Page 159 of The Eye of the Fifth
Kyra hoped she might catch Zuriel’s eye, perhaps let her see the true remorse she felt, but the Eternal seemed intent on ignoring her existence. Chin held high with importance, her gaze never lingered on the space where Kyra sat. Almost as if she were not there at all.
Despite herself, Kyra couldn’t blame her.
The Fire Warden was about to be trialled for his crimes against Nythanor, questioned for his apparent betrayal of the Empress of Zarynth. The room waited in near silence for the prince to arrive with his escorts.
Naal headed the table, the chair directly opposite her vacant, Kyra supposed, for the Fire Warden to fill. Maida sat to Naal’s right, followed by a male Kyra didn’t know the name of, then Kano, who looked as though he would rather be anywhere else.
The poor boy still had no memory of who he was. Kyra made a mental note to attempt again to bring it back, after this ordeal was over.
The room was not built to sit more than the eight people at the table, especially with great feathered wings to contend with. But Naal hadalso invited some witnesses. Kawai was amongst a standing congregation of Eternals, and a woman of early to mid-thirties with auburn hair whose olive, freckled skin was somewhat ashen. She was as stony faced as the warriors around her, and Kyra might have been convinced by the indifference if it were not for the fact she was twisting her hands in front of her. The only tell that she was nervous.
The Fire Warden’s companion, no doubt.
Any chatter dwindled to silence as Naal stood. Despite their altercation the night before, Kyra had to admit that Naal’s ice cold, no-bullshit demeanour was impressive. She was every bit the famed, wise, warrior Air Warden in this moment. ‘Bring him in.’
Kyra’s heart leapt into her throat.
Last night she heard Gedeon Dewmaul’s voice for the first time, in real time, and not through a projection. In seconds, she would lay her eyes upon his face. In the flesh.
For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to turn around as the door opened.
No one said a single word. Yet the anger and hatred that sizzled through the room was palpable. A quiet, simmering contempt so thick it felt deadly.
At least they hatedhimmore than they hated her right now. A small, stupid relief.
The chair beside her scraped, and the two Eternals who had flanked him shoved him in front of it, then moved to stand guard behind.
The prince’s hands were shackled in black iron, his skin covered in cracked sores. Kyra forced her gaze up his body, which was clad in plain beige Nythanorian robes that looked strange on him, until finally, she beheld his face.
They’d done him the courtesy of trimming back his beard to stubble, and pulling his waving black hair from his strong face. He was not the frozen mess he’d been the last time she’d seen him. In fact, he looked relatively fresh for someone who had been locked in a cell of ice for weeks on end.
And… beautiful.
Profoundly beautiful, in ways she had never bothered to notice in their projections. Was it the way he stood, with his shoulders held regal and firm? Or the slight bump in the ridge of his nose? Or the small dip in his chin, or the cheekbones chiselled from stone?
No. It was none of those things.
It was something else entirely.
A something she could not name.
Obsidian eyes slid to hers, and Kyra could have sworn she saw pure starlight shining in the depths of them. They stared at one another, barely blinking, barely moving a muscle, and yet the world around them was tipping. Spinning. Jolting.
For a moment, Kyra’s skin was faintly aglow. She clamped down on it with all her might, willing it to disappear. If someone had seen-
Someone cleared their throat, and the Fire Warden ripped his eyes from hers.
Breathe, you fucking idiot. Breathe.
Why had she held her breath? She was losing her mind.
Naal’s voice rang out, cold and flat. ‘Gedeon Dewmaul. You are here to stand before the Eternal council and Droria’s Wardens for your crimes against Nythanor and for crimes against the nature of the Warden and by extension, the Mothers themselves. Do you deny these accusations?’
Unable to help herself, Kyra risked a glance up at the Fire Warden. His attention was fixed on Naal. ‘No,’ he said, his low voice soft yet rumbling.
‘Do you admit,’ Naal went on, ‘that the destruction of Phaenon city was committed at your hand?’
The Fire Warden peered at the wine-haired woman next to Kawai. Her freckled face was stricken. ‘I do,’ he said firmly.
