Page 216 of Seasons of War
Kira belted an infectious laugh, erupting with joy and defiance and victory. “Holy fucking shit,” she shouted back at the night. “It worked.”
She didn't take her eyes off the PXI, but Zayne stared at her now, more shocked than he'd ever been in his life.
No one stole the Phaedra's PXI. No one touched his tower.
No one defied him for the entire capital to see.
No one except Kira Fucking Stiles.
CHAPTER 50
Zayne
The Capital
Kallum, Ciondo
833 P.C. [Post-Collapse]
Nothing had felt real since Zayne smelled the blood in the air, and he didn't know how it ever would again.
Three days passed in a blur that might have been three weeks for all he knew. Grief distorted time, rendering it meaningless, except as the obstacle separating him from Kira. He last saw her being dragged from the basement, soaked in blood, and received no updates on how she was.
At least she wasn't also suffering through Mom's death.
Father planned to tell the world his mother died from a heart attack, and until then, they told no one about what happened. The Phaedra paraded his victory over the so-called terrorist cell, claiming the Old Ones judged them for hijacking the PXI. The time also distanced Mom from the Followers and let them manufacture medical records.
It was really all for the Phaedra. The death of the High General's wife couldn't overshadow his long-sought-after destruction of the rebels who lived right underhis nose. And the empire didn't care that Adelle Riven died anyway. No one cared about who she was other than a wife and mother.
They didn't understand what the world lost.
Kira couldn't know while the Phaedra forbade it. For now, he lived in a world where Mom tended to her garden at home and nursed her wounded heart. As disturbing as it was to hide her death, telling Kira would feel like discovering Mom's body all over again. Hadn't she suffered enough?
For three days while sorting through pictures of Mom for the funeral, he only thought of returning to Kira. Now that he stood before her door, he didn't know what to do once he saw her. He dragged her around a room full of blood and threw her onto the bodies of innocent people. What if this broke her forever? If she wanted to stab him in the face, he'd give her the knife to do it.
Zayne couldn't look at her after what he'd done. He couldn't leave her alone either. And he had no idea what to do now.
When he opened her door, the stench hit him immediately.
Time whisked him back into the cell in the North where rancid, rotting blood permeated the air and coated the floors and walls. Far worse than the room where the Followers were massacred. Far worse because of the powerful stench of days-old gore.
Kira lay curled on the ground with nothing left in her room, not even a bed. And her body was painted in blood.
Confusion ripped his world in two, convincing him he was actually stuck in the nightmare this time, the kind that felt so real he couldn't wake up. Or that he was trapped with his friends in the north.
The reek of old blood poured out from Kira's prison cell.
No, not her too.
Why didn't the Phaedra kill him along with Kira and Mom? He pretended to make a deal with Zayne only to send him to Kira's corpse.
Numb legs carried him toward her. Terror ripped him from the past and demanded his full attention as he took in her still, bloodied form. If he touched another freezing body…
“Kira?” Another step, and he ran to her side. Clasping her shoulder, he ripped her curled body over to see her face, his hand clutching warmth.
Warmth, not ice.
Alive.
