Storm Without End (Requiem for the Rift King Book 1) (27 page)

Why had he acted at her call? It could’ve been a trap, and he would’ve fallen into it blind. Yet, he couldn’t deny the truth. She hadn’t struck him down despite being an easy target for someone who hid—and shot—as well as she did.

He turned and stalked back toward the clearing with its quaint cottage. He crushed twigs underfoot and twisted his heel to drive each one deeper into the soft ground. Mud clung to his boots and squished beneath the blanket of moss and leaves, and he shivered from the memory of its chill. Yet, for the first time since he’d come to Kelsh, the rain didn’t try to drown him where he stood or freeze his bones.

Satrin stood near the brook with both ears pinned back and teeth bared. Kalen met the golden eyes that burned with the same intensity of the noon sun overhead. “I told you I’d return,” he said.

The Yadesh’s eyes narrowed.

Jumping over the stream, he stopped long enough to look back. Lifting his hand, he showed the fletching to the Yadesh. “This sort of thing common here?”

One ear flicked forward, and the golden eyes focused on the arrow. A nod, then a shake, answered him.

“Hellfires.” He threw the broken shaft down and stomped toward the cottage. She could’ve come from anywhere, then. The Yadesh’s gaze burned into his back. His sire emerged from the cottage and glared at him with arms crossed over his chest.
 

“Where have you been?”

“Fresh air,” he replied. “What of it?”

“Your mother’s ready to kill someone. You, in case you’re curious.”

Kalen dropped down on the bench and bent over to yank at the lace of his boot with his finger and thumb. Mud caked the strings. He picked at it until the knot loosened so he could pull it off. “Satrin knew where I went.”

“Well, he didn’t see fit to share that information with us.”

Kalen glanced toward where the Yadesh stood in the yard. The animal refused to meet his eyes and let out a low snort. “I’m sure if he thought there was a problem, he would’ve told you.”

Had the Yadesh not noticed the fight? If Satrin hadn’t, that served him far better. The less the Delrose family knew about the corpses he tended to leave in his wake, the better off they were. He narrowed his eyes, and then shrugged. “It’s not nearly so cold today.”

“I told you it will be summer soon. If the cold bothers you that much, stay in the kitchen. Maybe even you will be satisfied in there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, kicking off the second boot. “If you’re so eager to be on the move, why are we wasting time here?”

“There is someone I wish for you to meet. He can help with your hand, as well as other things.”

“What other things?” Kalen asked, sat up straighter and stared at his sire. The man refused to look him in the eye.

“It isn’t of import.”

Kalen fought to keep his expression neutral. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Satrin. The stallion lowered his head and pawed at the ground. The Yadesh’s muscles rippled beneath the golden coat. “Fine, keep your secret. I’ve a proposal for you.”

“Let’s talk inside.”

Kalen shrugged, got to his feet, and followed his sire into the cottage. Most of the Delrose family sat in the main room and watched him with open curiosity. He nodded to them in greeting and headed into the kitchen.
 

Lady Delrose glared at him from near the fireplace. “Where have you been?”

“Getting some fresh air,” he replied, dropping down on the bench with a sigh. He stretched out his legs under the table. An unfamiliar scent hung in the air, heavy with spice. Heat seeped into his muscles and the tension flowed out of him.

“From dawn till noon?”

“We don’t have trees in the Rift,” he said and settled his gaze on the window. That much was the truth.

“What’s in the Rift then, if there are no trees?”

“Rocks.”

“Rocks?” she asked, staring at him with one brow raised.

“There’s some sand, too.”

“Rocks and sand. And?”

“And…?” Kalen rested his cast on the table and tapped out a beat on the wooden surface.

“Surely there is more to it than that!”

He let out a low laugh. “Oh, there is. Can you even imagine it? Have you ever stood on the very top of the world while the song of the ancestors whispers through the cliffs? Then there’s the hiss of sand on the stones. It’s never completely silent, even when the winds do still. From the point where the trails begin, it takes two weeks to descend if you’re on a Rift horse; twice as long if you’re on an inferior beast. If you make it at all, that is. Once there, a river carves its way through the Rift, caring not for anything in its path. When the ancients slumber, it’s the color of sapphires. When they rage, it’s the gold of the sun and marked by the white of the clouds.”

Silence answered his words. Kalen’s lips twitched up into a smile. “I’ve been across most of it. From top to bottom, north to south, east to west. I may rule from a study, but my throne is a saddle, my crown is made of dirt, and my court is made of serpents, horses, and men as rough as the land we call home.”

“It sounds like a beautiful place,” his mother said. She hung a pot from the hook above the fire. “Not at all like the rumors.”

“There’s almost always truth in rumors. Just because something is beautiful doesn’t mean it’s safe. Enough of that. Delrose, if you want my cooperation, I want my Guardians. Both of them. Intact, unharmed, and kept where I can see them.”

“I was wondering when you’d start making your demands, and I thought you’d ask for something like that. If that’s what you want, then perhaps an arrangement can be made. If they catch up with us, then they can join us. They found you once, surely they can find you again. If they want to.”

Kalen ground his teeth together and forced a smile. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“All I want is for you to come with me to Elenrune before I take you back to the Rift.”

“I told you I’d consider it, and I will. But, I’ll consider it on my own terms. I’m still not convinced the answers I need are in Elenrune. I’d rather go there after I’ve learned what there is to know. Then I can deal with the problem.”

“And how do you plan to deal with the problem?” his sire asked, his eyes paling to a frosty blue.

Kalen lifted his cast and gestured at his left shoulder. “Life or limb, Lord Delrose? I think the answer is obvious, don’t you?”

Chapter Twelve

A weight settled over Kalen’s stomach and chest, pinning him to the porch bench. Panic choked off his breath. He tensed.

Someone giggled and the weight holding him down squirmed and wiggled. Fighting to keep his breath even and feign sleep, he cracked open an eye and peeked through his lashes.

“Kaaaallleeen,” Welis sang Kalen’s name in his ear and the child’s finger poked his nose.

“It isn’t even dawn yet,” he mumbled. Relief left him limp.

“Why are you sleeping on the porch?”

Kalen lifted his arm and draped his elbow over his eyes. “Who could sleep in there with all of that snoring?”

“Father is quite noisy,” Aden said. “We wanted to ask you some questions.”

“We?”

Welis hopped off of him, and Kalen lurched upright. He rubbed at his eyes with his finger and blinked. The rumble of a snore drowned out the sounds of the night and he glanced toward the door without bothering to mask his disgust.

In the flickering light of a candle, all ten of his siblings stared at him. The darkness hid their expressions. “Very well. I’m up. Let’s talk then. Near the horses?”

One of his sisters thrust his boots at him, but he couldn’t tell which one with the dim illumination. “Thanks.” He shoved his feet into his boots and stuffed the laces inside without trying to tie them.

He followed the group to where the horses slept and leaned against one of the hitches. In the pre-dawn gloom, the animals were all dark colored. He wanted to imagine that one of them was Ferethian, and that he wasn’t alone among strangers.
 

Even if those strangers shared his blood. Some of them, he suspected, wanted to acknowledge him as family. He didn’t dare let them get too close, but at the same time, he couldn’t quite force himself to shove them away, either. “What do you want to know?”

“Are you
really
a king?” Welis asked.

“Yes.”

“With a crown and everything?”

“You know, I never bothered asking if there’s a crown. Who’d want to wear one anyway? I
do
have a sword, though. I normally wear a replica of it. The real one stays in my study more often than not. And no, I don’t have a throne. I don’t want one either.”

“Oooh.” Welis stared at him with wide eyes.

“Are you married?” one of his sisters asked.

“No. We don’t have marriage in the Rift. Closest we have are court-mated pairings, and those are rare. Breton’s sire and dam were court-mated.”

“What does that mean?” she replied.
 

Kalen squinted in the darkness at the girl and struggled to remember her name. When his memory failed him, he covered it with a smile and a shrug. “It means they dedicate themselves to each other. Should their attentions of affections wander, the penalty is death.”

The questions reminded him so much of the past, of when he’d been learning how to survive as the Rift King. He tried not to grin at the Delrose family, but his mouth refused to obey him. How many times before had he answered these same questions with Arik’s youngest children? “Anything else you want to know?”

“Do you have any children?” Aden asked.

Kalen hesitated. How much did they really need to learn about him? The question was innocent enough. He swallowed to sooth his dry throat, and wondered how many of his foals had even noticed he was gone. “I adopted Arik’s, but I have none of my own. My youngest is fourteen. Her name is Ara. She was born seven months after her sire died.”

Kalen’s smile faded. Ara had been the first to call him father. Had any of the others been the first, perhaps he could’ve denied it. Perhaps his desire to cling to the solitude of
Vekakati
would’ve worked. “What of you? Are any of you wed?”

“I am,” Aden said. “As are Bevin and Rorick. Glacia and Aerelle are betrothed.”

“I get married in a year,” Glacia said.

“My turn for a question, then. If so many of you are wed, why aren’t your families here with you? Why is it just you? Would you not have brought your wives? Children?”

“They stayed in Elenrune for the Makings and the festivals. Father said he wanted to have a meeting with the family at the end of the harvest. We were getting ready to head back to the city when…” Aden stared at him and shook his head.

“When the Danarites came,” Kalen supplied. “I will do my best to ensure that this cursed foolishness doesn’t spread that far, but that isn’t something I can promise will succeed. It may be in your better interests to secure your father’s wealth and head to the south or the northeast. If I were the Lord Priests, Elenrune would be the first place I would strike.”

“I feared as much,” Aden replied. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“I’ve no interest in seeing more people die than necessary, and all that war between Kelsh and Danar would bring is bloodshed, and a lot of it.” Kalen draped his arm over the wooden rail and stifled a yawn. “But considered yourselves warned. I’ve spent the past fifteen years trying to prevent this. Unfortunately, reason is something neither side wants to listen to.” Aden opened his mouth to speak, but Kalen interrupted him by clearing his throat. “Don’t argue. Listen. Think. The only threat isn’t war. What do you think will happen to the rest of the Six should Kelsh and Danar join sides? Not even Mithrias could stand up to them for all it boasts the strongest military force.”

“We’d never join sides with them,” Bevin snapped.

“No? Then explain to me why a Knight of Kelsh rode in ambush with a Lord Priest of Danar. Explain to me why a Yadesh will forever carry the scar made by his Rider, err, Knight. Explain to me why that Knight stood and watched over the slaughter of a young Knight, his Yadesh, and his own people. When you have a satisfactory answer to that one, I’ll hear you out. Until then, remember well that you’ve a traitor on your throne. I shouldn’t be the one to cut away the sickness in your land. That should be the responsibility of your Lords, your Ladies, and your Knights. Not mine.”

Kalen shoved off of the post and stalked back toward the cottage, spitting curses and stomping up the stairs. The first boot he kicked off hit the side of the building with a satisfying thud. The second fell short. Neither his dam or sire roused as he stalked into the kitchen.

Footsteps pattered behind him and a hand tugged at his empty left sleeve. He fought against the instinct to strike out. Instead, he let out a long, slow breath and twisted around. Welis stared up at him with wide eyes.

“What can I do?”

Kalen blinked and forced a smile for his youngest brother. “Do what you think needs done.”

“Are you trying to make everyone hate you?” Aden asked from the doorway.

Kalen’s laugh was low and dry. “Most of the world hates me, Aden. You’d be surprised at how many people hate hearing the truth, and hate hearing it spoken directly to their faces. Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”

~~*~~

Kalen scraped his cast against the frame of cottage’s door. White dusted the unpainted wood. A chunk of the plaster fell away to reveal the underlying splint. Biting the inside of his mouth, he glared at his arm and tried to will away the itch. The itch was in the tips of his fingers, the palm of his hand, and it worked its way up his wrist, creeping steadily up to his elbow. To make matters worse, his skin crawled with the need for a bath.

Letting out a wordless growl, he thrust his arm against the frame. Pain raced from fingertips up to his shoulder, but it did little more than distract him. Then the itch returned, stronger than ever. Muttering curses, he shoved away from the door and paced the length of the porch stretching along the front of the cottage. Like the Delrose villas, the cottage was nestled in a clearing deep in the woods. That was the only thing they shared.

Kalen eyed the rough-hewn railing. Instead of slamming his arm down on it like he wanted, he settled with scraping the plaster against its edge again, leaving flecks and streaks of plaster in his wake.