Fantasy - Wildfire - [CLOSED]

[pointmango]

Kyel could feel her gaze bearing into his own. The closeness, the sharp breathing, the heated exchanges, it reminded him of the night again. Would every moment around her bring back the feeling he felt in bed with her? Her response was expected, but unexpectedly her fingers came around his throat. Was she going to try and choke him with his arm and sword tangled around her? His entire body washed over with a wave of cold. She stepped away from him and he could not move, his pupils dilated in panic as he couldn’t will himself to move or anything. After another moment warmth came back over him and he let out a deep breath as he moved his arms and legs.

His body tensed as he looked at her while she tried to call a tie. He stepped forward again, his hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards him again. This time it was to keep her gaze on his own as he looked down at her, “We are doing this to improve your skills without magic,” he snapped. “I know you can win with magic every time, that’s not the point of this Kaira. Your swordsmanship deserves the opportunity to improve. Clearly it needs work,” he added frowning.

His eyes moved downward again, he had pulled her perhaps a bit too close to himself this time, and so he took a calculated step backwards. “No ties,” he said, “We continue as soon as we reach Riftmere.” His eyes darted down to where he had hit her in the ribs, it had been a hard blow, his expression softened just slightly and he thought of asking her if she was alright. Perhaps that was too much. “I’ll see you later,” he said, “We’ll have to work on your offensive tactics.” He told her. It made sense her offense was never the sword, only magic. He turned to head back inside to the baths.

 

[peritwinkle]

‘Kaira.’ Her name sounded perfect in his voice. His grip around her wrist hurt, but not enough for her to try to back off. He was right, she could not rely entirely on magic, especially since that in itself depended heavily on her state. If she could not focus, if she was scared or in pain, she did not know whether she could muster it quite as well. Fighting had to become an instinct, while to her it was an active, taxing action that required focus.

She did not try to counter his words. When he let go of her, Kaira stepped back and made a lamentable attempt at straightening her back with pride. She wanted to fall to her knees and lay there in the mud; she was cold and strangely tired, and watching him walk away so impassively only amplified the feeling. Had Leon been there, he would have told her the same. His physical strength over her was no excuse for her to resort to magic when she could practise care and true focus. She had relied on her trust for him instead, which was out of the question in a real scenario.



That day, she had requested her meals in her room - a careless choice, considering her vision, but she decided it would be just as easy to poison her plate in front of witnesses as it would in her own chamber. The fighting had worked up her appetite, and by the end of the evening, she had already tasted all of the cakes and treats left over from the previous night’s party. She had grown particularly fond of the dark chocolate tarts, which seemed to go awfully well with red wine. She had requested a full pitcher, which was now almost entirely gone, as well as her plate of sweets. which she carelessly set and forget on her vanity for a servant to grab through the cracked door the next time she called for a refill.

She sat on the window sill, looking out at the city of Whitevale - the view was speckled with tiny, amber lights that symbolized every window, of every home, of every soul that lived in that wretched place. Taking one sip of her wine, she decided to open the letter Elisif had left for her on her bed when she has returned from sparring that morning. It was signed with a flourished ‘E’ and carried her pretty floral scent, as everything around her did.

‘Come and see me this evening. I have much to tell you.’​

And Kaira had much to ask and apologize for. Albeit a part of her could not trust the woman entirely, she believed she had told her the truth. More importantly, she wished to know of her relationship with her mother. Had she known her father too? Her brother, Nikolai? Her curiosity ate her up from the inside, and she wished she could stir her awake that night to ask her, but it was already late, and her regret for not having opened the letter sooner.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel did not notice until dinner when he had to endure a maddening conversation between Lord Pyke and Ser Beor about something about a dagger, that she had requested meals in her room. He was furious, she’d been all alone in her room all day?! His intentions to go straight to her room after dinner were deterred when Beor gave him some letters. Most of them were from his own council up in Ironstone and he would have to reply right away. “Thank you Ser Beor,” Kyel spoke with a tight tone.

The letters had been longer than he thought, and his replies needed even more attention. He rubbed his face as he dipped his quill into more ink and began scribbling away. Finally finishing his last letter he found the first steward in sight and sent him off with the sealed parchments to be brought safely to Ironstone.

Kyel tried to quiet his step as he approached the hallway with her chambers. He didn’t want anyone poking their head out at his enraged booming step. His fist pressed her door to knock, but with the pressure he found the door was already open. His chest fell completely, he was too late. He whipped the door open only to find her sitting on the edge of the window sill with a letter in her hand. Her skin was slightly flushed and his eyes glanced to the pitcher of wine. The clear worry and pain in his expression quickly turned to anger. He turned then and shut the door quietly behind himself.

“You have been in here all day alone, after dreaming someone will kill you in that same setting. And now you leave the door open? So anyone may waltz in?” He questioned her, his brows raised then. He knew if she had been awake the whole day there was little to worry about, her hand on his neck this morning had proved she could handle herself awake. Still, he worried. The panic in his chest when he thought he would walk in to find her dead on the ground…. More unsettling realizations pondered on his features as he looked her over. “Do you want to die?” He asked her then, his tone serious, today during their sword practice he had almost been able to clear her neck twice. “Who is that letter from?” He asked her nodding to the letter in her hand.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kyel’s form appeared through the cracked door without warning. Kaira jolted, her reflexes slow, but she quickly relaxed back against the window and set the letter down in her lap. His voice held a true distress, one that contrasted with his coldness from earlier that day. Had he noticed her absence at dinner? Had a servant informed him of her request to dine alone? It was well into the evening, which made her wonder what had taken him so long to come and question her like a worried parent.

“If someone had wanted to kill me, a closed door would not have stopped them,” she replied with a shrug, then shook the piece of parchment lightly. “Elisif asked to see me this evening. I just opened it now, so I suppose it will have to wait.” She pondered on his question for a moment. No, she did not wish to die. Not yet at least. She wanted to live to see Leon free and Valera rid of Alastair for good. And yet in spite of it all, she lacked the energy to protect herself then. She was vulnerable. It could have been someone entirely different stepping inside her room then.

She bent to grab the pitcher and fill her glass with the remainder of the wine. “I would ask if you want some, but I gather you are more of an ale person, am I wrong?”

The wine was nothing like that back at Yllevad. This one was weak and not very aromatic. Three glasses had barely gotten her warmed up. As she took a few sips, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. “What took you so long?” she asked nonchalantly as she twirled the content of the glass with a gentle movement of her wrist. “It has been at least a turn of the lock since dinner. I know, because I must have had like three portions of cakes up until ten minutes ago.”

 

[pointmango]

He frowned as she spoke about someone wanting to kill her so nonchalantly. His brow did lift at a letter from Elisif, he wondered why she wanted to see Kaira. He did know Elisif would likely want to make friends with the girl. He wondered if it was lonely for Kaira then? His frown returned as he watched her finishing the pitcher of wine and he began to walk over to her. “I had my own letters to answer.” He spoke simply to her question as he crossed the room and plucked the wine glass right from her fingers. He downed the entire glass, and then he set it down beside the pitcher. “You’re right, I do prefer ale,” he said to her.

His eyes filtered over her again, with his anger and fear finally subsiding, for the most part anyway, it was hard not to be upset with her carelessness of her own life. But with it subsiding it was replaced with a new urge. “Stand up,” he said as he recalled their sword match that morning. He held his hand for her to help her and as she stood he stepped forward again, his body very close to hers then. One hand held hers and the other pressed against her waist before sliding up to press very lightly where he had elbowed her earlier that morning. “Tender,” he muttered.

His brows furrowed again, this time upset with himself for hurting her. His chest rose and fell in a deep motion as his hand lifted to her cheek and he brushed her cheekbone with his thumb. His eyes looked down over hers, the wine did almost nothing for him, and yet his chest and face felt hot as he stood so close to her. He leaned his forehead down to press into hers, it was the most affectionate apology he could provide, he couldn’t exactly be sorry, he was trying to prove to her she needed to learn proper swordsmanship. His hand moved back to the tender spot over her ribs, “Show me,” he said, speaking of her injury. He wanted to see if there was any bruising.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira was surprised when he took the glass. It proved to her that he was not only there to chastize her, or perhaps he was merely choosing to drown the worry from moments before. But as he came towards her and urged her to stand up, there was something else in his voice, a fire that did not ring of anger or fear, but painted as a fervent demand, almost a command. His hand felt cold against hers, as her skin was heated from the wine. Even the silk of her night gown felt colder, but she could blame it on the exhaustion and the rain as much as the alcohol.

His hand trailed up to her rib and the light press of his knuckles reminded her of the pain. She flinched slightly, the hand that lay in his clutching. It was sharp, no wonder a proper bruise by then, but nothing compared to others she had earned while training with Leon. She wondered, for a moment, if he regretted it; it had taught her a lesson, and Kaira knew she had deserved it. He should have been harsher with her, never allow for another dauntless move. She should have treated their duel as genuine. She did not want him to think of her as frail or delicate, for her enemy never would.

As he pressed his forehead to hers, Kaira closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. She could feel her heart pound and her gut twist painfully. Could he hear her heartbeat? Could he feel her rapid pulse against his skin? Could he make anything of her heaving chest? She wanted him to be ignorant and cold, just as he had been that morning; it would have made everything easier. Gently, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and slowly guided his hand through the cut in her robe and against her skin, the fabric falling slowly to the side enough to expose the bruise. Then, she guided it to the middle of the chest, where the pommel of his sword had painted an artful mark.

“I’ve felt worse,” she whispered softly. She had had her arms broken and her skin grazed more times than she could remember. “There is no need for you to coddle me for this.” Where she held his hand pressed to her, she knew he could feel her heart drumming against her sternum. “Don’t do this to me,” she murmured then, and dropped his hand, slowly covering herself back up. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and Kaira knew he had not had enough alcohol the night before to not remember his promise that they were not anything more than allies. “I still remember what you told me last night. I know you do too.”

 

[pointmango]

He looked down, his face still close to hers as she pressed his hand over the bruise on her rib, his brows furrowed again as he was disappointed in himself. He didn't think he had hit her that hard. In the moment he had hit her as hard as he would have hit any opponent in training. He could have taught her the lesson without bruising her. Then she led his hand to her chest where the hilt got her as well. His thumb brushed lightly over the skin as she held his wrist. He wanted to lean down and kiss the bruises, shower them with anything he felt would take away the feeling of pain. She didn't deserve such brutality. He thought she only deserved gentle touches from then out. He'd have to re-evaluate his thoughts after tonight, get himself back on track. His hand stayed at her chest her pulse was quick, and he knew his own likely matched her pace.

Then she dropped his hand and spoke those next words. His jaw tensed and his eyes came to meet hers again. “I remember what I said,” he spoke clearly. He stepped in closer against her, his hips pressed against her hips and his hands came to her cheeks forcing her to look up at him, “I can care if my ally is hurt,” He spoke to her sternly. He could. He would be just as distressed if Beor or Jon faced the same injuries. Well… not exactly. He’d have to tell himself that though to make the notion less with Kaira.

Besides, their arrangement, although maybe not an arrangement… he wasn't sure what it was. All he knew is that he had to remind himself it was only lust, and all she was to him was a warm body in the night. Being there for her protection was a completely separate issue. His chest rose and fell again, so close to her and he leaned down pressing his lips against hers, “This is for pleasure and nothing else Kaira,” he spoke pulling from her lips. One of his hands fell from her cheek and pressed to her waist again, his head dipped and his lips trailed her pulse point. His lips traveled back up to hers and his forehead pressed to hers again, her suggestion of affection was clouding his judgement, knowing how to differentiate between what was acceptable and what wasn’t was becoming harder. Did her chest tighten at every touch like his did? “Kiss me,” he said close to her lips.

 

[peritwinkle]

He was too close to her. Every move, every touch, every word that came out of his mouth was electrifying. It was nothing like the night before, when he had had her so angrily, without any feeling but pure lust. She was unsure what triggered the tendency of affection in him; was it the bruises? The fear that he could have found her dead on her bedroom floor? She wanted to believe him in that moment, to feel cared of not in a way that reduced her to a valuable political trinket, but to a real person.

Then his words came, and every joy that came with his kiss and touch vanished to reveal a brisk reality. “No,” Kaira murmured and pulled away from him. “I will not have you touch me like this, make me feel like this, and then merely regard me as another warm body you can toss around.” It had been an act, she could see it now, and in that moment, she was glad for her own instinctive doubt from only seconds before. “It may come easy for you, a Lord, you have likely had more women than I can count. There is a thick line between how you acted last night and this.”

Kaira’s neck was tensed and she shook her head, walking around him to reach the opposite side of the room. The candles were flickering angrily and her first were clenched, shaking. “I do not need a lie to make my nights better,” she pearled. “I do not need you to pretend you care about me.” Because she was not him. She could not close her eyes and dream without waking up bewildered the next morning. He had already left a mark on her mind; the last thing she needed was hope.

Hope. She felt pathetic. He was the Lord of Ironstone, and she was the King’s Volur. The feeling of power over him from the night before had been a mere illusion. She was young and naïve, inexperienced, while he likely looked down upon her the same way he had over any other woman he had had without any serious intention.

 

[pointmango]

His brow furrowed as she pulled away from him and she said no. Why? Make her feel like what? What was she feeling? Had it been the same as him? He took a deep breath, last night it seemed like she wanted him to treat her as a body to toss around. Now he was unsure how he wanted her. Clearly a line had been crossed and while she labeled it as thick he could not find it.

His eyes glanced around as the light intensified with the grip of her fist by her side, she was so angry. He did not understand. He thought she wanted to think of him as just a body and for pleasure. Was it that? That she thought he was pretending to care about her? His eyes trailed over her across the room, his jaw was tight and he just nodded. It was better this way, no matter how much he wished to cross the room and simply hold her and tell her how wrong she was with her assumptions, that the words he spoke to her were just that so he could pretend like what he was doing, what he was feeling, wasn’t wrong. It was better to let her believe this about him.

Kyel took another deep breath and then he nodded. His body was tense as he held everything inside. “Fine,” was all he spoke as he crossed the room. Then he moved not towards her, but to a chair in the center across from her bed. He then pointed to the bed, “You should have enough wine and cake in your belly to sleep,” he muttered as he pulled off his boots then making himself comfortable. Even then as he sat in the chair, she wasn’t even in bed and the thought of her laying alone without him caused him distress. He felt like her safety was only ensured when his arms were wrapped tight around her.

His jaw stayed tight as he let his thoughts wander. Only moments ago his hands had been on her. She had pressed his hands to her body so tenderly. He should have kissed her bruises, he should have said nothing. Why did it matter if any feelings got in the way? If the both of them kept their mouths shut he’d be in a warm bed keeping her safe in his arms. Now he was condemned to a chair to watch from afar.

 

[peritwinkle]

Sleep. With all the wine in Whitevale, Kaira doubted she could have a good sleep that night. She looked at him from beneath furrowed brows, but her expression painted distress rather than anger. She watched him claim the seat overlooking her bed and get comfortable, aware then that he had no intention of leaving the room - leaving her - despite her reproaches.

“You don’t need to sleep on a chair,” Kaira eventually said. She turned towards the bed and lay on the edge closer to the window. The light in her room was dim enough to allow for the moon to peek through and caress her face. She assumed he would eventually come to sleep on the other side, but she did not look at him to check. Her eyes were fixated on the curtains, nervously analyzing the intricate pattern embroidered around the edges.

It took her far too long to fall asleep. The evening felt endless, and the more time she spent curled on the very edge of the mattress beneath the sheets, the more restless she grew. Her heart still beat so fast, she thought he could see her body shake with every pulse. After what she deemed a turn of the clock, she shifted on the other side slowly to check if he had come to sleep next to her, careful enough not to wake him in her movement. Her gaze fell on his form, pale and still, then to the sheets stained dark crimson underneath him. Kaira shot up, her hand reaching to shake him, and saw her own skin tainted with the blood. A pang throbbed in her back and between her ribs, the same vivid pain she had seen in her augury.

Were they both dead? Had she lived?

Kaira’s chest heaved as she struggled to scream his name, but no sound left her lips. The image shifted and her eyes opened again, to the same room engulfed by darkness, and she was sat up, with her skin dripping in a cold sweat and her chest heaving. She looked to the side and saw Kyel’s form again, this time covered and turned away from her. No blood, but her own back still throbbed like a blade wound. “Wake up!” She gulped, the salty taste of tears in the back of her throat, as she gripped his shoulder and shook him. “Wake up… Please wake up…”

 

[pointmango]

He didn’t need to sleep on the chair. Still, he watched her get into bed and he stayed in his spot. After what felt like hours his own mind began to wander and he could feel his eyes wanting to close, but the position and discomfort of the chair when an open bed was offered to him was too much. He stood up and moved over to the bed, unsure if she was asleep or awake he pulled his shirt off and set it down. He then climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over himself slightly as he turned away from her, his body facing the door and finally letting sleep claim him.

His sleep was deep despite his anger from earlier. Maybe it was because the bed seemed to be infused with her scent and it calmed him. It didn’t matter, he was sleeping deeply until he felt someone gripping his shoulder and shouting wake up. His mind came back to him and he remembered the whole reason he was staying with her in the first place. He shot up and immediately and he jumped from bed, his hand grabbed a vase that was on the bedside table, how foolish of him not to sleep with a weapon beside him.

His eyes darted around the room looking for another figure to throw or smash the vase on, but instead there was no one. He lowered the vase slightly, his adrenaline had been soaring high in that moment and his chest heaved a few heavy breathes as he looked at her. She looked like she was in pain, and she was heaving too, she looked breathless and was covered in sweat. He set the vase down completely then, “Was it a dream?” He asked her carefully. His hand came to rub his face, and he looked around the room once more just to be safe, he moved back into bed.

His hand reached for her forehead, she felt hot… but also cold, almost like chilled. She looked pale and she was still breathing so harshly. He wondered how often this happened to her. Twice in three nights seemed like a lot. Did they always mean something? She had been so panicked, he needed to know, “What happened?” he asked her carefully. He wondered if she was having another vision, “Was it the same as last time?” He wondered.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kyel shot from his side of the bed at the sound of her voice, assuring her that he was alive and it had, in fact, been a dream. Still, as he drew closer, her eyes scoured his skin, from the base of his throat to his chest, ribs and middle. Then, she slipped her hand into her own robe, feeling for a wound on her stomach, then her back, down her spine. Nothing. Her skin was chilled, damp, making the silk fabric cling uncomfortably to her form.

“It felt so real,” she whispered, her neck tensing, and she looked up to him with a grimace of distress etched over her features. “You were bleeding… There was blood all over the sheets. I saw it, it felt nothing like a dream. I could feel a dagger wound in my back, I could smell the blood, I could taste it on my tongue…” She had died in that dream - they both had. She understood it then. Recalling the cold blue light engulfing the room and the looming sense of death sent a shiver down her spine. “It felt the same as the last one.”

Kaira turned away from him and sat up on the opposite edge of the bed, then slowly slipped her arms out of the robe and let it fall around her, leaning forward against her elbows. The chilled air immediately hit her bare back, sensation which anchored her back to reality. He could see nothing of her, and yet, the moment felt personal, intimate, albeit for an entirely different reason. He had seen how her mind worked for himself; those were not just fever dreams. They were full fledged visions, and the thought that they could come to reality, that she could one day see him bleed for her, made her insides churn.

“Whatever is about to hit me will hit you too,” she said to him. “I need you to stay out of my way. There is no point in both of us getting hurt. There clearly is no other outcome to this.” Unless she was reading into it wrong. Unless it was only a warning, but she did not want to take any chances. She would not have him die for her, and not because of who he was. She would not let anyone die for her anymore.

 

[pointmango]

As her eyes filtered over him, she was looking for something, then her hands pressed to herself and Kyel watched, still confused. The distress on her face was intense and as she described the scene to him his own chest felt uneasy. She saw him dead beside her in bed. He was dead, and she had been stabbed. She sat up and leaned over the side of the bed, she exposed her back and Kyel could see the tension in her.

His jaw tensed as she told him he would need to stay out of her way. There was no way in hell that was happening. “You said yourself the visions aren’t always exact,” he countered harshly. “It could mean something else,” he pressed. “I will not stay out of your way. I will not take any chances risking you being harmed.” He spoke firmly then.

Did he speak so firmly then because of his love for his home? Was he going to die for this Volur because it meant the best chance for his homeland to win this war? Or would he risk himself for her for a whole other reason entirely? He supposed there was truth in both. He shifted in bed, his hand reaching out to touch her back, but before his hand came into contact with the soft pale skin he let his hand fall. “Come back and sleep,” he whispered to her then. “I’m not leaving you alone Kaira. I will make sure you participate in this war. You are my ally… you are also my friend.” he said then, “I won’t let anything hurt you.” he knew what that meant, he wouldn’t let anything hurt her unless he himself were struck dead. Seemed like her dream was relaying just that to them.

“I will stay awake at night if that is what will help,” he said to her then. “There will be another outcome, you may think these visions are set in stone, I think nothing is certain.” He told her, “I believe we are in charge of our own destiny’s, and I will make sure we both live to see you take down King Alastair once and for all.” He said and then his hand finally did come to her side, “Please, try and sleep, you need rest.”

 

[peritwinkle]

As she was starting to calm down and the sweat dried on her skin, Kaira’s mind began to clear. She knew he was right: there was never a certainty with those dreams. She recalled reading about vision interpretation, and how death often meant rebirth, but it did not make any sense in this context. She was well aware that he had no intention of backing off for the sake of his own safety, and in a way, he was right; she was their most valuable asset, perhaps even more valuable than the council or any other Lords they might recruit as allies. With the right balance and use of magic, and Leon’s heart on her side, she had a feeling he would help her sabotage Alastair without directly affecting their vow.

She felt his hand draw to her side and the muscles in her back rippled. “No,” she shook her head. “No, you need sleep as much as I do.” A part of her wished he were closer, hoped that his hand would wander; the other one, still lucid, was thankful for the distance, despite the urge it stirred within her. Kaira let out a soft sigh and, slipping her arms back into the robe, she shifted and lay on her right side, now facing him. The pillow was too warm against her cheek, so she left the thick cover folded beneath her feet to allow the air in the room to lure her back to sleep.

Still, she peeked at him through her lashes, her eyes heavy. “You look different when you’re sleepy,” she whispered. “Your guard is down. You are calm. I don’t know if I like you more this way or prefer the grumpy you.” She had enjoyed his roughness the night before and even during their sparring match. The pain had not stopped her from admiring him; he played fair, and she did not expect to be treated any less than a warrior, despite being a woman. “When I first met you, I thought you were quite dimwitted… The mindless barbaric type. I’m glad I was wrong.”

Very wrong. He was smart, quick witted and even perhaps manipulative. He knew how to look at her, how to speak to her to get her to offer him all of her attention. All whilst she was cold, harsh and too honest for her own good. Still, they did touch in a tangent point, balancing their beings enough to get along and on the very edge of despising eachother.

 

[pointmango]

His hand pulled back from her tense back, he wished she would relax. She pulled her robe back on and she shifted to lay in bed again. He laid too, the both of them facing each other now. His eyes studied her face as she spoke of him. He let out a soft smile then as she described him as different and that she didn’t know if she preferred him peaceful or grumpy which he would have laughed at if they weren’t so comfortable with their faces in the pillows. His brow lifted as she added what she thought of him when she first met him. “I’m glad you found yourself wrong,” He said, his lips still turned upward slightly. “I’ve never been called dimwitted before,” he mused.

His eyes moved over her slowly, “I thought you were evil,” he shrugged as he shifted closer to her slightly, the movement was small, and his leg brushed hers, but he didn’t keep the contact. “When I first saw you, you were unconscious on a table. You were beautiful and asleep. I told Beor to kill you. I’m glad he refused,” Kyel smirked a bit then. His hand moved to hers and he let his fingertips dance along her palm slightly, even his fingers looked large in her hand. “My opinion of you changed as soon as I heard you speak. You didn’t care what the others thought. You stated your place and what you thought. You were honest to a group of people who wronged you.” He had wanted to like her since that moment, but his prejudice kept him at bay.

His hand lifted from her hand to her cheek, his thumb brushed just below her cheekbone. He wanted to tell her he would keep her safe, he wanted to promise her it. “Goodnight Kaira,” he whispered before pulling his hand away from her and letting his body shift in slightly closer, still not letting himself touch her as he closed his eyes.

*

When the light poked through the curtains of the room Kyel’s head lifted slightly. Somehow though the night his hand had filtered over her waist and pulled her closer to him. He slowly removed his hand from the small of her back and he let out a soft breath as he lifted himself from the bed. His eyes searched the side of her face, and he pushed some of the hair from her forehead, “I’m headed out,” he whispered, her cue to wake up, he didn’t want to leave her still asleep, the same as yesterday. "We ride for Riftmere after breakfast," he reminded her. Again the urge to kiss her shoulder, perhaps even her forehead this time snuck over him. But last night she had been clear and told him no. He just let his hand touch her shoulder tenderly.

It was a bit later than when he left yesterday, but still early enough he felt he wouldn’t have to be too careful in the hall. He pulled his white undershirt back on, not bothering with the ties or his boots as he picked up his jacket and boots and headed for the door. He took one last look at her before letting himself outside and closing the door gently.

As the door latched and he made sure it was secure he turned to find himself face to face with a familiar pregnant golden haired woman. “Elisif,” Kyel breathed out in quiet shock. His chest fell.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira wondered if it was the first time she saw him truly smile. The look in his eyes made her own lips turn up slightly, albeit she felt too tired to show any proper emotion. Her gaze fell on his hand and the gentle way he traced lines in her palm. She found herself wishing he would hold it, intertwine his fingers with hers and pull her closer, but she knew better than to feed into that thought.

She was truly grateful for Ser Beor in that moment; had it not been for his judgment, she would not have seen the light of day. Alastair might have already gotten to them. As she listened to him speak, she closed her eyes and deepened her face into the pillow. His scent and the heat of his skin against her soothed all of the tension from earlier. With every passing moment, with every word, his voice was beginning to fade, or perhaps he was speaking more quietly to preserve the silence.

Soon enough, she heard a whispered word that sounded like her name, but she could not open her eyes enough to respond. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning. She was far too comfortable, far too mellow, so much so that she could no longer feel the ache of her bruises or the chill of the room, allowing her to fall prey to a deep slumber.

*​

Elisif had donned the prettiest day gown she could find that morning and braided a delicate gold chain between her locks before walking out through the door of her chamber. That morning, she had asked for a larger breakfast, for two, which her servant had tastefully placed on a silver tray and decorated with fresh herbs and small wildflowers, no wonder something that fit Lady Pyke’s preferences. With that in her hands, she headed towards Kaira’s room, her head up and her lips pursed, prepared to find the girl still asleep. Frankly, she hoped she was. The last time she had seen her, she was heading towards the sparring ground far too early in the morning, right after the brief council meeting with Ser Bastian.

As she headed for the familiar door, it cracked open, and a figure walked out into the hallway that could not possibly belong to the young woman. Elisif’s chest puffed and she struggled to keep a smirk from spreading across her features. Lord Skovgaard was everything but put together, with his boots undone and his shirt severely wrinkled. With a stifled simper, she made a subtle gesture towards her mouth symbolizing a twisting lock, then pretended to throw away the key with a merry puff through her nose.

“Is she awake?” she asked quietly. “I do believe she will be quite happy to have breakfast after what I assume was… an active night, hmm?”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel’s eyes filtered over Elisif, he could see her trying to suppress a smile. She playfully motioned to her lips tightening a lock and Kyel felt heat rising to his cheeks and the back of his neck. He shook his head just slightly trying to figure out what to say to her, technically Kaira had a very active past two nights and for very different reasons. “Uh, yes, she just woke up,” he spoke in a quiet and low voice.

Kyel thought about asking Elisif to say nothing, he knew the woman would never overstep. Besides, maybe she would gather some information on what Kaira thought. He also knew Elisif to protect secrets with her life though, if any knowledge was spilled he might not hear of it. So he said nothing else, instead he moved past her then swallowing his pride, “I will see you later,” he spoke quickly.

He moved quickly into his own room and he dropped his boots and jacket and ran his hands through his hair as stress pulled over his features. He dressed for the day and decidedly wore his riding pants. He headed down to the main dining hall where he found Jon eating his breakfast as Islea was heading out. “Lord Skovgaard,” Islea nodded to him. Kyel nodded his head to her and he moved to sit across from Jon.

“Lord Pellieteir,” Kyel spoke with a nod to Jon as he served himself a mix of eggs and ham.

Jon looked him over curiously, “Lord Skovgaard,” he nodded back. “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost, rough night?”

Kyel looked at him frowning, “I slept fine.” He said, he did except for that one hiccup in the night. And after that he truthfully slept great beside her. “Are the beds in Riftmere as comfortable as those here?” He asked.

Jon laughed, “Nothing as comfortable as it is here. I bet they stick twice as many feathers in the Whitevale pillows just for the principle of it. Best fish in all of Wendlyn, but I know the North surpasses us in that regard.”

 

[peritwinkle]

The sound of Kyel’s voice and the gentle caress over her temple roused Kaira awake to a room basking in dim morning light. The sheets still smelled of him, but the warmth was no longer there, and she felt a strange emptiness around her middle. She slowly opened her eyes to look at him through her lashes; was it already late? She felt comfortably drowsy and wished they could have lain there for longer.

Riftmere. She had completely overlooked their leave. In that moment, she was thankful for not having much to pack, but the thought of riding in the cold wind and brisk drizzle shook her out of her trance. She watched him walk out of her room, closing the door behind him, before she eventually sat up on the edge of the bed in an attempt to urge herself to get ready. She had started to undo the cord of her robe when the door opened again, and Kaira’s hands quickly pulled the fabric back at the sight of Elisif.

“Good morning,” the woman flashed her a bright smile. She held a tray of food in her hands, which seemed carefully put together, matching the overly polished look she donned herself. A pang of guilt washed over Kaira as she stood up, lowering her eyes.

“I had been meaning to come see you last night,” she explained, “but I opened your letter quite late. I-”

“Well, it’s a good thing you are free this morning,” she shrugged her shoulders and came to place the tray on the bed, then took a seat on the edge and pushed it closer to her. “Come sit with me. I am sorry I came unannounced, but I did not wish to leave the tension from the feast to linger over our travel.” Her expression became more serious then, but her gaze remained warm, forgiving. “I heard you quite enjoyed the chocolate cakes. I had been meaning to bring some to you, but I learned they were all out of them this morning.”

Kaira reclaimed her seat slowly and kept her arms wrapped around herself. Had she seen Kyel leave on her way in? The room was uncomfortably cold, or perhaps she was simply still weighed by languor. She reached for a slice of bread with jam and washed the first bite down with warm, frothy milk. She could still taste the sourness of wine on the back of her tongue, but the sweetness of the jam quickly doused it.

Elisif sighed. “Kaira, I-”

“I was wrong,” she quickly stopped her with a nod. “I am sorry for mistrusting you. I only hope you can understand I… found myself in a strange place. I still do not know who to trust. But I should have thought twice before turning away from you at the feast.”

The woman pursed her lips again and rested her hands on her protruding belly. “I am glad you could overlook those rumours. I have no intention to lie to you, Kaira. I do not mean to humiliate or hurt you.”

The honesty in her voice was genuine, and Kaira took her words to heart. Closeness was not something that came to her naturally, but she supposed she could try to make an exception. The woman was alone in the world, now burdened with a child, and the last thing she probably cared for was foundationless gossip and childish arguments. She took another bite out of her toast, before placing it down on the plate and finally building the courage to look up at her.

“I have been meaning to ask you about my mother,” she said. “You said you knew her. I would like to know how… When?” Did she know her brother as well, or her father? There was much she wished to ask, for she remembered close to nothing from her few years before the fire. She had been young then, innocent, ignorant. Each time she mustered the energy to look back on the past, all of her memories were overshadowed by the smell of smoke and the screams of her mother calling for her children.

Elisif straightened her back, one finger trailing over an embroidered pattern on her dress. “Well… It is no secret I was betrothed to Kaelan before I could even read or write,” she began, her gaze deepened in thought. “The other families deemed this match as rushed and unfair. They had their own offspring, perhaps indeed more beautiful than I was at the time, but it was still me that his parents chose for him. And when I grew and flourished, just before we were old enough for him to begin to formally court me, I… fell ill.” She stopped for a brief moment to catch her breath.

“Ill?” Kaira murmured.

“A curse. A hex, more so, likely from one of the bitter mothers. It was what my mother said, for she brought every healer money could buy, and none of them were able to stir a concoction fit for my ailment. Until one day, when a woman came unannounced, uncalled for, as if she had heard from word of mouth that Lord Kaelan’s young flower was withering.”

Her mother. Kaira’s neck tensed and she found herself drawing slightly closer in curiosity. How could she have known of it? Did she have visions, as well?

“I cannot remember what she did, or what she gave me,” Elisif admitted, “but I know she asked for nothing in return. My parents tried to offer gold, cattle, fabric... She said she knew me, and she said I could repay her another time.” Looking up at her, Elisif analysed Kaira’s features and a soft smile washed over hers. “I think that she somehow knew we would cross paths one day, Kaira. I do not know the extent of her abilities, but that woman… I will never forget her. I could never forget her name.”

Silence fell between them like a heavy shroud. Kaira’s throat was tight and she felt her heart twisting painfully. She would give anything to see her through her eyes. After so many years, she could not even recall her face, only the sound of her voice. “Did you know my father? Or my brother, Nikolai?”

Elisif shook her head and leaned to take a sip of her milk tea. “I barely remember anything then. I was feverish, so close to the claws of death. But no, I do not think so. She might have been accompanied by them, but to me, she came alone.”

Had Nikolai been born at the time? She could not recall his exact age, either, only that he was a few years older than her, already playing with the older children outside, while her mother only allowed her in their small garden of herbs. For a short second, she caught a whiff of lavender and sage which grew like weed around the wooden fence their father had built around the garden. Elisif was likely right, a Volur rarely offered their help without payment, and from what she could remember, they lived quite modestly. Had it come to her in a dream, as well? Had she seen the future as it would be, or merely knew her duty? Kaira wished she could ask her those questions in person, and knowing she never would was agonizing.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel finished prepping his horse, mounting him as he watched the tall towers outside the Whitevale castle walls. Not a piece of stone looked crumbled or worn and Kyel wondered what pride lay in keeping a castle looking new rather than strong, old and forbidding. He whistled, calling Felix to his horse's side. Beor led the detail, and Kyel let Felix run ahead to walk alongside the older man on his horse. Kyel hung back until he fell beside Bastain and Islea. “Ser Bastain? Dame Sulfield?” He asked, he knew any important news would be shared with the group, but he also knew the three council members of Greenwall kept information between one another sometimes. “Has there been any updates on Alastair’s position?” He asked.

“No updates. He is gathering resources preparing as we are.” Islea spoke calmly. “I do fear the King’s allies in Wendlyn are keeping an eye out on us and following offering better deals. Bailin Pyke would be easily swayed with enough capital. If the Pellietiers decide to go through with courting he will stay loyal. I do pray to the gods he will stay loyal regardless.” She commented.

Kyel nodded, no news other than what they knew. He knew their journey to gather more houses could prove difficult. Bailin Pyke was easily swayed, and Eric Pellietier already had a decent relationship with the council due to Jon. Elisif’s support would sway many other houses, and that he was grateful for. But he also knew Kaelan’s death would deter some as well. Every man was taught a lesson when they were a child, in time of war choose your side with care, and only if they have the chance to win. Was their chance enough? With Kaira he thought so.

Most of that day's travel had been made, despite the looming winter approaching the land by the rivers and brooks proved greener than the drier area of Whitevale. Dusk poked at the corners of the sky and Kyel wondered if they would take up camp closer to the forest edge or keep close by the river for convenience. He watched as Beor directed his horse to the left slightly, at the edge of the wood it was. The streams that pulled off the river and ran through the dark edges of the forest made the ground slightly damp and muddied with rotting leaves. It would be a cold night, and the lack of warmth from the ground would not help.

Kyel admired the large cedar and white oaks mixed with the dominance of pine that stood tall and straight. The soldier pines in the north stood like towers compared to these. Still the trees pressed close and shut out a good chunk of the sun. The air felt fresh and green in the damp air of the forest. The group dismounted and began making camp. Kyel watched as Jon pulled the food Lord Bailin had sent with them and he began a fire pulling a small can from his pocket and dusting it into the base, he then watched as Jon struck the flint once and immediately the fire ignited. He grinned down at his little concoction can and stuffed it back into his bag. Jon looked for Kaira then, "Can you start fire that quick Grimward?" He teased.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira rode by Elisif’s side ever since they left Whitevale. Although she would miss the softness of the sheets and comfortable pillows, she was thankful they would not have to spend another day under Bailin Pyke’s roof. He had promised he would send a few men directly to Riftmere, but Kaira made a mental note to remind Ser Beor to write him a letter when they got there, just in case he happened to forget. Ser Bastian had promised he had mobilized troops from Greenwall as well, and Elisif would have to send a letter of her own to Ser Tokesten back at Elvgard for the same purpose.

The two of them chatted scarcely down the path up North towards Riftmere. Elisif’s belly clearly weighed her, for she seemed to have a hard time keeping her balance and speaking at the same time. As daylight dimmed, snowflakes began to fall down from the sky, small and sparse, quickly melting against their faces and warm clothes. Kaira could not recall the last time she had seen abundant snow; Yllevad was right by the sea, a cluttered port that never rested, and no snowfall managed to cover the busy streets for longer than one night. It rained quite often, and the storms were ravaging, with ships creaking in the dead of night and waves crashing loudly like thunder on earth.

When night came, they made camp somewhere close to the woods. It was better this way, shielded from the wind, but Kaira worried about the bears and wolves that would smell their food. They were a small group, small enough for a beast to tackle, which meant the duty of their protection fell on her shoulders more than the small number of guards that traveled with them. Truthfully, she felt like the entire trip would be a responsibility for her. Riftmere was far enough that they could cross paths with many on their way there, but her only solace was that, for as long as they were out under the skies, her prophecy could not come true. At the very least, the possibilities were too low to be considered.

From whom should she expect betrayal? Elisif, whose life her own mother had saved? The elders, who had fought with Kyel for her salvaging?

Her eyes fell on Jon as soon as he called her name. He was trying to make a fire, and the spark did come rather quickly, but it was not nearly enough to warm a cup of tea. Kaira kneeled next to him and, placing her palms on the ground, she stirred the flame awake, higher above the ground. “And I did not even need a flint or timber,” she smirked at him. His talent was impressive, but she had no intention of handing him the victory.

“Have you camped before?” Elisif asked with a smile as she threw a piece of fabric on a log by the fire and sat down.

“In a forest close to Yllevad,” she nodded as she watched Jon take out some food. “The King allowed me to hunt when I was feeling… inapt for work. We hunted, though I preferred to watch. I was never too good with a bow.”

“Hmm,” Elisif canted her head. “You should learn. I find it strange that you stuck with a sword. I always thought Volur fought farther away from the center battlefield.”

“I have heard of some who do prefer the bow and arrow, but a sword or dagger is still ideal,” Kaira explained. “Most abilities require at least one hand, and it is much easier to multitask with a blade. You cannot simply charm every arrow in your quiver. When magic was created, I suppose the Gods found a way to balance it.” Those spells took time, and only worked on blades. “It would be unfair to aim from here and watch a soul die up there, without a chance to fight back.”

 

[pointmango]

Jon watched Kaira as she knelt and his little flame erupted into a full blown fire with her touch. He shook his head but he was still grinning, “Well I will have to give you that one,” he mused. As Jon began with the food, he glanced at Elisif and Kaira as they spoke. “Bet you can stick that hand out and char up any beast that crosses your path,” Jon smirked.

At Kaira’s next words though Jon’s chest tightened, “That’s war, Grimward,” he spoke, his mood slightly soured recalling when he sent his bow of fire to the ignite on Alastair’s army’s side. With one arrow Jon killed hundreds, maybe even thousands of men. He had allowed them to take Kaira too with the trick as she had tried to stop the flames. The yells of the men working for a living in the King’s army plagued him in the night. It was Alastair who deserved to burn alive, not his disciples who may have had no other choice.

Still, Jon mustered himself up as Lord Skovgaard approached the fire, “My wildfire will beat your Volur fire any day I reckon.” Jon grinned. He hadn’t invented the great mix of powder to ignite such a beast of flame, but he thought his modifications to the mix helped, perhaps made it better. Truthfully he’d never know, to know the pain of wildfire was to face death only moments after. “Can you control it?” He asked, “Fire, but I suppose any magic too, if you send a gust of something large upon another person, can you reel it back in?” He was so curious about magic and even more fascinated when Kaira used it. He’d have to challenge her more often.

Kyel listened to the mindless discussion, he positioned himself on a small stoop sitting closer to Kaira than he was Elisif. He kept his eyes on the fire, having to truly find the will not to look at Kaira. They had finished with the tents and tying the horses. He was certain Beor, Bastain and Islea were speaking to their traveling guards about shifts of patrol around the small camp throughout the night.

When the council member approached the fire Jon was serving out small bits of food to everyone. He waved one of the guards over and sent him with a good chunk of food to the other guards as well. “Speaking of fire, I have a question for my elders,” he smirked, “Best display of wildfire you’ve ever seen?” He asked leaving the floor open to anyone of the three of them.

 

[peritwinkle]

Elisif’s eyes narrowed at Jon’s next words, although she could not deny he was right. They could no longer play fair, nor expect victory to come without a devastating amount of casualties. She only slept well at night knowing it was for the better, and that without this, without Greenwall’s initiative, they might have remained under King Alastair’s reign for long enough for him to become completely invincible. She could only hope that the Gods would not bless him with offspring, for he was already getting old, and his wife was, as well. Rumors were mixed and opinions varied, but it was becoming common knowledge that the Queen had had many unsuccessful pregnancies.

At the young Lord’s question, Kaira shook her head. “I cannot simply suck it back into myself once I cast it, if that is what you’re asking,” she replied simply. “Controlling and stopping it is part of my defense training… And as you saw, I was not quick enough about it to stop your wildfire from spreading.” Leon had not been quick enough, either, and she had to give it to them: their plan had worked perfectly, and even if they had aimed for Leon, they had plucked something better, for a sword Volur could not betray his King.

Kaira could feel her mouth water at the sight of food; she had had a proper breakfast, but the absence of lunch made her stomach churn quietly up until that moment. It was certainly not as good as the meals she had enjoyed back at Whitevale or even Greenwall, but she was thankful for anything warm that filled up her stomach. Her gaze moved on to Kyel for a moment; was he avoiding her? He sat close, albeit strangely silent, and she leaned in closer to him. “Do you intend to sleep with your dog?” she asked softly. “I envy you, really. Were it not for this fire, I would probably freeze my fingers off.”

Bastian and Beor came with a bowl each and claimed a seat on the right of Jon, picking at their own bites. The younger man’s eyes narrowed at his question; he knew it was a sensitive subject, particularly for Beor, whose own men had had to suffer. “You should not be proud of it, Jon,” the man said calmly. “Although the prize was worth the damage, those men had names and families. If it ever comes to such thing again, we will have to come up with a less devastating strategy.”

“Oh, there will be devastation,” Beor mused, his eyes lifting to Kaira. “But it is now a risk we should be willing to take. Many men will die. But all of our men are willing to fight for a better Valera.”

 

[pointmango]

Jon was intent on listening to Kaira’s words. Like their own displays of fire, they couldn’t take it back. But at least with training she could develop control. That was something that he knew they would never have. Jon continued passing around some of the bowls of food and when Beor and Bastain sat to his right Jon sat back himself, his attention on the two older men.

Kyel’s attention was on Kaira as she leaned to him, slightly stealing his gaze. Was her question a joke? Was she teasing him? He could not tell, he shook his head lean in just a bit more, “I am sleeping with you,” he spoke in a whisper only she could hear. “I suppose Felix may join us if he does not smell.” He added. His brow lifted just slightly, it was the best equivalent to a smile he could let escape for the moment, “I won’t let you freeze,” he spoke as he pulled back letting his head turn to Bastain and Beor lecturing the foolish Lord Pellietier.

Kyel glanced at the young Lord as he seemed angered by the two older men’s comments. He seemed to be biting his tongue, which Kyel noticed Jon did often whenever he was being reprimanded, which also happened quite often.

Jon shook his head as Bastain and Beor spoke, he was looking for a fun war story not a lecture. Besides he was not proud of his wildfire against the King’s army, while impressive, he felt guilt and remorse that all those lives were lost by his hand. Surely they understood that. Jon sat back pushing spoonful's of food into his mouth then. “Yes, war is devastating,” Jon spoke sarcastically, it was, but dwelling on the sorrows of it all wouldn’t make him want to participate.

“Hold your tongue Jonathan,” Islea spoke using Lord Pellietiers full and real name at his rude comments. “It is not a joke, and we may sit by a fire enticing the idea of great stories of triumph, but our act in that battle was no victory. Both sides lost. And you will do your best to remember there is no pride in men who foolishly boast of the men they have slaughtered on the battlefield.”

 

[peritwinkle]

For a moment, Kaira’s eyes remained on Kyel. He had donned his cloak of pride and callousness ever since leaving Whitevale that morning, but his words did not match the mask he painted on in the least, and she did admire him for that. He was strong and steadfast when needed, yet a part of her could not help but think that he truly cared for her more than his pride. She bit her lip and averted her gaze quickly, pretending to be invested in the last bite of bread as she listened to the small argument between Jon and the elders.

“He is not in the wrong to have done it,” Kaira muttered then. “Had it not been for that fire, you would never have caught me. It could have been planned better, though.” Her neck tensed. She recalled her war training, and how careful Alastair was about protecting his men from the Volur’s line of fire. It was something she would have to discuss with them as well, before the next battle emerged. Defense was the easiest, but that did not mean there would be no casualties, and they knew all too well by now that she often lacked control over her magic.

They dined with small talk in the background, but Kaira did not care to listen to it. She was languished and her eyes were so heavy, she could barely keep them open. She knew that if she closed them, there was a good chance she would fall asleep on the log and fall back into the frozen mud. After they were all done, she was the first to get up from their corner around the fire and headed for one of the empty tents, closer to the woods. She saw Elisif leave with Islea, likely sharing one of the larger tents, but she was content with her smaller one.

Kyel’s words rang in her ears from the moment he spoke them to as soon as her head hit the sheets. The blankets and pillows had been lain on a wooden mattress, thick enough to protect from the cold ground and not too hard on the back. The tent was quite tall, but not as tall as those used by Alastair’s men, which meant she would have to mind her head when getting up in the morning. She could sit up comfortably, but walking on her feet would require some bending of the nape.

‘I won’t let you freeze.’ She wished he had not said that. She wished she could close her eyes that night and not expect him to keep her warm and watch over her. He had lied in saying he would treat any of his allies the same way, but when asked if he cared, he had said nothing. Kaira’s chest tightened. As soon as the war ended, if they both lived, he would likely go on to live in the North, take a Northern Lady as a wife and forget about her, whilst she knew she would never forget him. Whether it was a childish love or genuine care, she could not tell, and the thought that neither would end well hurt almost as bad as her bruised ribs.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel’s gaze glanced to Kaira again as she muttered about the strategy made at their first battle. Kyel had watched the scene from afar, he had seen her in action and he had seen her fall. He had felt hope when she fell, thinking perhaps they could have destroyed another Volur once and for all, and now it pained his chest to think he felt such satisfaction in the idea of her death. She was right though, had it not been for the fire they wouldn’t have caught her. And if it wasn’t for Lord Pellietiers hesitation and Kaira’s foolishness to run in to try and control the beast she would not be here. Their flawed strategy had worked in their benefit, they had gained a Volur who could help them, their mistake made the fight against Alastair fair. Kyel wondered what other mistakes could turn in their favor.

Kyel stayed at the fire, the women were the first to leave. He didn’t let his eyes follow anyone away from the fire, instead keeping his head forward. Soon Bastain and Beor bid the two Lord’s goodnight and Kyel was left with Jon. By the gods he prayed the spritely Lord would turn in soon.

Jon looked at the man sitting across from him at the fire, he let out a low huff, “Well I don’t suppose you have any pleasing war stories?” Jon asked him, little hope in his tone.

“Go to bed Pelletier,” Kyel said finally as he stood up himself. He watched Jon mockingly repeat his words under his breath. Kyel stopped and he turned back to the younger Lord, “Jon,” he said, speaking his name then, “If you want to prove yourself to your brother, remember what the Greenwall council has taught you. You are bright when you think before you speak.” Kyel said, the slightest upturn of his lips appeared.

Jon smirked at the older Lord as he saw the slightest bit of emotion coming from his lips, “Go to bed Skovgaard, the warmth from the fire is melting your frozen heart,” he laughed as Kyel frowned and then headed for his own tent.

Kyel whistled for Felix and he entered his own tent and dressed down. He waited in his tent for what he thought was an ample amount of time, he couldn’t hear any guards outside and so he took his blanket and nudged Felix who had already laid down. “Come on boy,” he whispered. Kyel opened his tent and glanced around, no one in sight. He moved to her tent positioned close to his own thankfully. He opened the slit of the tent and entered slowly, seeing her already bundled in the small bed. He motioned for Felix to enter, and the dog entered quickly moving over to Kaira to smell by her feet. Felix's mouth opened slightly as the dog moved to greet her face, “Hey,” Kyel said quickly in a whisper speaking to the dog. He snapped and pointed to the floor at the end of the bed, “Come, touch,” Kyel spoke as the dog came to him quickly and pressed his nose to Kyel’s hand. “sit, down.” The dog laid down and Kyel pat his head.

Kyel’s attention turned to Kaira, Felix never approached many strangers without Kyel’s permission. Since having him he knew the dog had grown sweet on the Greenwall council and a few of his own trusted council members at home. Kyel had noticed when Felix walked beside her instead of him when they walked around Greenwall those first few days knowing one another, waiting to be pet until she obliged. “As ferocious as he looks, all he wants is to run about and be patted,” he shook his head.

Kyel moved into the bed with her then, he pulled both blankets over them and in the size of the bed their closeness was inevitable. One of his arms wrapped around her slightly, “It’s not that cold, is it?” He teased.