Page 191 of Fearless

I promptly looked over at Kai. “How the hell did she know?”

We spent the rest of that day receiving condolences from the grieving castle. Without a plagued kingdom to worry about, Kai strode stiffly through the hall, his gaze vacant and words scarce. The entire palace had been draped in a sheet of darkness—black curtains covering windows while black clothing draped every body.

Scholars nipped at our heels like shadows, calling after Kai to discuss his coronation. “I am not king until Kitt is laid to rest,” he would say, more toneless than the time before. I knew that he meant it, just like I knew that he was stalling. He did not wish to be king.

We spent that night in the arms of those closest to Kai.

“My boy,” Gail had wailed when he walked into her kitchen. “My sweet boy.”

She held him long enough to burn what food simmered on the stove and cried hard enough that she didn’t care. Jax sobbed against his brother’s chest, mourning the loss of their other half. It was when he started hiccupping that Andy joined, her body shaking with sobs. A few traitorous tears had escaped my burning eyes before Gail pulled me in and wrapped her arms around us all.

The third and fourth day were more of the same. Berating Scholars, a castle in mourning, gossiping Ilyans, grief, tears, sobs. When we could stomach the conversation, solemn Healers circled us in a dim room to swap hushed details of the king’s slow demise. They spoke of his insistence on taking the Plague despite knowing the ramifications, then more hesitantly of his unraveling mind soon after. He was easily agitated, often caught speaking to the empty air or wandering around at all hours of the night.

Kitt was dying long before he forgot to dodge his brother’s advance, we discover. The Healers could not save him, and suddenly, this makes sense after learning the truth of Elites’ limitations. His body was rejecting another dose of the Plague. It was only a matter of time until the sickness unraveled all that he was.

Within the long stretches of sorrow, we spent much of our time in the study, simply staring at everything exactly as he left it. All but the bloodied rug remained. Jax and Andy would sit with us, partly in silence but, occasionally, more boldly in reminiscence. They would swap memories, each one bleeding into the last and lending a smile for fleeting moments.

And that was something.

By the fifth day, that emptiness occupying Kai’s gaze had lessenedslightly. Still, we held each other, just as we had for the past several days. And when he pulled away, he spoke soft gratitude against my skin. “Thank you, Pae. For everything.”

I would smile—it was always sad. “It no longer surprises me when you say that.”

“Good.” His nose brushed mine. “I want you to grow so used to my gratitude that you’re sick of it.”

That night, I slipped the wedding ring from my finger.

And on the sixth day after Kitt’s death, we read his letters.

CHAPTER 71Kai

Dirt smears my sweaty face.

The shovel is slick in my hands, peppering each palm with splinters. Dusk settles behind the willow’s swaying arms as I carve out a patch of earth among its roots. Fresh soil piles beside me; memories surface with each scoop of the shovel.

Kitt was with me the last time I dug a grave beneath this tree. He was at my side, shovel in hand and muddy face mirroring mine. We reminisced about Ava until our laughter turned to tears.

Ava.

Her death was the doing of the man I called “Father.” All because of Edric Azer’s greed for power. He killed my sister with a dose of the Plague. He killed my brother with the need to be great.

My vision blurs. I blink past the anger and grief and urge to crawl into this grave myself.

My brother.

My brother.

My brother is dead.

The shovel slips from between my fingers to land in a cushion of dirt. My knees sink into the damp grass, shoulders shaking with the weight of grief atop them.

His letters are fresh in my mind, each of them a stab in the gut before breakfast this morning. I wasn’t there to protect him from his own thoughts, from the need for greatness that swallowed him whole. He was breaking before my very eyes, tearing at the seams from something more sinister than the stresses of being king.

I’m reminded of that odd shift in his power and curse myself for dismissing the feeling. Kitt’s ability was the first I ever felt, one so familiar I could taste it on my tongue, but still, I failed him.

He had become a pawn to power, and I should have recognized myself in his gaze.

He took the Plague to bemore. And I wasn’t there to tell him he was enough.

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