Kyrian in the Dark

NOTE: This interlude takes place in the apartment while the party is waiting for nightfall, before their raid on the government building.

Kyrian sat in the dark, back to the wall. Hiding here did not bring the peace he sought; instead, he found himself drowning in his thoughts.

He was vaguely aware of someone on the other side of the door, shadows cutting across the plane of light. Who was it? Too heavy for La’ss’a, too light to be anyone else—unless…

The door opened, and Kyrian’s briefly uplifted spirits sank again when Jacynth’s face emerged from the light. She blinked at him. “Have you seen Odran?” she asked, as if she routinely found people hiding in closets.

He shook his head and waited for her to shut the door—but she didn’t. After an awkward silence, Jacynth asked, “What’s troubling you?”

Kyrian made a big show of ignoring her. “You’ll feel better,” she went on, “if you tell me.”

As Jacynth turned to leave, he said, “Why would you care?”

“Because I don’t want you getting anyone killed tonight,” she said without looking back.

“Fair enough.” Kyrian started to get up, but Jacynth walked into the closet and shut the door behind her, slumping to join him on the floor. There was barely enough room for the two of them, even with their legs folded; at least their low-light vision enabled them to see each other.

She watched him for a moment before Kyrian said, calmly, “I missed my home and my mother, when we left the Valley. But having my sister around helped me to control it. Then, when we split up, I started missing my home, and my mother, and Olena. But Ligeia…” His voice wavered. “She took my mind off of all that. Now I miss everything, and there’s nothing to help me forget about it.”

“Ligeia meant that much to you,” Jacynth said, more statement than question.

Kyrian nodded. “She still does. I can’t explain, but when she talks to me… I don’t know, it’s like flying with my feet on the ground.”

“You may have noticed,” Jacynth said dryly, “that she talks to all men like that.”

“I have,” he said, a little offended. “But it doesn’t matter. I only know how it makes me feel. Gods, I wish I’d found out what happened to her! That bastard Hali! He has to know something he wasn’t telling me…”

Jacynth shifted her weight around, and a note of exasperation crept into her voice. “Kyrian, you’re still very young…”

"I know,” he said, glumly. He started to speak again, but Jacynth was already continuing.

“People are going to come and go in your life.”

“Then why should I care about any of them, if I’m just going to lose them?”

“Because it’s who you are. I hate to think of what this world will do to an innocent fellow like you, but believe me, trying to be something you’re not is a thousand times worse. Odran would tell you the same thing, and I know you trust him.”

Kyrian looked away. “The others could have helped me look for her.”

“Maybe they trusted you to find her,” she said with as much tact as she could muster.

“Well, they shouldn’t have. I didn’t have any luck with her or the Thayvians.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Or maybe they just don’t care about what matters to me. Gods help me if I go missing! I’m not even sure what I’m doing here—”

“Stop that,” she snapped. “There’s a lot more at stake here than you and your pretend girlfriend.” Jacynth’s frosty gaze made Kyrian’s retort stick in his throat. She continued, “Listen to me! Just listen. You’re not giving up. You don’t get a choice in the matter. If you give up, then Sulveig wins. It’s that simple. And you’re psionic—he’s sure to try and recruit you.”

“I’d never—”

“Shut up; right now you’re listening. You know he’ll destroy anything he can’t control. You don’t have any choice but to fight him. There’s a saying, Kyrian: you can fight without ever winning, but never win without a fight. If you’re afraid to try—to give it your all—then you’ll never succeed. Do you want to be a failure for the rest of your life?”

When she didn’t hear his mumbled reply, Jacynth nudged his shin with the toe of her boot, and he said “No.”

“Would you want Olena to see you moping in here?”

“No.”

“If Ligeia is dead, do you want her death to be for nothing?”

“No!”

“Then get a hold of yourself. We’re walking headfirst into danger tonight. Sythillis is sure to be in the government building, and gods know what he’s got guarding him. We need to know we can count on you.”

Kyrian closed his eyes. “All right,” he said quietly. “I’m all right.”

“Good.” Satisfied, Jacynth reached up to open the door and tumbled into the bedroom so she could stand.

“Do you think Ligeia’s dead?” Kyrian asked.

“I don’t know what to think,” she said, stretching her limbs. “But you’re not helping anyone in this closet.”

“I suppose not. Thank you, Jacynth.”

“Sure,” she said curtly, and sauntered into the main room, where she found Odran.

“Everything all right?” Odran asked her.

“Maybe. Your half-fey’s such a bloody child.”

Odran nodded. “What do you expect? His Valley is the most idyllic place I’ve ever seen. I never would have left if I hadn’t been called home.”

“Why are you defending him? You’re not his father, no matter how you feel about it.”

Odran shook his head. “I’m not defending Kyrian. I just want you to understand—”

“The only thing I need to understand is that he’s a liability.”

“I know,” said Odran, catching Jacynth by surprise. “Are you so surprised to find me in agreement? I hate to say it, but Kyrian needs to grow up, and quickly.”

“Do you think he will?”

Odran looked over Jacynth’s shoulder and saw Kyrian step into the room. “I hope so,” he said quietly, absently returning the half-fey’s wave, “for all our sakes.”