Demon Retribution (49 page)

After easing Ethan onto a mattress, Rex
joined the dragons to search the palace. Sonya stayed to “guard”
Ethan, while the rest of them followed the young girl, named Sesu.
Kyra was surprised when they came to an elevator—yet another
alteration by the Kayadon.

“I’d feel better taking the stairs,” she
said, not ready to trust Kayadon engineering.

“As would I,” agreed Sebastian.

“Of course. This way,” Sesu said, a bit
confused.

Kyra imagined the girl had taken this
elevator countless times and had no reason to doubt its reliance.
But the Kayadon had clearly been concerned with security and may
have added precautions to deter intruders.

They made their way to a spiral staircase,
wide enough for two to climb side by side. Ginn made no comment as
Cale pulled him along by the vines around his torso.

The palace layout hadn’t been altered too
much. Kyra could have found her way without their young escort.
That is, up until they came to the fifth, upper-most floor. Nothing
looked as she remembered. Some corridors had been blocked, while
new ones had been created. Extra security had been installed by way
of electronic doors at nearly every hall junction. Anya made quick
work of them.

On the way, they encountered another
frightened Faieara. A young boy this time. They calmed him as best
they could, then sent him down to the entrance hall where Fritz was
to take charge of any newcomers.

Finally they found the king’s chamber and
something like dread crept into Kyra’s stomach. What would they
find? A small part of her didn’t want to enter. Didn’t want to see
what had only been alluded to.

Before Anya could disable the lock, the door
opened on its own, revealing a tall male with a slight resemblance
to Ginn. The demons drew their weapons, and the man stepped back,
putting his palms up. His expression said he’d been expecting them.
No doubt a state of the art surveillance system had been among the
many updates.

The man noted Ginn with a fleeting glance.
“My name is Liyel. It is an honor to finally meet you.” He gave an
unpracticed bow before waving them inside. “Your father
awaits.”

“Step back,” Sebastian ordered with
authority.

Cale and Marik made a barrier out of their
bodies, pushing the girls behind them.

In the same instant, Nadua demanded, “You
know who we are?”

As Liyel withdrew into the room, he
answered, “The king confides in me. But I can explain myself later.
The king will not last long now that the healers have fled.”

Kyra pushed past her living shield. Cale
made a noise of protest, but she ignored it. “What do you mean?
Where is he?”

Liyel crossed to a door and pulled it open.
Sebastian kept his blade trained on Liyel as he gestured for Cale
to enter first. He did, disappearing for only a moment. When he
returned, Cale gave a nod. Then he met Kyra’s gaze. She saw her
worst fear reflected back at her.

She rushed into the room with her sisters in
tow. Curtains closed over two tall windows, allowing only thin
shafts of light to bleed in, leaving the room ominously dim. The
light was enough, however, to see a solitary bed fitted with heavy
covers pulled up to the chest of a white-haired man with sunken
cheeks. The man’s tired eyes became glossy upon seeing them and a
smile crinkled his face.

He reached a shaky arm out, beckoning them
closer. Kyra moved to take his hand in hers, shocked by how fragile
it felt, as if a light squeeze would shatter bones under paper-thin
skin. She tried to speak, but her throat had swelled and her lips
curved in an unmanageable frown. Her eyes blurred, and she rushed
to wipe them clear.

“Do not cry,” her father pleaded in a
whispery voice.

Kyra understood that it pained him to speak.
Despite trying to hold them back, tears spilled down her
cheeks.

“You have done so well. I am so proud of you
all,” he continued.

Nadua knelt beside the bed, fighting her own
set of tears. “Father, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away, seeming to
indulge in their presence. “I have been dying for what seems like
forever,” he replied with a raspy chuckle. “I will pass to the
Fields soon.”

“We can find more healers,” Nadua insisted.
“When Ethan wakes he can—”

“I cannot stay, my love.” He gave a bitter
shake of his head. “I’m tired. And what the healers have been
through must never happen again.” He paused as if needing to catch
a breath.

Kyra swallowed hard, needing to catch her
own breath. Desperation coiled inside her, twisting in her stomach.
“Don’t go,” she managed. She could barely see through the salty
rivers, flooding her eyes and drenching her cheeks.

Regret swept over his features then twisted
into a silent apology. “I wish to be with your mother,” he
replied.

Kyra shook her head and more tears to surge.
Her breath waged a violent war on her lungs.

“You’ve been so brave. So strong. You will
lead our people well.” He paused. “I’ve managed to hold on for the
sake of seeing you one last time, so I could tell you how much I
love you…and to beg your forgiveness.”

“What?” Kyra said around a sob.

“If I had seen…I…all of this could have been
prevented—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Don’t you dare
blame yourself.”

“When I imagine how differently your lives
would have been…all our lives…” His voice trailed off as anguish
weaved its way through the creases of his face.

Anya, who had been quietly standing at the
foot of the bed, approached to claim their father’s hand from Kyra.
She knelt and brought his palm to her cheek. “I saw Mother in the
Fields,” she said, trying to keep a steady voice. “She doesn’t
blame you, and neither do we.”

For a moment he didn’t reply, his expression
one of unimaginable sorrow as he stared at his youngest daughter.
Then, with a weak tug, he drew her in to put his arms around her.
Anya leaned down and gingerly placed her chin on his shoulder,
probably—like Kyra—afraid he’d break.

In a barely audible tone, he muttered, “I’m
so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Anya whispered back,
sniffling.

This seemed to placate their father most. He
closed his eyes and exhaled as if he’d been relieved of a terrible
weight.

Kyra noticed the demons, watching from the
door. Ginn and Liyel had been corralled in a corner. All of their
expressions projected empathy, even the latter.

Her father noticed them as well. “Please
come forward.”

The demons moved toward the bed, splitting
their attention between the dying man and the Kayadon.

The king tried to shrug off his abraded,
weary voice, measurably succeeding. “I would like to bestow my
deepest thanks for all you have done for my daughters, and my
people. Know that your people have a home on Evlon from this point
on.”

Sebastian spoke for the group. “Thank you,
Your Majesty. Many will appreciate that.”

Her father’s body sank into the bed, his
breathing harsh. Suddenly his eyes turned vacant as if he’d lost
his sight.

“Father?” Kyra shouted, wanting to beg him
once more not to go, but she knew that would be selfish. More often
than not, Faieara chose the Fields over life, once their beloved
had departed. The fact that her father had delayed the journey was
a testament of his love for his daughters.

He mumbled something then. She only caught a
few words. “Promise to take care of them…keep them safe.”

Marik responded, “We will.”

Kyra knew the moment her father’s body
became nothing more than a shell. Even without the dimming of his
eyes, she knew. She let her tears fall free, let her heart break,
needing the pain to overpower the crippling sorrow. But it wasn’t
enough. The heaviness of her own body became acute, and she
couldn’t muster the strength to rise. Lowering her head, she gave
herself over to sorrow and wept.

“When the heir to the throne returns, the
Kayadon will quake,

and Evlon will shatter.”

Kyra climbed the short distance to the
gilded chair and forced her chin to remain in the air as she sat.
The lovingly tailored skirt of her deep green, long, flowing gown
pooled at her feet. As soon as news had spread about the return of
the heir, couturiers clamored to be the first to dress the queen.
Kyra had been presented with dozens of impressive choices, and
she’d hated to pick just one for her inauguration, but this one
called to her. An intricate weave of small flowers and leaves—kept
alive by way of magic—tangled with a blend of rainbow colored
jewels, creating an S shape down one side of her bodice, across her
torso, and down her hip. The fragrance from the flowers was subtle
yet pleasant. Wearing it made her feel as though she’d been blessed
by the forest itself.

She drew on that and steeled herself as she
said the binding words to honor and protect the land and all its
rightful people. The weight of the crown settled on her head,
placed there by Fritz, one of the few elders left among her
people.

It was strange sitting on her father’s
throne…her throne…so soon after his passing. The kingdom had been
allowed seven days of mourning for their fallen king before she was
to be crowned the new Faieara leader.

Cale sat next to her, adoration and pride in
his eyes as he prepared to repeat her words and take his place as
her beloved King. He fell into the role with the ease in which he
did everything.

The inauguration had been quick, yet every
Faieara in the city had attended. Not all could squeeze into the
throne room, but that wasn’t for a lack of trying. Most remained in
the halls, or just outside the palace, waiting for the king and
queen to be announced. In a ceremonial manner, she and Cale made
their way to a low terrace for the declaration. The crowd had gone
wild with cheers.

Now her subjects celebrated as they never
had before. The streets were alive with merriment, and after a full
three days, the festivities still went strong. Her people had much
to rejoice. A new king and queen, freedom, and a prophecy come
true.

The prophecy was indeed accurate. The
Kayadon did quake. All those who escaped her magic’s judgment had
gone into hiding, outposts just beyond the safety of the Serakians
protective wards, abandoned. Of course, there were more yet to be
found. Of that, Kyra was sure. But stepping past the boundary, even
for the demons, was a risky venture, and ill-advised. Their enemies
would be more desperate than ever.

As for the second half of the prophecy,
Evlon was now split. Most of her people were still scattered in the
many guilds, with no way of informing them of their one safe haven.
Moreover, land had been gifted, as promised, to various mercenaries
who joined the fray for that prize alone. But only after vowing
never to harm or eject any who may already reside on whatever piece
of land they received, Kayadon excluded. Trust in these new—and in
some cases, strange—inhabitants was precarious, but as long as they
upheld the Faieara law, they could do as they pleased, within their
borders.

Above all, any Faieara discovered were to be
protected and delivered to the palace, if possible. As an added
guarantee, rewards for such kindness were promised. The palace
treasury was as full as ever—the Kayadon had horded anything that
could fetch a price.

The process of divvying up land had been
tedious. Giving away bits of her home, just when she’d gotten it
back, weighed on her, but Cale had been by her side the entire
time, helping with negotiations. He was shrewd and unrelenting,
very kingly. She loved him more with each passing second.

He’d held her for two straight nights after
her father had passed and taken on duties that would have been hers
had she the strength to get out of bed. Eventually she had cried
herself out, said goodbye one final time, and prepared to be the
queen her father believed her to be.

As of yet, no demons had shown to claim what
was now their home, but it hadn’t even been two full weeks. Once
word got out, Kyra had no doubt they would arrive in droves.

Ethan’s coma continued to distress everyone,
but it was Sonya who displayed the most worry. Nothing would wake
him, and Kyra had to wonder just how terrible their circle had been
for him. The power had been so great, Kyra still had difficulty
fathoming it. Nadua’s gift had given insight into the past. Anya’s
had made it clear which souls deserved a second chance. But,
primarily, it was Ethan’s magic that was used to heal all within
the circle’s influence. Conversely, Kyra’s had been used to
destroy. She tried not to dwell on that.

The Alliance of the Blood disbanded. Their
previous home was not within the protective wards, and though Kyra
was confident they could have stayed hidden till the end of time,
they chose to take up residence in the city, even helping to
rebuild.