Chapter 25
Kyla felt the warmth of the fire on her face and a heavy blanket over top of her. She kept her eyes closed as her memory processed what had happened. She knew she was in the cabin. She could hear the wind howling outside and felt the boards creaking under the strain. A draft snuck in under the door and she pulled the blanket tighter around her neck. The familiar scent of rough lumber and fresh tea drifted her way.
"Kyla, I know you're awake," Feyre said beside her.
"No, I'm not," she answered, keeping her eyes closed. She took a few more breaths and then pinched her lips. "I'm in the cabin, aren't I?"
"You're in a house. That is made out of wood. A wooden house with multiple rooms. This room is the living space and upstairs there are bedrooms. There's even a back door because Illyrians say that only an idiot would build a house with only one exit, and they do have a point on that one."
With a sigh Kyla opened her eyes and looked straight into the fire. Maybe if she didn't look around, it wasn't really there. If she kept her eyes on the fire then the rest of the room would fall away and she would find herself...anywhere but in a cabin in the woods. A tent, a cave, a street corner would be better than suffocating in here.
She sat up slowly on the couch and pinched the bridge of her nose before looking up. Mor gently opened her hand and placed a mug of tea in it. She looked up gratefully and then took a sip. "So, that could have gone better."
"How do you feel?" Feyre asked.
"Foolish," she answered. "I wasn't thinking straight. All I could see was a cabin and...I lost it." And a fox. She had seen a fox beside the training ring. It was a different fox, logic told her. But she couldn't stop thinking about it. A fox appeared just before she was asked to enter a cabin in the woods. Was she reading too much into it? She frowned and came back to the present. "How is it that I'm in the not-cabin-house when I should be lying in the snow in itty-bitty pieces?"
Feyre got up and went to the stove to scoop out some roasted vegetables and chicken onto a plate. "Lord Devlon may be a complete ass, but he is a very experienced warrior and delivered only a controlled blast." She looked up at Kyla pointedly. "Still, it was close." She handed over the plate of food.
Kyla took a bite but didn't look up from her plate. "I don't like...I can't handle…" She paused and looked at the fire. "He follows me everywhere. Every time someone comes near I can feel his hands on my body."
Mor and Feyre brought their mugs of tea to the fire and sat down not saying anything.
"Sometimes I wonder if...if I'll ever be able...to be close…" She couldn't seem to finish. Feyre sipped her tea and Mor rubbed her stomach absentmindedly.
"Are you afraid of us? Do you not trust us?"
"It's not about trust. Well it is, but I mean it's not calculated. It's just an instinctual reaction. Survival. Like I've practiced pulling away for so long I can't stop myself now." She took a small bite of food.
"I woke up to find Rhys choking me once," Feyre said suddenly. Mor looked over at her, aghast. Feyre met her eyes and nodded. "He dreamed his wings had been nailed to the bed and Amarantha was on top of him. So he reached up and choked her with his bare hands. I practically had to set the bed on fire to wake him up."
Kyla stared at her open-mouthed and Mor's brows furrowed deeply. "When? When did this happen?"
"Last summer." She looked to the fire and took another sip of tea.
"The summer!? But she's been dead for years! He can't let her haunt him like that anymore," Mor said accusingly. But Feyre just pinched her lips and looked pointedly back at her.
"And you were dumped at the border more than four hundred years ago. Do you have a belly ache tonight or is there a different reason you just placed your hand on your stomach?"
Mor glared at her furiously but snatched her hand away from her torso.
Feyre softened her tone and looked at Kyla instead. "The point is that these things take time. You can't go through something like that and think that everything will be better as soon as it's over. We have good days and bad days. But everyday we move forward and take the steps we can handle. Don't worry about tomorrow's steps until tomorrow." She looked back at the fire and sipped her tea.
"I've spent my whole life slowly dying of loneliness. Now I'm surrounded by people and I can't stand too close to them," Kyla said to the flames. They said nothing for a time before Kyla finally looked around.
"Speaking of people being close, where are the males?"
Feyre sighed and got up to put her cup in the sink. "They went out to play cards and catch up with some friends from their days at camp. I'm sure copious amounts of alcohol will also be involved."
Mor chuckled. "After the little show we put on this afternoon they felt pretty confident no one would come around the house looking for trouble."
"Though Azriel nearly exploded the roof off when he came in to find you unconscious on the sofa. Rhys and Cassian practically had to drag him out the door because he refused to leave his-"
"Sword! He refused to leave his sword behind. No weapons in the homes you know. Too volatile." Mor gave Feyre a cutting look as she collected Kyla's plate and took it to the counter as well.
Kyla just got up off the sofa stiffly and headed for the stairs. "No swords in a training camp? This place makes absolutely no sense," she mumbled as she headed for her bed.
Feyre glared at Mor but didn't say anything. Mor just shook her head and followed Kyla up the stairs.
Azriel's eyes snapped open and he lay perfectly still in his bed. Something had woken him and it wasn't Cassian's snoring. He had grown used to that about three centuries ago. They had stayed out late and had too much to drink, stumbling home as the moon was setting and the storm passed. The wind had howled outside while they ate and drank with males they had worked with for hundreds of years. Some had returned to the camp to train and find mates, others were awaiting new assignments, restless without battles on the horizon.
Azriel's mouth was parched and was reaching for the empty canteen by the bed when he heard the scraping of a chair downstairs. Someone was awake in the night. It could be any one of the family; they all had trouble with the dark things that lurked in the shadows of sleep. He rose and put on his clothes to head downstairs for water.
He saw her before she noticed he was at the bottom of the stairs. His mate was pacing in the main room, pausing every now and again to peer out the window at the blackness beyond. She had on her boots and jacket with the buttons undone, scarf and mittens in her hands. Azriel could feel the anxiety pouring off of her and it made his heart twist to see her in pain.
Rhys had explained what happened when she saw the house and how the panic attack had resulted in the encounter with Devlon. Part of him was so proud of her for fending off the warrior; the training was taking effect. Another part of him was relieved he hadn't been present when Delvon had hit her, because he would have incinerated this whole place in an instant.
But mostly he was devastated that once again he hadn't been there to protect her. He stayed away to keep his emotions under control and give her space, but he should have known what she would think of this house and how similar it was to the Cabin. He should be using his head and looking out for her, not hiding in the shadows like a coward. The others wouldn't have been able to see the trap she felt; that was his responsibility. He was so terrified of being around her. That he would lose control and frighten her away. She could barely stand the touch of another person, he didn't know if she would ever be able to be near a male again.
Now she paced up to the door and put her hand on the handle then pulled it back and clenched her fists. She turned away from the door and walked back to the table wringing her hands. She sat down and bounced her knee anxiously then got up and grabbed a glass of water off the counter.
Azriel stepped out from the stairs deliberately sounding his steps so she could hear him coming. But she was wound so tight the sudden sound in the quiet house caused her to jump and drop the glass. She cringed back as it shattered on the floor.
"Crap," she whispered under her breath. Without looking up she grabbed a cloth to begin wildly wiping it up. "You startled me." Her movements were rushed and careless and she cut up her hands trying to collect all the glass. Azriel rushed over and knelt to help.
"Here, take it easy, you're slicing your hands," he said as he picked up some pieces. He put a hand over hers to get her to stop grabbing the glass but she snatched it away.
Kyla looked up at him apologetically and bit her lip. "Sorry. I didn't mean...I…" She swallowed and stood up abruptly. "I need to go. I need to get out. Just for a bit. I know it's...not safe for me to wander through the camp, so I've been waiting for someone to get up. But I'm not sure if it's ever going to be Light. It's going to be Light soon right? The sun will come back? It's been Dark for too long. Long enough."
Azriel stood up slowly trying to emit a sense of calm. Kyla was rambling, not thinking straight. The house was overshadowing rational thought and she was back to being caught in an unpredictable loop of light and dark, never knowing how long a day would last. She was backing away from him and kept glancing to the window. A bump sounded upstairs as someone moved around. Kyla ripped over the door and bolted into the night.
"Kyla wait!" Azriel grabbed his coat of the hook as he darted into the pre-dawn darkness after her.
The air had warmed in the night. The vicious winds had been a front coming through, triggering a temperature inversion. This relieved him as Kyla had left her hat and mitts on the table and he knew a human couldn't handle the temperatures of the mountain camp in winter for long. He hustled down the trail, throwing on his jacket as he raced after her.
Kyla wasn't running but had her hands jammed in her pockets, shoulders hunched against the chill. Her head was down as she stalked between the tents and homes of the camp. In the distance Azriel could hear the lingering sounds of revelries, mixed with the sounds of people rousing to start cooking fires.
He caught up but kept a healthy distance away. "Kyla, where are you going?"
"East. I'm going east. And I'm going to keep going east for a bit. See that star on the horizon? It's the Morning Star. Rises just before the sun, always in the east. As long as that star is in front of me, I'm going east. And not turning around, not towards the Cabin."
"Kyla, we aren't at the Cabin. We're at a training camp in the Night Court."
But Kyla just kept marching. "Ah good. Then going east shouldn't be a problem." She stumbled over the uneven snow but plowed on. Her head was down and she paid no attention to her surroundings but kept glancing up at the star to make sure it was still there.
The tents began to thin as they reached the edge the camp. Azriel knew this part. Where Cassian had grown up, fighting his way to food and clothes, scraping together the meager existence bastards and the low-born could expect. Here at the fringes life was hard and brutal. This was not where he wanted his mate to be in the hours before dawn.
"Kyla you need to stop! We should go back. It isn't safe here."
"Safe? It isn't safe anywhere apparently. I'm not interested in safety, and I'm not going back. I'm never going back there. I will never be trapped in that limbo again. Never dying, but not really alive. What was the point? Why stay? No I will die-" She tripped in the snow and face-planted.
Azriel walked over to pull her up but she scrambled to her feet. "I wish you wouldn't talk about dying so much," was all he said. She brushed the snow off her face and jacket.
"I'm not afraid of dying," she said. "I'm afraid of never getting to live." She turned and stalked off.
"Kyla, I'm serious. This is a rough part of camp, we should turn around."
"I thought you were one of the most fearsome Illyrians of all time? Some riff-raff shouldn't be too much for you to handle," called over her shoulder. "Or are you afraid?" She was angry and trying to get a rise out of him.
"I am afraid," he said bluntly. Kyla halted mid-step and faced him. "I'm afraid all the time of what will happen to you. I have been since you told me you wanted to go sailing. I see your kindness and free-spirit and I'm afraid of what this terrible world will do to you."
Kyla stared up at him, her breath clouding the chilly air between them. "I don't know where I am. I don't know how to move forward," she confessed.
Her honesty cracked open his heart. He could see only her as the rest of the camp blurred into darkness. This mortal who had sacrificed herself to save him. She had saved him at the Cabin, and now her love of life had pulled him out of the shadows.
But she was hurting and he couldn't fix it. She needed someone who had been there, who understood her fears, and he was too afraid to reach out and help her. He stepped closer and for once she didn't pull back. He reached up to touch her face but her eyes went wide and shifted behind him.
"Azr-" He was ripped back and thrown to the ground. Kyla lunged forward but two arms wrapped around her picking her up off her feet like a child.
"This is just too good," snarled a voice to the side. "We picked up your scent halfway across the camp. A mortal? Really? That's low, even for a bastard like you."
It was the son of an Illyrian lord who had been humiliated by Cassian and Azriel years ago. Illyrians placed so much value in pure blood, the shame of being defeated by bastards had haunted his career. The bitter sentiment was prevalent at the camp and one of the reasons Azriel hated coming here. So common were males looking to bring him down, he couldn't even remember this one's name.
Kyla thrashed in her captor's arms, twisting and kicking the air. The warrior approached her and sniffed.
"Unfulfilled too? I'm not surprised that even a human doesn't want you. Or maybe she's just waiting for something better. Perhaps we'll test her out and report back, shadowsinger." He reached over and ripped open the front of Kyla's jacket.
At her scream, Azriel exploded. The warriors pinning him down were launched through the air and Azriel was on his feet before they hit the ground. He slammed his fist into the throat of another while reaching around and pulling out his opponent's blade. Two more warriors attacked from the sides but Azriel spun and took them down in one motion.
The Illyrian holding Kyla dropped her and reached for his sword but he had barely drawn in it when Azriel hacked off his arm. Blood spurted over Kyla's face and front as she scrambled clear.
"I've been waiting a long time for this," said the nobleman's son. He swung high and flipped but Azriel saw the move coming and knocked the male's feet out on the landing, driving his sword into his stomach. The rest took to the skies and fled.
The crunch of boots on the snow brought Azriel out of his warrior's trance and he saw Kyla's back racing into the darkness at the edge of camp. He leapt up and chased but not in time. The ground dropped away and Kyla careened down a slope, clawing at the snow to arrest her slide. Azriel launched himself into the sky just as she dropped off the edge.
He could see her face as she fell through the air, arms flailing as she though she might slow herself down. He pinned his wings back and dove straight down the side of the mountain. Kyla saw him above her and reached up. He clasped her arm and pulled her into his chest as his wings spread wide and caught the air, sending them soaring up the valley. She didn't squirm or try to push off, but clung to him with both arms as he flew them to a nearby ledge.
Azriel landed gently and set Kyla's feet on the ground. He let her go immediately to give her space, but instead of snatching her hands back and stumbling away, she buried her face in his chest and a sob escaped her lips. Ever so slowly he brought his arms up and wrapped them around her gently. He held his breath waiting for her to push away but she only squeezed him tighter and he could feel the sobs shaking her body.
His knees buckled and he clung to her as he sat down abruptly, overcome with emotion. He didn't say anything as she wept in his arms. It was the first time he had seen her cry. After the attack at the Cabin, she had been resigned. After he fixed her shoulder, she had absorbed the pain. When she woke from nightmares, she was frustrated. When she was lost in the market, she was terrified. When she stood on the ledge below the House of Wind, she was determined. But she had never wept in front him.
And now it was like all those tears were escaping, overflowing down her face. The tears mixed with blood to paint a gruesome image. But she couldn't stop and he didn't wipe them away.
They sat in silence together on the cliff edge, watching the Morning Star disappear and the sun light up the mountain peaks. Alpenglow painted the hillsides rose and accented the blood in Kyla hair. Without saying anything Azriel scooped her up and glided of the ledge.
He carried her over the camp and back to the house that reminded her so much of the place she hated. He wished he could take her home directly, but there would be consequences to the attack that just happened and they needed to stay and work through them. He saw that the camp was fully awake with cook fires smoking and children running about. Kyla, however, had run out of tears and fallen asleep in his arms. He wanted to hold her forever.
He landed gently in the snow in front of the house as the door flew open and Cassian and Mor rushed out to meet them. Cassian took one look at the blood soaked mortal and coiled to leap into the sky.
Azriel shook his head quickly. "She's asleep, that's all. Exhausted." He walked past them into the house. Upstairs, Cassian pulled back the covers of the bed while Mor peeled off the blood soaked jacket and boots. Azriel lay Kyla down gently and pulled the blankets over her, closing the door and returning downstairs.
Azriel had blood smears down his front but no injuries of his own. He collapsed onto the couch. "She was up all night waiting for someone who would walk with her away from the Cabin-the house-because she knew she couldn't go out alone. But I messed up. She started to open up and I lost control briefly. The males picked up the scent...it was bad."
"Devlon banged down our door not long ago. Some lord was claiming you maimed his son when he walked in on you forcing yourself on 'the mortal'. Said he's got witnesses including a friend who's short an appendage now." Cassian actually smiled at that. "Seems this son-of-a-lord forgot that Rhys can pull the truth out of their minds so it doesn't matter what stupid lies they concoct."
Azriel stood. "We'd better go. Mor will you stay and help her when she wakes up?"
"I'll take down the mirror in the bathing room. Get the blood off before she sees," Mor said gently.
With that Azriel and Cassian headed for the door and the camp beyond, Siphons blazing.