In book four of the Torrent Skies Saga, Kryrial is scouring the lands, tormenting not only the people of his kingdom but those outside of it. His reach is nearly as vast as his ability.
Lodyne continues her insistence that she is the purpose of Kat...
Kryrial paced in the throne room. The castle was emptier, now. He was rebuilding his influence, but he had not gotten over how Katerin had chipped it. He had another speech, soon. Another chance to bring the people back around. They had simply gotten too much lead in their ropes. And he was reeling it in with a slow, calm manor, so as not to spook anyone. He felt as though he had spent too long slumbering. His power over people had been tested, and it was not as strong as necessary. So he paced, thinking. Colin and web were both obediently sitting on the steps to the throne. It was hard to look at them, and all their wasted potential. Hard to think of Kieneltra, and all her power, and how she wasted it on a woman who had not even continued her fight against him. She sat in the dungeons, stubborn as she could be, unwilling to bend even a little from the idiotic ideals Katerin had filled her mind with. She was supposed to be beside him, here, on the throne. She insisted that Katerin would come for her, and Rykir, and that she would be the end of him.
And yet he saw no end coming.
Had Katerin given up? With all the hatred she had for him, last they met, he had a hard time believing she would stay away. Maybe his visit to the manor had shaken her. Maybe she had wizened to his ability. Or, more likely, she was plotting.
Yes. She was plotting. She was too stubborn. So many women were. He let out a snort and paused mid-stride. He could always ensure she would come. Taunting her might throw off her plans. But the question was how to go about it. How to make sure he could still surprise her. Have her guard so tight around her that it would shatter at the moment he chose. She would bring her friends, of course. They clung to her like dirt.
So, he would separate them. Separate her. He smiled to Colin, a plan formulating. The prince stared blankly back. He knew what he would do, and how it would work.
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Graiden was not wearing Sahn-Raidar colors, today. And it was a detail that did not leave his mind. He always had some hint of teal and black around him. It pervaded every hour of his existence. But today, there was something more important. The graveyard was a stark sight in the snow. But Graiden did not need to guess where he was going. His feet took him automatically, to the simple stone obelisk that served as his wife's headstone. She had always insisted on being buried. A funeral pyre was more common, of course. But, she had insisted she wanted to be within the earth when she died, so that she would always be close to her family, wherever their feet took them. He grimaced, wishing she were still here to be beside them in the flesh.
He saw Olivia kneeling before the grave, with her head bowed. She had asked him to come. Out of pure habit, he looked around to ensure no one was watching. He could not help himself. Protecting her was instinct, born of necessity.
She turned to offer him a smile as he approached.
"You made it." She stood, brushing snow from her knees.
"I told you I would," he said, unable to tear his eyes from the grave. Olivia took his hand in her own. It was cold.
Together, they stood in silence, heads bowed in respect of one they loved. Olivia sighed and rubbed her ribs as if they ached. "Do you think she'd be proud of us?"
