Page 193 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
The unnatural cold of his skin.
The way his shadow crow had vanished without explanation.
So many small, unsettling details that now fell neatly into place.
Kage turned towards him.
And Bryn saw the truth written plainly in those deep black eyes—the fear there, the quiet tension. Fear of what? Bryn suspected he knew.
Fear of how he would react.
Did Kage think he would recoil from him? Curse him? Pushhim away?
Yes, the revelation stung. It hurt that Kage had not trusted him enough to tell the truth. But…
‘Who is trying to find you?’ Kage asked, turning his attention away from Bryn.
Willow regarded him for so long that Bryn began to wonder whether she would answer at all. At last she sighed softly, as though recalling a memory that had grown heavy with the passing of centuries.
‘A very long time ago, Kage Blackburn,’ she began, ‘A god fell in love with me. Most of you know him as the Sun God. But he was cruel and jealous, for he believed my power rivalled his own. So I ran.’ Her fingers toyed idly with the edge of the bread before her. ‘He believes the child I bore was his,’ she continued, ‘and he has never forgiven me for keeping that child from him.’
‘Was the child his?’ Kage asked.
Willow chuckled quietly. ‘No. But he refuses to believe that. And now… it hardly matters. He will stop at nothing to find me.’ Her smile sharpened slightly. ‘As well as my rather deranged daughter.’
‘So what do we do?’ Kage asked.
‘I would say pray, Kage Blackburn,’ Willow replied as she leaned forward to snatch the butter from the table. ‘But prayer will get us nowhere.’ She began spreading it across her bread with calm deliberation. ‘So I suppose we should prepare for the end.’
Kage rose to his feet.
There was anger in the rigid set of his shoulders, though with Kage Blackburn it was often difficult to tell. He reached across the table and took the butter dish from where it sat, just out of Willow’s reach, dropping it down directly in front of her.
The princess looked up at him, clearly irritated.
Nevertheless, she took her knife and resumed spreading it across her bread.
Kage moved past Bryn as he headed for the door, the tips of two fingers brushing lightly against Bryn’s arm, the smallest signal that he expected him to follow.
The moment the doors to the dining hall closed behind them, Kage spun sharply on his heels to face Bryn. His mouth opened as though he meant to speak, but whatever words had risen there died just as quickly. His jaw tightened instead.
‘So…yer dead?’ Bryn asked, attempting to break the heavy silence.
Kage’s gaze dropped to the floor. For a long while he said nothing. Then, after several quiet moments, he gave a small nod.
Bryn stood there, unsure of what to say. None of the words forming in his mind seemed right. At last he sighed softly.
‘Did it hurt?’
Part of him asked because he needed to know that Kage had not suffered. Another part, one he scarcely dared acknowledge, hoped for reassurance about his own family. If death was gentle, if it came without agony or terror, perhaps the tight fist that had lodged itself inside his chest since the fall of House of Snow might finally loosen its grip.
‘No,’ Kage said quietly. ‘It didn’t hurt.’
Bryn opened his mouth again, ready to tell him that he was sorry. Sorry for what had happened to him. Sorry that Kage had felt compelled to hide something so immense. Sorry that, deep down, Kage had been right all along.
They were doomed.
But the words never came.
