, pressed her lips into his temple and sat up, twisting to face Killen. ‘Did you just make love to me to get my thoughts off Kalila?’

He reached a hand to brush her hair out of her eyes. ‘Maybe, khany’s.’

She gave him a slight shake of the head. ‘You’ve no idea, do you? Of how much ending her means to me? Or the measure of relief it’ll give me, my family and the entire Shotelai across Pegasi?’

Killen’s face exhaled. ‘My love, I -’

‘Listen to me, Killen,’ Sana’a interjected, keeping her voice as soft as she could manage. ‘Blading her is the key to solving all our problems.’

He sighed. ‘All your problems, Sana’a, but none of mine. While I get how significant the oath is to you, I’m just asking we wait a little. Then you can pull apart her bird bones as you please.’

‘Why is waiting so important?’ Sana’a murmured. ‘I’m not being argumentative. I do want to understand.’

Killen breathed out and shifted, crossing his hands under his head so his hair trailed over his arms. He stared up at the ceiling, choosing his words with care.

‘As I suspected and we observed today, she has a mass of dark íkan infested inside her. She is the source of the dying kízakan. And her vulstone is generating it. I must find a way to stop her before it takes over Katánē. I don’t want to kill her because her demise may accelerate the takeover of kíza. This is a probability if what the hawkstone has shown me is true. The very thing we desire, her death, will only spread the shadows further. Besides, I don’t want to be like my grandfather and eliminate and murder at will or berserk with insanity. Above all, he was a proud and vain king, obsessed with being flattered, who believed in his absolute authority and power. He was impulsive and quick-tempered, prone to rash decisions that often had disastrous consequences. In the end, he went mad from it all. No one told him the truth. And he lost the will and love of the people as a result.’

‘The love of the people? You want their praise?’

He sliced his eyes to her. ‘Nada, k’hanys, I’ve no intention of sitting on a throne, seeking adoration. The hawkstone has shown me that an obsession with flattery can lead to human or divine madness. A better option is to walk humbly without needing to be venerated.’

He paused for a beat. ‘The hawkstone has also revealed an alternative way of dealing with Kalila.’

‘How?’

‘By raising kemí itself. My efforts after bringing peace to the land will be on using every freakin’ tool I can. Including the hawkstone, to raise life, to heighten the breath of Kagṣān enough to wipe out kíza. Once I do, she’s all yours.’

Sana’a shook her head. ‘That could take months, time I don’t have. I can’t twiddle my thumbs and wait for you to roll over your enemies first. By the time the fool has learned the game, the players will have dispersed.’

His lips turned up at the ends as he kissed her thigh. ‘Calling me a fool, beautiful?’

‘I’m calling you something,’ she quipped, but mirth was the last thing on her mind. She glanced away from him, her heart aching.

He leaned over to kiss her shoulder, but she shifted away.

‘You’re upset at me,’ he murmured.

She shook her head while letting out an exasperated huff. ‘Sable, when are you going to get it? I don’t use emotion to manipulate. What I’m sad about is that you and I are too different. You prefer non-violence and kusudi intent; I opt for the blade and righteous justice. You want peace on Katánē. I want revenge for my fallen father.’

She took an inhale before continuing. ‘Most importantly, you must remain on this rock to rule it. But I must return to my people and find a home for them. While your goals are valid, so are mine, and our paths are too divergent.’

‘K’hany’s, this is the first I’ve heard all of this, of how different we are,’ was all Killen could murmur as his eyes shuttered for a second, pain flitting across his craggy features. ‘Why have you never shared this before?.’

Sana’a sighed. ‘It’s never been a good time to discuss it—until now. Also, my work with you on Katánē is done,’ she went on. ‘It was completed the night of the kervisia ceremony. You’re now a better blader than I probably am.’

She paused for a beat, the only sound in the room their sentiment-ridden breaths.

‘Last of all, if I can’t complete my oath, I need to leave,’ Sana’a went on. ‘To return to my people, as my place is by their side.’

Killen gave her a long look, awareness rising in his gaze. ‘You’ve made up your mind.’

She turned, sliced her eyes to him, and nodded with care. ‘I have, my love,’ she said, plucking the edge of the sheet beneath her. ‘And I hate that we don’t have what it takes to make it to forever.’

He knifed up, a hardness in his eyes. ‘Nada, I won’t allow this to be the end of us. I won’t let you talk us, or me, into this.’

She rose from the bed, her eyes locking with his from across the fur and silk-lined divan. ‘But I see no other way. Think about it. How will we make it work? I’m Shotelai, you’re Katánian. We have such different paths to walk.’

Killen pushed a hand through his long locks and huffed in frustration. ‘K’hanys,’ he growled, tapping his chest. ‘I am certain, in my heart of hearts, that you are mine, and I am yours. We are fused for eternity.’

As he said it, he also touched the glowing jewel between his temples. It pulsed over her, and she jolted at its intensity.

‘Yet you won’t let me blade Kalila,’ she whispered.

Silence fell as he clenched his jaw and twisted his mouth.

She gave him a tremulous smile. ‘I didn’t think so. If you won’t allow it, I must return to my people. They need me.’

They stared at each other, chests heaving, souls churning.

With a frustrated growl, Killen turned away, banding his arms over his broad chest. ‘You know my answer on the Kalila, and I must think on the second.’

The chasm between them yawned even wider as Sana’a studied the man she adored, her heart breaking.

Biting her lips, she sighed. ‘Let’s keep it real. You can’t keep me here with no purpose. And with everything working against us, we can’t be together. I can’t be your lover, and I can’t stay. We may never find a compromise, so know this: I’ll always be happy for you even if you love another.’

‘Nada,’ Killen snarled, pain leaking from his eyes. His hawkstone blazed as he thrust his corded neck towards the roof as if trying to stem the agony that was shuddering through his body.

The same torment coursed through her, throbbing through her. With a surge of compassion, she rounded the bed and wrapped her arms around him from behind, speaking against the skin of his back. ‘Killen Sable, you will always be my unexpected lover, and what we shared was real; it’ll always be real. But Kíríga, while your heart might be in the right place about me, it is the wrong time for us.’

He tagged her arms and turned her to face him, his muscled bulk looming over her, his eyes glittering with the emotion cascading through him. ‘Fokk, Sana’a, please, I can’t do this without you,’ he groaned, gesturing around him to indicate the weight of his responsibility. ‘I won’t.’

She clutched his biceps, stroking his skin. ‘You will. You have courage beyond measure for this entire Kingdom.’

‘I can’t let you slip away,’ he cried out. ‘What will it take, Sana’a? Me begging?’

When she pressed her lips and shook her head without speaking, he let out a string of Devansi curses.

‘Please, don’t let be how we strike out. Fokk Sana’a, my heart’s in your hands now. Will you reconsider? Because, fokk, I can’t, nada, won’t do this journey without you.’

Her hands clutched him tighter. ‘Killen, we’re past reconsidering. I’ve thought long and hard about this.’

‘Yet you didn’t care to share your doubts with me,’ his voice was tight, his ire rising.

‘I am, right now.’

‘You’re dictating how we will end, not tabling it for discussion,’ he shouted.

Silence fell as both lovers stared at each other, chests heaving.

Finally, Sana’a spoke in a whisper that echoed through the quiet of the chamber. ‘I wish you peace and pray that you one day sit on the throne. Maybe even find a queen to walk by your side. But we can’t fix this. Not now. Let’s rest in the fact that all good things end. And we were amazing, Killen. More than amazing.’

His gaze scorched through her, chest heaving, nostrils flaring. ‘But not enough.’

His rasp was a slow, tortured and hoarse utterance that tore through her.

She took a step toward him.

With a shudder, he lifted one hand to ward her off and backed away. His eyes shuttered, turning grey and bleak like an iced-over lake.

She gave a small sob as she sensed his spirit withdraw, pulling away, shutting down through her being.

‘Can’t say we didn’t try. We gave it a fokkin’ good go,’ he snarled between twisting lips, eyes distant as he nabbed his clothes, pulled them on and strode from the room.

She stared at him leave, her heart pounding and her soul breaking.

When he was gone, and all that was left was a cold wind whistling through the chamber, Sana’a gasped.

Agony shattered all over her.

She doubled over and slid to the floor, huddled into a ball, where she remained for a long time.