Page 87 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
Bryn leaned in first, brushing his mouth against Kage’s in akiss so gentle it barely dared exist, as though he were waiting to be pushed away. When they parted, they remained close, breathing the same cold air, the tips of Kage’s fingers hovering just above Bryn’s snow-pale skin.
Tell him the truth,a voice whispered inside Kage’s mind.Tell him you are dead.
Kage went still.
Was it wrong not to tell him? Of course it was. The truth changed everything. He was no longer truly alive—only a soul bound by curse, walking among the living by night and the dead by day.
And Bryn Wynter deserved to know.
Kage stepped back, forcing down the great, aching knot lodged in his throat. His black wyverian heart splintered further at the sight of Bryn’s expression crumbling before him. Every instinct screamed for him to reach out, to smooth away that hurt, to take it back into himself.
But he did not.
‘We shouldn’t,’ he whispered, retreating again, until the hut itself refused him any more distance. ‘It is wrong.’
Bryn’s blue eyes flared, widening for a heartbeat before sharpening into something colder, harder. In that instant, Kage realised how his words might land, how easily they could be misunderstood. But surely Bryn knew. Surely he understood that Kage did not mean them. Not two men, not love.
He meant something else entirely.
Bryn straightened, his shoulders squaring as he reached for the fallen furs and wrapped them tightly around himself, armour once more drawn into place. He nodded, sharp and decisive, as if sealing something away.
‘I need to find me brotha Eirwen,’ Bryn said, his voice forged of iron now. ‘And I need to confront Caldwell. I need to draghim off da throne.’
‘Your throne,’ Kage said, his chest tightening painfully at the steel in Bryn’s stare. He had put that there. Even in death, Kage seemed incapable of leaving others unscarred.
‘No.’ Bryn shook his head. ‘I don’t want it. It will go to Eirwen.’
Kage’s expression remained carefully still, but a faint crease appeared between his brows. It was the only sign that Bryn’s words had struck deeper than he cared to admit.
‘But you are the rightful heir.’
Bryn stepped out of the hut, the cold swallowing him instantly. He paused only once, turning back just enough for Kage to catch the curve of his mouth as he let out a hollow chuckle.
‘I am nothing anymore, Kage Blackburn,’ he said. His knuckles blanched white where he clutched another bundle of furs, gripping them as though they were the only thing keeping him upright. ‘Without me family, I am nothing. Without Wren…’ He did not finish. The words fell away, unfinished and unspoken, swallowed by the frost. Bryn turned from him then and walked on, his figure gradually dissolving into the vast white that stretched endlessly ahead.
Kage watched as the wolverian king vanished with quiet ease, as if the snow itself had learnt how to claim its own. It was astonishing how someone could disappear so completely, leaving behind nothing but footprints already filling in.
‘You are not nothing,’ Kage whispered into the falling snow, his voice barely more than breath. ‘You are everything.’
Then he stepped out into the wild, surrendering himself to the cold and the silence, and followed the footsteps in the snow.
Power corrupts.
Even if the intention was good at first, it will never last.
For power has a way of twisting our minds, of forcing us deep into the bowels of darkness.
Tabitha Wysteria
Ash had closed his eyes, as he so often did, and drifted back to a time when the world had felt lighter, almost kind. The memory unfolded with aching clarity. He could see them as they had been, unbroken, untouched by the weight of what was to come. Laughter still lived there.
It was a dinner party, set in the days before Hagan had joined the Red Guard, before duty had claimed him and stolen his hours away. Back then, he had worn court finery and taken his place among the nobles, eating and drinking as though he truly belonged, as though the future had not already begun to sharpen its teeth.
Alina and Adara sat side by side, draped in opulence—extravagant gowns that caught the candlelight and turned it into gold. Their heads were thrown back in shared laughter, careless and bright. Ash could no longer rememberwhat had sparked such joy, only that the warmth at the table had faltered the moment one of the nobles had spoken of witches.
‘Must we always speak of such tedious things?’ Alina had said, rolling her brown eyes, impatience shining across her beautiful face.
‘If they are a threat, then they matter,’ someone had replied, earnest and humourless.
