Page 177 of The Eye of the Fifth
What had Azar promised him, Naal had pondered, for him to so willingly relinquish his throne? Would Therion become a steward of Loros, and not king as he had been for centuries, in Azar’s conquered world? Did he think that once Droria was united under her rule, that he would be able to revolt against her reign, and take power for himself?
Questions. Questions, questions, questions.
With no answers.
Kyra had left Naal and her inner circle of Eternals to deliberate. What good was her voice, when she knew nothing of the world, of Kings and Empresses and warfare? Not to mention she was exhausted beyond the physical. It had taken an obscene amount of magic and energy in order to access Kano’s memories, to banish King Therion’s hold on him once and for all. She’d dismissed herself shortly after delivering the news, and fell onto her sheets the moment she stepped into her room, awakening a good ten hours later in the exact same position she had fallen asleep in.
It was around the time that dinner would be served; she could hear Eternals in the hallway on their way there. But the thought of being in that hall, around Naal and the inner circle with this new omen over their heads, made her want to be as far away as possible.
She knew it was selfish to traipse down to Phaenon City in search of a drink that would numb the senses, instead of staying to brood with the others. But it was hard to care when she was alone, truly alone from any companions for the first time in weeks, tucked away in the corner of the establishment, waiting impatiently for the only drink they seemed to have on offer. It was unlikely to be anywhere near as good as a Sarlalian red but… anything would do at this point.
It wasn’t really a tavern. More a dome shaped hut of stone, covered with skins to keep the warmth of the blazing fire in, and the bitter cold out. At least the people of Phaenon had been able to revert back to some sort of resemblance of their old lives; the hut was crowded, many dancing and chanting around the fire sat blazing in the centre, drinking horns in hand as they moved freely to the lively, thumping beat of a drum.
After a couple of tankards of whatever it was they drank here, maybe she would join them. Take the edge off.
‘Leave the bottle, if you would,’ Kyra said to the maidservant who brought a bone tankard over and poured some amber looking liquid inside. ‘I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.’
The woman frowned at her, and Kyra realised she probably didn’t speak the common tongue. Knowing little to no Nythanorian herself, she passed a few silvers over, probably way too much, and pointed to the bottle. The maidservant nodded her understanding and left, pocketing the coin without complaint.
Halfway through the bottle, she was beginning to contemplate getting up and joining the rosy-cheeked patrons in their wild, primitive and somewhat sexual movements around the fire, when she saw Kawai pushing through the crowd.
Her heart sank.
‘So this is how you’re dealing with things now?’ he said, sliding into the seat opposite her, puffing with the effort of peeling off his many layers. ‘Drinking alone?’
‘Now?’ she stiffly replied, taking a glug of the strong, fiery liquid. It wasn’t overly pleasant, but it was doing its job. Her head was happily swimming. ‘I’ve always dealt with things this way. Nothing new here.’
‘One: that’s a lie. And two…’ He leant forward, his floppy dark hair falling in front of his face. ‘You’re avoiding me.’
Kyra looked away. ‘There’s been a lot on my mind.’
‘Then talk to me.’
‘About what?’
‘Anything. Everything.’
‘Like what?’
He blew out a breath. ‘Fuck, Kyra, I don’t know. Just not this. Not this silence.’
‘I have nothing to say.’
In her peripheral, she saw him lean back, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘No. You just want to fuck when it suits you.’
Kyra stilled, her eyes unblinking and locking on a couple grinding against one another by the fire. His mouth on her neck, her crotch on his leg, their friends laughing and jeering from the sidelines.
She dragged her gaze away and levelled Kawai’s. ‘Do you want it to stop?’
‘No. I just want it to mean something. I thought itdidmean something.’
Kyra willed tears to remain firmly behind her eyes. ‘It did.’
‘So, what? You’ve changed your mind?’
The hurt that flickered on his lovely face had her wanting to scream. She reached for the bottle. ‘I’m not sober enough for this conversation.’
‘Then stop drinking,’ he said through gritted teeth, gripping the bottle’s neck to stop her from lifting it.
