of Sword and Flame

Chapter 7: Marigolds

 "Alright, I have to ask," Ren said, reaching up to tighten his loose, half-done bun. Umber curls danced through the crisp morning air as the sunrise kissed his soft features. He turned to Kyra, who looked less than enthused at the idea of him having a question for her. "Has King Malum ever sent his shapeshifter to Azura?"

"No."

The answer was swift and unwavering, and for a moment, Ren was startled at how willing she was to reply. She stared straight ahead, down the winding dirt road that bled into a leafy forest up ahead. The wind lifted her hair gently, and Ren caught sight of her furrowed, blackened brows. Her lips pursed as if in preparation for him to keep talking.

It had been a few hours since they'd risen at the tip of dawn, bags packed and feet stretched to fit the rocky ground. It was a silent walk, so quiet the distant chirp of birds or the hum of wagon wheels sounded like an echo in a cavern.

"Why?" Ren asked, and Kyra could hear the distrust in his words. She knew how foolish it seemed not to send the perfect spy to infiltrate their enemy.

"Perhaps he knew Jin—"

"Jin?"

"That's their name."

"Oh."

Kyra scoffed. "Yes, yes, it's positively outrageous, I know, that we all have names other than Gravedigger and Reaper."

"I guess I never thought of that," Ren said, his words turning into a revelation.

"Perhaps Malum knew Jin wouldn't return," Kyra stated, ignoring his revelation for her own sanity.

"You mean like how you didn't?"

Kyra's eyes narrowed. She knew where this was going; she could practically read his mind as he spoke again.

"If your loyalty toward Malum is anything like what your loyalty toward King Aptos will be, I sincerely hope you fix it."

"Loyalty?" Kyra asked as her foot kicked a large rock in her way. The trees were closer now, looking over them in calm, gentle sways like chlorophyll-filled dancers with chains tied to their ankles: graceful yet burdened. "Do you really think I'm loyal to Malum?"

Ren turned to look at her again, and this time, she was meeting his gaze. A cold look lingered in her stormy eyes, the very same she always had when she looked at him. He knew that stare well, that familiar disgust.

"For his right-hand woman, you don't seem very upset at being on our side. Then again, you only did it to escape death."

A different look seeped from Kyra's features, her brows rising like leaves swept up by the wind. Something nearly impossible, something—no, that was simply foolish to think of. The Phoenix couldn't look disappointed, not like that. Ren blinked, and her head was turned back to the road, waterfalls of tar-like hair concealing her expression.

"Doctor Manuahi," she said, sounding reserved and withdrawn, as if she had just accepted a disappointing truth, "you truly know nothing. Nothing at all."

Ren was startled, and his heart leaped like a child caught in a lie. What was it about that tone that made him think, if only for a moment, that he had done something wrong? He reassured himself of who it was that had said those words and that he was, in fact, talking to a cold-blooded killer. The guilt in his gut drained like sand in an hourglass.

The rest of the walk through the forest was quiet as a corpse. The skeletons of trees seemed to squeeze closer toward the center path, and soon, Ren was hacking away at the thick sea of overhanging branches, feeling like a needle in a haystack. If Kyra was grateful for his labor, she didn't voice it and instead ducked under the branches he didn't get to.