The Blood King - Chapter Twenty-Eight (Patreon)

Nymira

Night has fallen over the fortress, and I have yet to see Caius or Cassian again. I am glad for it, as my mind has decided to wander all over the place since awakening. I can’t get that dream out of my mind. It felt so real. The flames, the screams, even the chill in the air from my surroundings. All of it felt…like I lived it.

No matter how hard I try, however, I cannot remember any of it. What I think of now only exists in my mind because of that dream. So it can’t be real, can it? Could it just be my body’s way of coping with the crippling force of a Dragonborn’s attack?

I shudder, squeezing my hand to my chest as I recall the feel of those flames over me. Peyra only spoke about the Dragonborn negatively. She often spoke of their temperament—their rage. She blamed that on being the cause of the war. They were desperate to spread their misery unto others. And because my people stood directly in the way, they took the brunt of that rage—the Blood King’s rage.

I can’t believe that up until a month ago, it was a story I could roll my eyes at. I always thought the many legends that swirled through humanity’s tongues were much too outlandish to believe. Now that I have witnessed the full force of it up close, not only of Silas’s attack, but Cassian’s counterattack, I can’t help but wonder what parts of the legends are true, especially when it comes to my people.

“Seeing you is a reminder of what was lost.”

My people are the ones who are lost. My people are the ones who no longer exist. And yet, Caius speaks as if my people’s role in the war warrants the hatred I have received—as if they were the ones who caused it. Everyone knows it was the Blood King, who is a Dragonborn. Even the humans of the kingdom Cassian inhabited feared him so much that they dragged me to his doorstep in hopes of having their lives spared.

How could the ones who caused all of this claim to be victims?

I’m pulled from my thoughts when I hear the faint pattern of footsteps up the hall. My senses are dulled, and my body is weak from the heat of the room, but I ignore it as my panic sets in. Caius said Silas was banned from being near me, but Silas should have known, since I was traveling with Cassian, not to attack. I doubt he would start listening to him now.

I scramble out of bed, but my legs are too weak to hold me up.

“Agh!” I cry out as I crash to the ground, and simultaneously, the footsteps speed up. My heart thunders wildly against my chest as my instincts kick in and I hold my hand out in front of me, calling on my power. But no more than a small shard appears on the edge of my palm just as the door opens.

Cassian appears in the doorway. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to see him as he looks to the bed. He immediately notices I am not in the bed, his gaze finding me on the other side of the room. His panic dissipates almost instantly, replaced with what I would assume is frustration as he approaches, his brow furrowed.

“What are you doing on the floor?” he asks, kneeling directly in front of me.

He’s so broad that he covers the rest of the room from my line of vision, forcing me to only focus on him. The pants he wears are low on his hips, and he isn’t wearing a shirt, only a dark robe that opens up to reveal each of the emblems that cover his chest all the way down to the sharp V that disappears into his pants, but not before the trail of dark hair that leads…

I look up at his face, my eyes wider than I care to admit.

“I…I thought you were…” I trail off, looking away, and silence settles between us. Cassian’s arms are underneath me as he lifts me from the ground as if I weigh nothing, carrying me back to the bed.

“Silas forgot his manners. And until he can remember them, he won’t be seeing you,” Cassian says.

I can barely focus on what he says, though, as his naked chest rests against my body. The warmth that usually bothers me feels…strange. It travels from the place our skin meets, settling in my stomach until I am squirming in his arms. I am relieved when he finally drops me in the bed, but my relief is short-lived as he sits on the edge, reaching for my face.

I flinch away, and I know that he sees it. But he doesn’t react. His fingers brush against my forehead, and he remains in contact with my skin as he gently brushes his knuckles against my cheek.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of his knuckles against my cheek. His skin is the same temperature as the room, if not hotter. But it doesn’t feel terrible against mine. The area he touches tingles with warmth, slowly traveling to join the twist in my stomach.

“It’s hot,” I murmur.

I hear his chuckle, and I open my eyes hoping to catch a glimpse of his dimple. I see it briefly as his smile dies down, and I find myself studying his features. His hair is free from its ponytail, some of it falling in his face, while the rest is over his shoulder. It makes him look less harsh, but still intimidating. The strange feeling in my stomach shifts, twisting even tighter as it travels lower, settling as a small ache between my legs.

Cassian pulls his hand from my cheek as he looks at me.

“Better for us that you don’t freeze us all from having a bad dream,” he says, pulling me from my oggling. His words are a splash of water as I am reminded of the nightmare I had while unconscious.

Cassian mistakes my shift in mood as a result of his words. “I only meant, the heat is temporary,” he says.

I shake my head, looking at my hands.

“Why would you bring me here, Cassian? If I am such a danger to everyone, and everyone hates what I am?” I ask.

“Silas made a mistake. It won’t happen again. You don’t need to fear him,” he says.

“And you?” I ask.

Silence drifts between us, and I finally find the courage to look at him. His dark eyes are focused, giving nothing away. But as if sensing my unease, he sighs, angling his head to better look up at me.

“Have I given you reason to fear me?” he asks.

Now I laugh. “You mean, besides your rule?” I ask, referring to him not allowing me to see him for the first week in the castle.

He doesn’t respond. He quietly shifts back on the bed, losing himself in his own thoughts.

“Am I a painful reminder to you?” I ask.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“When you look at me, do I remind you of what was lost?” I ask.

His expression darkens, and he suddenly is more stoic than I’ve ever seen him. As if he is trying to control himself.

“Why are you saying this?” he asks. I shiver from his tone, looking away.

“Caius said that for some, I am a reminder. But you don’t seem as bothered as Silas was,” I say.

Cassian’s expression shifts. And I once again can’t read him. He pulls in a deep breath, looking towards the window for a moment before looking back to me.

“Can you stand?”

We are surrounded by death.

I had already picked up on that as we left the Thrae territory, entering this one. But as my strength returns, and the moon shines brightly overhead, I can see our surroundings clearly. The fortress is surrounded by mountains, except on the North side. It opens up, allowing the river that surrounds it to fall into the empty pit of darkness below. Even with my heightened senses, I cannot see beneath the shadows. But I can hear the waterfall flowing for miles down.

The trees are void of life. They have been singed or splintered into decay that covers the ground. Even the larger trees have been burned so that they can no longer bear leaves. Cassian steps up next to me, just as the wind picks up. It feels nice, cooling against my skin. It’s a much better change from the heat of my room. But being surrounded by this is…depressing. It is obvious a battle occurred here. A battle that must have taken the strength of a Dragonborn army

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask, looking at Cassian.

He remains focused on the distance as he speaks.

“Do you sense it? The death in the air?” he asks.

I slowly nod, looking back to the scorched land.

“There are reminders of the war everywhere. It lingers, like a wound,” he says, looking at me. But I keep my gaze focused on our surroundings. I’ve never seen the result of the war. I spent my entire life inside the forest, hiding far away from it. But if this is just a glimpse, I can’t imagine what it was like being a part of it.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I say.

Cassian steps closer to me, the heat from his skin intoxicating. I don’t dislike it. It feels like him. Warm…strong…protective. I think of each moment during this trip he has stepped in to protect me, whether it be against a confused Thrae or one of his own. He hasn’t hesitated in that role. I slowly look away from the devastating scenery, my breath hitching as I meet his gaze.

His eyes glow from within, the crimson reminding me of the flames in the hearth. They aren’t dangerous; they exist to create warmth and give life.

“Does the thought of you being a painful reminder to me bother you?” he asks, his voice low.

He’s so close to me. If I stood on the tips of my toes, I could press my lips against his. I slowly take a step back, turning away from him as I realize the direction of my thoughts. I hear his soft laugh followed by him leaning against the stone banister.

“To be honest, I had the same reaction as Silas when one of my men came running to tell me about the Ikniri that was brought to my door. I'm sure any Dragonborn would,” he says.

I tense when I feel his hand under mine. He gently pulls it towards him, twisting it slightly so that my markings are visible, and I feel myself growing warm with embarrassment from the small markings compared to his.

“Then I saw you standing there. Bloody, without a marking in sight, sobbing at the feet of humans who you couldn't even protect yourself against. You reminded me of someone close to me. Someone I hadn’t thought of in a long time,” he says.

My eyes widen, and I look at him, but his eyes are focused on my arm, tracing the markings. His eyes are soft, almost sad as he studies my skin.

“Who?” I whisper.

My question seems to bring Cassian back to the present. He releases a soft breath, looking away as his gaze hardens. His grip tightens on my arm briefly before he releases me, stepping back.

“Someone who was lost to the war,” he says, looking back over the banister.

"The point is, there are reminders everywhere. It is up to us how we react to them when we see them," he says. It is clear that whoever he lost in this war was someone very special to him. I see the pain in his eyes as he thinks of them in this moment.

I’m moving before I can stop myself, gently placing my hand against his back.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Cassian’s skin heats up, and he scoffs, lowering his head. But he says nothing back. So, I remove my touch, looking back over the banister with him. To me, this is a result of the war. But to Cassian, it is also a painful memory of what he has been through.

“When you fought in the war...did you encounter my people?” I ask.

“…Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate. He just answers. It’s chilling that I stand next to the Dragonborn who has had a hand in killing my people. Who my people have probably killed of his kind.

I can’t help but wonder if my brother ever encountered Cassian during this war. But that is something I will never be able to ask about. I must always keep it a secret. For all Cassian knows, I am an Ikniri raised by a human who pitied me. He can never know my brother left me with the intention of returning for me someday.

I place my hands against the banister as I try to find the courage to ask Cassian something deeper. Something that may shatter how I see him. But I promised myself that I would learn more about my culture and my people. And Cassian is the only one who will give me those answers.

“So you…served the Blood King? And he is real?” I ask. Each time I've mentioned him, no one has pushed back on his existence, meaning there is some truth to the stories that linger.

Cassian laughs. “Of course.”

“Do you serve him now?” I ask.

Cassian is quiet for a moment.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “And what do you know of the Blood King? You had nothing to do with the war. Why are you fixated on him?” Cassian asks.

“It was said that his bloodlust for my kind was never sated during the war. And Peyra thought he had returned…It just feels like you’re all I have now. You’re the only connection I have to my people and my culture,” I say, looking at him.

“I guess I just don’t see why you would go against him to spare me. Especially when you know I have been outlawed from this world. You said so yourself,” I say.

Cassian is watching me intensely as I finish. He then stands, no longer leaning against the banister to his full intimidating height. He steps closer to me, the air warming with his mood as he stands so close that I have to crane my neck to look into his eyes.

“I think I’ve already answered that for you,” he says.

His eyes shift over my face, taking in my features before he finally steps away from me, turning his back to me as he makes his way back inside the fortress.