Thirteen years ago, Prince Kian Vienna's family was brutally assassinated. The crown was stolen by a powerful and cruel king from across the sea. Now twenty-one years old, Kian is setting out to take back the kingdom that is rightfully his and to sa...
My stomach turned as Kian told me what had happened. I was disgusted by what I was, a host for murderous demons. Even more, though, I was confused. I was happy that I would never have to call on the magic and the monsters inside of me again. I was glad I had locked them away so deep inside that they wouldn't be free unless I let them. However, I was also devastated that I would never be able to master the magic, that I wasn't the weapon Kian had been looking for.
I punched him in the chest as he told me that he had nearly died trying to save me.
"Ow! What was that for?" He said, rubbing under his collar bone.
"Because you could've been killed, you idiot!" I said, fiercely hugging him. His arms circled my waist, as he held me just as tight. I breathed in his earthy scent, face buried in his shoulder.
"But I wasn't, I trusted you." He mumbled in my ear.
I pulled back, frowning, "I wasn't the one in control, Kian."
"I know. It'll be okay. I promise that no one will ever ask you to do magic again, you'll be safe."
I sighed, looking down at the floor, "I'm sorry. I know you wanted a weapon, and I'm not what you wanted anymore. Turns out I never was."
"Hey," he tilted, my chin up. His brown eyes were alert, but there were bags under them, I wondered if he had slept at all in the last few days, "You may not be the weapon we wanted, but you, the leader, the warrior, the amazing strategist in front of me, are everything we've ever needed. Everything I've ever needed," He said fiercely, daring me to disagree.
Maybe he was right, maybe he wasn't. But I didn't want to think about the war, or magic, or the people waiting for us to lead them. Kian's soft smile told me he felt the same way. I stood up in front of where he sat on the bed, leaning down. My face was inches from his.
'Everything, huh?" I whispered, with a smirk. Kian's pale cheeks flushed pink. I found it amusing that I could fluster him so easily, that the prince who was so composed in front of everyone else turned into an unsure and tentative, young man when he was with those he trusted. He was strong and clever, yes, but he was also innocent and naive in many ways.
He swallowed, finally able to find his words, "Everything and more." He pulled me closer, pooling the fabric of my nightgown in his fingers. I leaned down, letting our lips meet softly. The kiss was slow, unsure. This time we weren't hidden in the snow and moonlight. This time we weren't alone under the stars. This time felt more real. He pulled me to sit on his lap, my fingers running through his hair.
He pulled away, letting his lips barely graze mine as he spoke, eyes still closed, "You are enough, a thousand times enough."
My heart hammered in my chest as I realized that he meant it, truly meant every word. Maybe one day I would believe it as much as he did. I should've thanked him, should've told him that I didn't deserve his touch, didn't deserve anything from him. I was a monster, a host for destruction and pain. I had killed and wounded, and I would do it thousands of times more. That's what war was. I wanted to tell him that the prince never ends up with the warrior, that he was made for healing, and living, and ruling, that I was made for destroying, avenging, and death. But I didn't have the courage to shatter the fragile hope blooming in my chest, that maybe, just maybe he was right. So instead of speaking, I kissed him with all of the pain and passion I had in me, hoping that he could heal me too.
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Two weeks later, after Cayra had officially cleared me from the infirmary, I made my rounds to each training session. Sometimes I gave pointers, sometimes I stayed silent and just observed. It was difficult to imagine these people fighting Drimorians. I couldn't quite picture the battlefield. I tried not to think very hard about the implications of attacking Penrith. Likely, the entire might of the Drimorian army would be upon us in a few months. In all honesty, I was terrified.
"Zora!" Hestia called out to me from the entrance of the makeshift sparring area. I was saddened by the sight of the pack slung over her shoulder. I had come to look at the noble as a younger sibling. Kian had told me that she and Vick were leaving, I just hadn't expected it to be so soon.
"So this is it?" I asked, pulling her in for a hug.
"It is, but do not worry. We will be reunited soon."
I smiled, "Keep Vick alive for me, will you?"
She nodded, smiling softly, "Thank you for everything.''
"Nothing to thank me for, just be careful."
She squeezed my shoulder and turned, joining Vick at the end of the hall.
"She'll be fine, never seen a more resilient girl," Stailon said from behind me, seeming to appear out of nowhere.
"Where'd you come from?"
He shrugged, "Well, thirteen years ago I traveled here from- ow!"
I smiled sweetly, having just punched him in the arm.
He grimaced, "Where'd you learn to hit like that?"
"Where'd you learn to tolerate pain? I wasn't even trying."
"Are you two done arguing?" Tyri asked, walking over from where she had just finished her last session of the day.
"It wasn't an argument, so much as a squabble between friends-ow! Zora, stop punching me!"
I shrugged, "Now I'm done."
Stailon rubbed his shoulder, finally taking a serious tone, "I came to get you both, it's time to start planning the actual attack."
