CHAPTER 22 – KYLE

Kyle laid the frail Master on a pile of leaves, propping her head up with her hood. “You gonna be okay?”

Pallas gave him a small smile and nodded.

He breathed a sigh of relief and crawled over to Angeline. “Think you can help a guy out?” he said, extending his charred fists, “I’d wait, but this hurts a hell of a lot more than that candle wax.”

She gently took his hands in hers, examining his burns. “Sorry,” she grimaced, switching on her healing power, calmly stroking his knuckles, syphoning the pain away. After a minute or so, the injuries had vanished completely.

He collapsed next to her and slid an arm across her stomach, holding her close. They took one breath together, then Krystal’s squeaky voice broke their respite.

“Pallas, Abigail. Strength:0. Stamina:0. Status: Deathbed.”

“NO,” Angeline screamed, jerking from Kyle’s embrace. She scrambled over to Pallas, eyes darting, completely lost.

Kyle’s face fell. The old bird hadn’t wanted him to worry. He could tell she was in rough shape when he carried her out of the building, but he had no idea she was that wrecked.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Angeline said, delicately patting Pallas up and down her cheek.

“There was nothing that could be done,” Pallas whispered, lips barely moving. “It’s time, besides.”

“No,” Angeline gasped. “It can’t be. It’s not fair.”

“It’s plenty fair,” Pallas smiled. “I’ve earned my retirement. I’ve been at this war for 119 years.”

Angeline shot Kyle a desperate look. He knew exactly what it meant. The gal’s mind was already gone.

“Do not fear,” Pallas said, limply bringing her hand to Angeline’s. “It is true. Krystal?”

“Pallas, Abigail, age: 162,” the young Diviner said, nodding sincerely.

Angeline’s eyebrows tucked together. “No, that can’t be—"

“Quintana, Angeline, age: 26. Kallen, Kyle, age: 28.”

”Whoa, there, okay, no more creepy little party trick,” Kyle said, raising his hand to Krystal. These were the Master’s last moments, surely she had more important things to do than hear how good she looked for her age.

“Angeline,” Pallas said, pulling a ring from her bony finger. “119 years in this battle, and we’ve never moved closer to victory. Not until today. A hundred Elves and we suffered no casualties, thanks to you. I leave you my post as Master, should you take it.”

Angeline stared down at the black ring, eyes wide. “But I’m not a Diviner.”

“No,” Pallas said, “but now I understand that does not matter. For the first time today, I saw clearly. You united a team of young Blue and Black, and held off an Elven lord and his army with only a single amulet of Red. It’s mettle, not magic, that will win this war. We’ve had it so wrong.”

“I think we need to teach the Diviners to fight. And the Castle Mages. We don’t have to put them on the front line, but we do need to put everyone in the field, if we intend to win this war. We can’t hole up in our Castles.”

Pallas smiled and placed the ring in Angeline’s hand. “I agree.”

Angeline closed her fist around the ring and lifted her gaze to Kyle’s, expression unreadable.

“Angeline,” Pallas gestured weakly for her to come closer.

Angeline leaned in and Pallas whispered in her ear, too quiet for anyone else to hear, save Kyle, and when the Arch-Master’s eyes turned to him, he knew she meant for him to listen too. “Keep that fire burning.”

Pallas sank back on the pile of foliage and took one last breath. Then her fight was over.

Kyle captured Angeline’s gaze, her eyes swollen with words too heavy to say out loud. How different those golden eyes had become in a matter of hours.

“Merlena, Leigh. Age: 42.”

A bovine scoff came from somewhere behind them. “What the hell are you on about? I hope you’re not talking about me. I’m only 29. And what are you all sitting around here for? What the shit did you do to my Castle?!”

Kyle turned.

Merlena, the buxom, blue Viking, waddled toward them, high heels sticking in the mud.

Angeline’s face hardened, all traces of softness wiped clean. She jumped to her feet, amulet glowing red. A burst of narrowed, white flames, shot from her palms, straight at Merlena.

Olga the Obnoxious yelped, but the flames cleared almost as quickly as they’d appeared. For a second, no one moved, unsure what Angeline had done. Then, the gold chain around Merlena’s thick neck snapped, her blue amulet falling to the dirt with a dull slap.

“What the shit?” Merlena screeched, raising her hands reflexively as though she could still shoot magic back at Angeline. “How did you even manage that? Pallas, are you going to let her get away with that!? … Pallas?”

Kyle watched Merlena’s deep set eyes bulge with realization.

“Abigail!” She fell down on her knees and shook the shell of the fallen Arch-Master. She yelled, cried. All of that Queen of England shit gone. All that was left was regret.

“It’s my fault,” Merlena rattled, clutching Pallas to her, “I should have made her come.”

Kyle gritted his teeth. Her fault lay much deeper than that, but now didn’t seem like the right time. Part of him thought she already knew.

Angeline clearly felt the same and let her tormentor continue to grieve.

“She made you a Master, didn’t she?” Merlena said, not even looking up. “The Arch-Master.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe she was right to,” Merlena said, her words barely audible. “Maybe we’ve been going about this all wrong.”

Kyle bit back the ‘no shit’ bubbling on his tongue. This was a big moment here, and as uncomfortable as this stuff made him, he also knew the weight it carried.

Merlena slid her own ring off her polished finger and extended her hand to Angeline. “Don’t make me say it,” she said, waving for her to take the jewelry. “I hope you know how much work you have ahead of you.”

“I know,” Angeline said, taking the ring, “that’s why we’re starting right now.”

Kyle watched as Angeline moved over to the mass of shell-shocked Diviners and Mages. She started giving one of those epic rally speeches you see in movies, except, well, Angie had a weird way of describing things. Her word choice was more than awkward. But hell, it seemed to work. Within a matter of minutes, the faces and gone from terrified to determined, and a few minutes after that she had them running around, gathering supplies from the stables and parts of the building still standing.

By the time Angie turned back to him, she looked like she’d somehow gotten 12 hours sleep and a good meal, like her injuries weren’t even bothering her. Her gorgeous eyes flickered with that determined honey glow, her bruised face all lit up, grinning ecstatically just like when he’d handed her those paint brushes. She walked over, silently grabbed his hand and dragged him into the closest cluster of trees.

Before he could get a word in, she had him pressed up against a boulder, hands on his chest, mouth on his.

Kissing him.

Kyle grinned against her lips and leaned into the kiss, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and back. “Being ‘Master’ really gets you going, doesn’t it?”

She pulled away and raised an eyebrow. “Arch-Master.”

He grabbed her and flipped her around, changing places so that she was the one pinned against the rock. “I thought you liked it when I was in charge?”

“We both know I’m the one who wears the pants,” she said, dropping her hand to cup him through his clothes. “You should probably take these off.”

Kyle laughed and snatched her hands, pinning them above her head. “I’ll take them off when I’m good and ready. First, you gotta be honest with me, Ang. In the past 24 hours, I’ve seen so many sides to you I’m having a hard time keeping them straight. Not that I mind, I like all of them… well except the one that made me leave.”

Angeline’s smile broke. She dropped her gaze to the ground. “I was trying to protect you…”

“I know,” Kyle said softly, ducking his head to capture her stare. He released her hands and slid his own to her shoulders. “And I was trying to protect you too. I think there’s going to be a lot of that between us. The arguing, the bickering. But you know, I like you feisty.”

“Between us. Us? But Kyle… I can’t.”

A pang of hurt socked him right between the lungs. “You can’t?”

“I can’t leave, I can’t—”

“I’m not asking you to leave Angie, I’m asking you to let me stay.” He stepped closer to her, her chest pressed to his. “I thought you wanted to get away from all this, but now I see what you really needed, was the power to change it. You’ve got that Mage ingenuity, that Salamander spark, and Diviner-like foresight. If anyone can turn the tides of this war, it’s you.”

“You want to stay?” Angeline said.

“Hell yeah, Angelface. Being around you… well you make me a better man. I haven’t felt like a man in a long time.”

“Could have fooled me at the rate you mention your big, manly muscles and allude to your giant manly cock.”

“Giant, huh?” he grinned, pressing his hips against hers, making sure she felt said cock.

She smirked and pushed back. Then she lifted her hands to the gold chain around her neck and slipped the crimson amulet over her head. “I suppose you want your giant, manly powers back as well?”

He chuckled and took the amulet in his hand, studying his reflection in the red glass. He shook his head. “Nah, you hang onto it for me. Amulets are going to be a hell of a lot harder to come by, what with this place burned down and with the Elves stealing ‘em. We can share this one for a while.”

With a broad smile tugging at his cheeks, he pushed her hair to one side, and slid the amulet back down over her head, placing the red amulet against the skin of her chest. He chuckled to himself and lifted his gaze to hers.

“What?” she grinned, wrapping her fingers around the hard muscles of his biceps.

He leaned closer, sliding his arms tight around her waist. His voice dropped to a whisper, sweet, sincere. “I trust you, Captain…”

Then that devilish trademark smirk crept back across his face. He ground his hips against hers, dropping his gaze down between them. “…Now what are my orders?”