Kythel and I would come out here in our younger years, after Father had shown us this place. Those moments had brought me peace. After what had occurred in Gemma’s rooms, I found that I sorely needed peace.
After plucking out some lore from my cabinets, I flew out the balcony windows of my own private rooms, catapulting myself into the sky, and for one blissful, impulsive moment, I allowed myself to freefall. My stomach curled in on itself, and then I flared my wings wide, heaving them down with zero effort, which surprised me for a brief moment until I realized why—why I was so strong right now. I caught the wind, gliding with it until I circled the keep and landed neatly on the roof. The stone had been worn with time and ample use. I settled into it, tucking my wings behind me and stretching my legs out along the sloped stone tiles.
It was familiar, a comfort.
Taking the small, cylindrical, clear pipe and the vial of lore from my pockets, I stuffed the plant inside it and sparked the inner chamber. Smoke drifted from the tip, and I brought it to my lips, inhaling deeply. The heady, soft smoke whistled down my throat.
A rumble of relief followed. I drew one of my knees up, draping my arm over it, wondering if I would sleep out here again. I inhaled, tasting the earthiness of this particular harvest, a pleasant sweetness that tinged my tongue. It was more flavorful, I realized. I could identify different notes in the lore that I could not before.
Then again, I had my kyrana’s blood flowing through me, nourishing and strengthening me. Strong and impossibly powerful. The moonlight was brighter. The air more crisp. I could fly to the edges of the Kaalium and back without so much as a shuddered breath.
My mood darkened. When I closed my eyes, I could hear her sobs, desperate and aching. A part of me wanted to relish in her misery. She should have been miserable. That was what I’d wanted.
The other part of me…every clear tear dripping down her cheek had felt like a punch in the gut. It had felt like she’d been beating her fists against me with the power of Raazos, stealing my breath and making my heart squeeze with discomfort and restlessness.
My blood mate viewed me as a monster.
Right then, I felt like one.
I wondered if Rivin was right. I wondered if I had gone too far.
It’s too late, I couldn’t help but think. She is already mine.
A shadowed figure in the sky caught my gaze as I peered out over the Silver Sea. Straightening, I frowned, but then I recognized the flying pattern, the gentle sway of small wings.
Grumbling under my breath, I saw Kalia spot me as she flew closer and closer to the keep, the burning blue end of my pipe an easy giveaway.
When she neared, she swooped and I shook my head. Fighting the twitch of my lips, I huffed when she swooped again, as if she were trying to put out the spark on my lore.
“Enough,” I growled out, though the word barely held a hint of bite. “Get down here.”
Kalia dropped down to the roof and wrinkled her nose as she sat beside me, her wing bumping mine, cold from the wind.
“Thank you for informing me of your return, Kyzaire,” she said, her tone sarcastic and cutting, but I knew she was happy to see me. “I had to discover that you returned because I happened upon your bride.”
The last word was spit out into the air as if it were poisoned, and a knot of tension bundled between my shoulders.
“You met her?” I asked. “When?”
Kalia leveled me a narrowed gaze. “At the north entrance. Ludayn was showing her up to her rooms. Which, can I just say, is downright cruel that you put her beside us! In our wing. Our family’s wing, Azur! Why would you do that?”
“Because she is my wife now, Kalia,” I said, my tone curt and clipped.
“Not in the true form,” she argued sullenly.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her. To tell her what I’d discovered tonight. That Gemma was my kyrana and as such, she was more than just my wife, my bride.
The Kylorr held their kyranas in the highest regards. And not only because of our bloody history and the importance of the kyranas during the warring times.
Laras would celebrate her. A blood match for their Kyzaire? It was a blessing from the gods. All of them. For surely, with a kyrana at my side, House Kaalium would be unbreakable. Especially if war came with the Kaazor.
If only they could see how much we despise one another, I couldn’t help but think.
“Kalia,” I said softly, taking her hand in mine, even as I took another drag from my pipe. The smoke loosened that tension, right where my wings met between my shoulders. “Promise me that you’ll behave yourself.”
“You sound like Father,” she accused.
I chuffed out a harsh breath, dropping her hand.
“That’s what he said to me when he left Krynn. To behave. To follow your orders, to not stand in your way or our brothers’ ways,” she said softly. “Like I was just waiting to make trouble because that’s all he saw me as.”
“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that,” I told her gently, knowing it was a soft subject for her. “And you know he doesn’t believe that. He loves you more than he loves all of us combined.”
She scoffed, but I knew the words pleased her, that preening little part of her that needed to be first in something. The curse of the youngest child, the only sister among a long line of brothers.
Kalia sighed, turning her finely boned face to look out over the sea. My chest squeezed and I nearly lost my breath. She looked so much like our mother in that moment, dappled silver in the moon, that it was frightening.
Clearing my throat, I asked, “Would you rather live with Kythel? Or Lucen?”
Lucen was our youngest brother—five years younger than Kythel and me—though he was still five years older than Kalia. Since they were closest in age, they’d been attached at the hip when they’d been children. Kalia was closest to Lucen, and I knew the distance from Laras to Salaire, where Lucen was Kyzaire, was great.
“You wish for me to leave?” my sister asked. Though she tried to mask it, I still heard the soft hurt in her voice.
“No,” I said truthfully. “But if Gemma’s presence is uncomfortable for you, you could spend the harvest in Salaire and the winter in Erzos with Kythel.”
“I don’t want to leave Laras,” Kalia said, a hint of relief in her tone. “This is home.”
I nodded, reaching out to drag her closer. I pressed my cheek into her hair as she embraced me back. Affection thrummed through me. Though we’d been born a decade apart, I still remembered the day she’d come into this world, the awe I’d felt at seeing her for the first time. A female. A blessing. Our mother’s wish had finally come true.
“Then you will stay,” I told her. I thought of Gemma’s sobs, the aching, desperate, raw sounds tearing from her throat. I hadn’t been gentle when I’d ripped my fangs from her neck, and I nearly winced at the memory. I surprised myself when I said softly, “Try not to be cruel to her, Kalia.”