Chapter Thirteen

“Kyann.” I recognised Vashri by his voice. By the time he found me, there was a pile of shrivelled barley stems beside me. And my eyes were so glazed with tears all I could make out was his shadow against the moon’s light. “Don’t leave us, Kyann. Don’t run.”

“I’m not running.” I sighed, because that wasn’t true. I wasn’t running, but I knew I might have to. “I came out here to test a theory.”

Vashri settled to the ground, sitting cross-legged beside me.

The tension tearing me in half seemed to ebb. The magic that tied the kings to their guardian was powerful enough that it still provided comfort when the kings were near. How could that be the case when I destroyed all magic I came into contact with?

I lifted one of the dead stalks of grain. “Essa tried to help me regain my magic. All that happened was that I stopped hers working. I didn’t realise what that meant at the time, but I do now.” I looked straight at him. “I destroy magic. I can’t help it.”

“No.” Vashri reached for my hand. “That’s not what your abilities mean, Kyann.”

I wouldn’t let myself be comforted. Not when Vashri hadn’t sat and watched what I could do for the past hour. Whatever I’d said, or done, or thought, the outcome was the same. Every plant I’d touched had been destroyed. “That is what it means. I destroy magic. And if the kings are to defeat the Emperor, I can’t stay with you.” I straightened, taking a deep breath, because the solution was obvious, if hard to face. “I should go to the Emperor myself.” It hurt to think that I’d been so close to a solution, if only I’d known. I shouldn’t have dragged Essa away from the Stalwart Emperor. I should have thrown myself at him, wrapped my arms around him and stolen all his magic. I hoped I’d be able to get close enough to do so now.

“No.” Vashri’s expression darkened. He squeezed my hand. “We won’t let you face the Emperor alone.”

“You have to. I can’t stay here and weaken you.”

“You do not weaken us.” Vashri’s fingers tightened. I could feel the earnestness of his words. But just because you wanted something to be true, didn’t make it so. “You make us stronger.”

I shook my head. “I helped to find the Tears of Giera.” My voice faded, robbed by the horror of what might have happened. “What if I’d destroyed it?”

“You cannot destroy it. You are strong, but not that strong. The Gems of Giera were created by the goddess.”

My cheeks flamed. Was I arrogant now, to think I was dangerous? But no, Essa and Leea were proof of my powers. And the kings weren’t gods. They were as mortal as I, for all that they’d slept for centuries. “I know that, but in my own way I am toxic to magic.” I looked at him. “Why do you even want to take the risk of keeping me close?”

“Because you are a part of this. You are a part of us, Kyann. You might as well ask me to remove my arm. We need you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. Balance must be returned to Charnrosa, and you are a part of that.”

“I destroy – is that supposed to balance what you create?” I demanded bitterly.

“No.” Vashri took my hand, cradling and stroking it. I braced against the soothing touch. “We push magic out while you draw it inwards.” His brown gaze burned into me. “Both are needed, the way a breath must be drawn in before it can be released. One without the other is useless.”

I wanted to believe him, to throw caution to the winds that he could control so well and chance that matters would work out. But I was the guardian. And as the kings themselves had pointed out, I wasn’t the guardian of the four kings, I was the guardian of Charnrosa. I had to do the right thing for the Empire, even if it tore my heart out. “But if breath is stopped entirely, the animal will die,” I said.

“No one has died. You mustn’t despair, Kyann. The five of us are bound together by the magic that first sent us to sleep. We are all needed to keep Charnrosa safe.” My hand warmed, Vashri’s comfort stealing up my arm and into my heart. If we could touch like this and I didn’t destroy his magic… But I was allowing my desires to eclipse my sense. I didn’t want to be separated from the four kings. But the good of Charnrosa was too important for me to flinch from what had to be done.

I couldn’t let the kings take a risk that might prove fatal – to the Empire as well as any of them. “How could I forgive myself if I stole your magic and that prevented you from stopping the Stalwart Emperor?”

“I will show you that you cannot harm the kings. Will you be persuaded then?”

I wanted to be persuaded. I wanted to throw myself at Vashri and be reassured. All I allowed myself was a single question. “How?”

“I will use my magic, and you will discover that you can’t stop me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered. I remembered Leea’s pale, sleeping face.

“You won’t be able to. And do you think I care for a little pain when you are so clearly hurting?” He brushed my hair back from where it had fallen over my forehead. I was further strengthened just by that brief touch.

“Do you trust me, Kyann?” he asked, eyes shining in the moonlight.

I opened my mouth. My “Yes,” came out a moment later, low and uncertain. I did trust him. I simply didn’t trust myself.

His lips curved. “I’ll take that for now.”

He shuffled closer, so his knees brushed against my thighs. Instinctively I moved away, afraid that just that touch would ruin his magic. He cupped his hands one inside the other. His gaze stayed intent on me, watching my face as though it were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

It was too much. He shouldn’t be looking at me like that. He wouldn’t, not when he realised how dangerous I truly was. I kept my attention on his hands.

Air collected, swirling dust into a miniature whirlwind as it spun inside his palm. My breath caught again at seeing how beautiful the kings’ magic was.

“Here.” Vashri gathered the whirlwind into one hand, the other reaching for me.

“No, I—” I pulled away.

“You cannot destroy my magic,” he told me, in a tone of such calm certainty that I believed him. I let him take my hand, cradling my fingers. His other hand, the one holding the whirlwind, came closer. “Watch,” he told me. His eyes sparkled, that sense of certainty glowing like an aura around him.

The tiny whirlwind climbed the side of his hand, reaching his thumb. It buffeted against my hand, as though it wanted to come to me. My breath held.

“Relax,” Vashri instructed.

I let out my pent breath and my eyes flickered closed for a second. And I felt the cool sensation as the whirlwind reached my hand, dancing along the edge of my palm to my wrist. As it moved, the spinning air tugged at the tiny hairs on my arm. I couldn’t help it. I giggled as the tickling sensation spread over my skin, sending goosebumps from my hand to my elbow.

I caught my breath and looked at Vashri.

“There. I told you all would be well.” I nodded. “Try to destroy it,” he prompted me.

“No!” I was so relieved his magic hadn’t dissipated as soon as it came into contact with me that I didn’t want to destroy this moment of believing that everything could work out.

“Try it,” he encouraged.

“I – I don’t know what to do.” My response to Leea had been instinctive.

“Try to crush it.” Vashri’s tone remained steady.

I took a deep breath. I’d stolen Essa’s magic when I’d tried to use it. I tried to turn the miniature whirlwind into something different. There was no effect. I closed my eyes and pictured the whirlwind falling to nothing. The tickling sensation came again, moving over my skin. My eyes flashed open in time to see the whirlwind shift back from my hand to Vashri’s.

“See?” Vashri’s voice was as soft as a dove’s wing. “All is well.” He closed his palm and the whirlwind vanished.

I blinked at Vashri’s calm face. “Why didn’t that happen when I was with Essa? I wasn’t trying to destroy her magic, but I still did.”

“With all respect to your sister, she isn’t one of the kings.”

I frowned. “You mean, I can destroy everyone’s magic except that of the kings? What about the Emperor?”

He held up a hand. “The Emperor means us ill. I’m quite sure you’ll be able to use your skills against him.”

“But you can’t be sure?”

His brown eyes filled with calm reassurance. “Nothing in life is certain. But this is worth taking a chance on.”

I blinked at Vashri. The warmth in his eyes made me want to curl up against him like a cat, but I couldn’t let his out-of-character statement pass. “You want to take a chance? You?”

He smiled. “Yes, Kyann, me.”

I folded my arms. “Who are you, and what magic have you used to take the appearance of the king of air?” I demanded.

He laughed. A dimple appeared on his left cheek. I wanted to press the tip of my finger against it. “It’s really me, Kyann.”

“But you worry about everything.”

“I don’t worry about everything,” he argued. “When we first met, I was worried that you were walking into the den of the Emperor without any help. That’s reasonable.” His hand lifted again and he stroked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I was worried for you.”

My mouth dried. Someone who cared for me, someone I could rely on. Someone I didn’t have to be strong for. “No need to worry. I’m tough.” I’d meant the words to be light-hearted, but my voice hitched on the last word.

“You are so strong,” Vashri told me. “And yet…” The back of his hand stroked down my cheek. I shivered at the sensation. “And yet so delicate.”

I wasn’t delicate. I’d spent so long forcing myself to be strong and self-reliant that I didn’t know how to be anything else. I wanted to lean on the kings, but every time a chance occurred I pulled back. After all this time I couldn’t rely on anyone else.

But perhaps now was the time to try.

My gaze dropped to Vashri’s lips. They were full and soft, the shade of a charberry just as it turned ripe. And if I only leaned my head forward, my lips would brush them.

My heart pounded against my ribs. My fingers clenched. Was I trying to pluck up courage to act, or trying to hold myself back from acting?

“Hie there!”

We jumped apart as a voice called out. I scrambled to my feet, willing myself not to blush. Solitary – or throwing myself at the nearest king. There had to be something in-between.

“Help!” Yards away from us on the path was a young man who looked as though he might have been walking non-stop for a week, he was so filthy and ragged. He faltered, hands braced on his knees, heaving in a breath as though it hurt. “Help me, please.”

Then he looked up and shock rooted me to the spot. I recognised him. “Geedan?”