The Blood King - Chapter Nineteen (Patreon)

Nymira

I’ve never felt so anxious in my life as I stand near Cassian’s tent, waiting for the healer to leave. I didn’t mean to hurt him. It just happened, the same way it did in the square and in the river when I was fighting for my life. But now, I have made a grave mistake and injured their king.

I look away from the entrance to his tent to his camp. The men have settled in nicely. Some sit outside of their tents, conversing quietly around their fires, while others have gathered in a separate area to gamble. They are all at ease having me in their camp, not seeing me as a threat. And luckily, Cassian didn’t tell them what happened by the river.

The sound of his tent opening pulls my attention away from the men, and I look just in time to see Krea exiting, her eyes narrowed in distrust as she watches me.

“You are lucky you are so weak. You could have seriously injured him,” she says, watching me.

“I…” I trail off.

She scoffs, tilting her head towards the entrance.

“He will see you now,” she says.

I look away from her to the shadows that dance around inside his tent, my stomach twisting in fear. But I can’t just run away. I am at his mercy, in the center of his camp. Any one of these men could easily track me down, that is, if Cassian didn’t get to me first.

I swallow, clasping my hands in front of me, and Krea’s eyes follow the motion. She laughs to herself, shaking her head before moving away from Cassian’s tent, just as I step inside. His tent is warm, and the closer I get, the more I realize it is from his body heat. He’s seated on a bench, with only a pair of pants, as he studies his hand. I note that he has more markings covering his chest, and his abdomen, disappearing into his pants. A painful looking red mark stretches from his palm to his forearm, and he holds it high for me to see.

As I come to stand in front of him, he finally looks away from the wound, his eyes falling to me with hidden emotion.

“I didn’t mean to,” I say softly. I don’t care that my voice reflects my fear. I want him to know that it was an accident. I never would have attacked him on purpose.

He scoffs, lowering his hand to rest on his thigh as he continues to watch me.

“Do you think you’d still be alive if I didn’t know that?” he asks.

I pull in a sharp breath at his revelation as he stands.

“You clearly expel your magic when you feel threatened—or scared. Either way, it is my job to make sure what happened by the river doesn’t happen to my men,” he says in irritation.

“Is it permanent?” I ask, gesturing to his arm.

He eyes me in distrust, thinking about his response.

“No. It should heal in a few days. Had you been a matured Ikniri, you would have taken my arm with you,” he says.

My eyes widen at the possibility. Cassian looks so powerful, I can’t imagine having the strength to match his—to hurt him in that way.

Cassian notices my expression, chuckling.

“Of course, if you were a matured Ikniri, my guard wouldn’t have been down, and you would have lost your head before you could conjure that attack,” he says. He’s ensuring that I know I cannot beat him. But all he does is let me know that his guard is down when he is around me. He truly doesn’t see me as a threat.

His eyes shift from my face to my arm, studying the markings. No more have appeared since what happened by the river. I slowly pull my arm behind me, meeting his gaze.

“Well, I am sorry. It was an accident. You just startled me,” I say. “I…can’t seem to control myself around you. My body reacts on its own.”

He doesn’t respond. He studies me, intensely. Then, he slowly places one foot in front of the other, closing the space between us. I clench my arms behind my back, looking into his eyes as he stands over me, his deep crimson gaze boring into mine.

He then smiles, and I gasp at being able to see the dimple on his cheek this close.

“Hm. At least your instincts aren’t failing you… Or maybe they are,” he says.

I am relieved when he steps out of my space, and I watch him move to a chest sitting on the floor of his tent.

“How did you let those men capture you and kill someone so close to you if you can at least do the damage you’ve done in the past few days by being startled?” he asks. I sense the taunting in his tone, but answer nonetheless, my body trembling from the memory of Peyra’s life being taken.

“I’ve never had control over my power. Everything that’s happened recently is new. Even these markings. They only showed up a few days before I…messed up,” I say, looking at my arms. In comparison to Cassian’s markings, I am as bare as a human.

I hear the lock sound as Cassian opens the chest, speaking.

“Messed up?” he asks.

When I look up from my arm, he is watching me with a curious expression. And for the first time, there is no mocking in his voice, and no anger. He almost looks…

I look away, my heart beating frantically.

“Yes,” I say, hoping he’ll take the hint that I don’t want to talk about it.

“It would do you good not to keep things from me, Nymira. I am what stands between you and extinction,” he says nonchalantly, standing.

I can’t believe how cordial he is being after what happened earlier. I half-expected him to tie me to a post and beat me into submission. But he seems to understand me and my actions more than I do.

“I…heard a mother and her son fall into the river rush. I acted impulsively and tried to save them. I not only exposed myself, but I also almost died in the process. That realization was enough for my power to freeze the river. And the woman…she turned me in to the men who brought me to you,” I say, finally looking at Cassian.

He doesn’t respond immediately. He once again studies me, as if trying to figure me out. Then, he laughs, shaking his head.

“You are truly naive,” he says, moving to the spot of the tent I entered. He uses his arm to pull back the fabric, revealing the rest of his camp as his dark eyes study me.

“Ulric will take you to your tent,” he says.

I pull in a deep breath, walking to the edge of the tent. I pause when I’m right under Cassian’s arm, looking into his eyes. My body’s reaction is the same, but in the short time I’ve spent speaking with him, I've gotten used to it.

“Helping people isn’t naive,” I say.

He makes a face, leaning in much closer than I thought he would, his face inches from mine. I can feel the heat his body radiates as he angles his head, looking me in the eyes.

“That isn’t what I was talking about.”

Silence settles between us as we glare at one another, and I am grateful when I hear Ulric’s footsteps.

“Goodnight, Your Majesty,” I say, pulling in a trembling breath as I move away from his suffocating space. And as much as I want to, I don’t look back.

“Is Caius nearby?” I ask, giving Ulric my full attention as I try to calm myself. Now that I am outside, I realize just how warm Cassian’s tent was. The air is much cooler, and the feel of the wind caressing my skin is comforting.

“You can ask the king in the morning,” Ulric says.

He’s a stickler for his king’s commands. I cross my arms over my chest in irritation but don’t respond as I let him lead me to the place I will be staying for the next few days.

I watch the Ikniri carefully as she leaves.

Her naivety is pathetic. She relays information about herself to me without even thinking of the consequences. In this conversation, she has not only told me how long she’s been exhibiting this but also how powerful she is. Her body is trying to awaken itself, but with no training and no understanding, she is a waste to her kind. A child receives more than two markings once they understand how to even access their power.

She doesn’t understand the situation she is in, mistaking my decision not to kill her for some kind of mercy. She is foolish. Especially risking her life, and the life of the woman she claimed to care so deeply for, to save humans. Hearing her tell that story, that after decades of her hiding successfully from the world, she threw it all away for humans, made me want to burn down a village just to show her how insignificant their lives are.

She is nothing like an Ancient should be, let alone an Ikniri.

And even still, as I watch her walk away, I feel a small piece of pity. Her white hair falls down her back even though she has it in a braided ponytail. And though she looks strange without markings, it has become a way for me to tolerate her. I find myself becoming more and more fond of the sight of her as the days pass. I much prefer her in the gowns that hug her lean figure than the clothing she borrowed from my men her first few weeks here. 

I frown, moving away from the edge of the tent at the direction of my thoughts, and the direction of the blood flow between my legs. Ikniri have no place in this world. That has and always will be the rule of this war. And when she is no longer useful to me, she will join her people in that promise.