King of Dust

Chapter 05

I hadn't kissed Yra like that in years. I had forgotten how gentle he was with me. For a moment, in the back of that wagon, I lost myself. He unclasped my cloak, tossing it to the floor to get it out of our way and to return my face to my own likeness, and he kissed the top of my fingers through my glove, gazing at me with his once blue eyes. Now, they glimmered like rubies in the dim light. He pulled the gloves from my hands and tossed them to the floor.

"You need to relax, Darius," he whispered. His hand slipped under the clasps holding my coat closed, and loosened them, sending the coat over my shoulder to reveal my shirt underneath. Yra slipped the coat off my body and onto the floor in a heavy heap. The white shirt underneath was not enough to protect my skin from what chill I could feel. Yra unfastened the final drawstring at my collar and exposed my chest. He cooed, "There's the man I fell in love with."

My hand slipped behind his head, into the mess of curly blond hair that topped it, and I kissed his cheek softly. My lips trailed down his ghost-white jaw and to his neck. He laughed as I kissed there, "There's no more blood to drink there, you dirty old vampire."

He pushed me away from the wall and onto my back, sliding his hips over my own. Within moments, we were passionately tasting the nectar of the other's skin with our lips and tongues, a tangle of some long-forgotten ritual. I don't know how long we were there; time slipped away, and I was reminded of why I had invited him into my castle in the first place. He treated me like I was glass. I had never been touched in that way before, not by anyone. The other women I had invited into my arms before I met Yra all only wanted one thing: vampirism. In the end, it turned out that none of them actually cared for me or my feelings, the trauma and grief I carried. Eternal life was all they wanted.

Not Yra. Yra had come to my palace bored. A rich son of a dignitary, he wanted not to live a life of luxury and predictability but instead to seek adventure. He heard the stories of a terrifying old vampire that lived on the hill in the black castle that topped it, the king of Starkovia, and went to go look. He found me, my troubled past, and my three previous wives. He distracted me for a while and taught me I could love men just as much as women. Together, we locked my wives in the basement (not cool, I know, but they were scary, okay?) and proceeded to rule over Starkovia together. Partners. For once, he didn't want to use me. I gave him eternal life because I had thought we would be together forever.

As Yra placed his ice-cold hand behind my neck I pulled myself from my dream. I remembered that he didn't care for my feelings, either. The trauma I carried was too much for him. He was fine and we were happy when I wasn't hurting or absorbed in long-lost moments. With my forearm I pushed him off me, my face clouded over with sadness.

"What?" he asked, out of breath and eager for more.

"I don't want to."

His face twisted into a scowl, and he curled his arms around himself, leaning into the wall. "I feel like I'm losing you, Darius."

"I don't feel like I can talk to you, Yra."

"And I thought you loved me. I wouldn't have wanted this undead life unless you meant something to me. Clara's gone. She told you to fix up the mess you've made and then move on."

The age-old argument unfolded again. "Yra, I can't have this conversation right now."

"I'm just worried about you, Darius. I've seen how you've been eyeballing Astrid the last couple of weeks. She's not Clara. I don't want you pursuing her because she reminds you of—"

"Oh, so now you're in charge of who I pursue? I'm not married to you, Yra. I'm drawn to Astrid's company because she actually listens to me, unlike—"

The door to the wagon opened and Yra and I whipped our heads to meet Urien's and Astrid's eyes. Astrid awkwardly hid her face behind supplies and Urien's eyebrows bunched under his hood, his scowl apparent behind his mask. "I'm sorry," he stated flatly. "Am I interrupting something?"

I wiped a tear away from my eye and grabbed my cloak off the floor, righting my long coat and buttoning it back up. I pulled my fluffy fur cloak over my shoulders, leaving the enchanted one on the floor. I probably looked like an angry teddy bear, but at least no one would be able to see my embarrassment. "No. Nothing at all."

Yra shot me a look backed with daggers and poison. He placed his wide-brimmed hat back upon his head and covered his face with it, snuggling down into blankets and our bags. Astrid climbed into the wagon with her supplies and set them into a corner. Urien returned to his driver's seat and he shouted through the front window of the wagon, "I've decided to look into that house. Astrid's given me some interesting information and I want to make sure that we're not leaving something dangerous be. It's not far, so prepare yourself for potential conflict."

The horses started forward, the wagon lurched, and Astrid braced herself on the ribbing of the wagon. After Urien reached a steady pace, she sat down next to me. My chest felt like I had shoved a stake through it. Yra was so – so infuriating. I had lived much longer than he, four hundred and fifty some odd years more, and endured countless horrors. He, on the other hand, was the privileged son of a nobleman from Nessden, the only son. He had everything given to him on a silver spoon, could pursue any lover he wished, chase any dream without money being an issue.

But, you may be asking, Darius, aren't you a king? I was a king. My family fought tooth and nail to settle in Starkovia, slaughtering our enemies in our path and claiming what was ours after years of abuse and neglect. We built our wealth slowly, and we were expected to die in battle for our crest. Yra hadn't ever even been to war. Not to mention, that I hadn't gotten over Clara. Clara left a bitter taste in my mouth more sour than spoiled wine. How could Yra possibly understand?

Astrid gently put her hand on my leg, and I jerked back to reality. My eyes flicked to her face, her eyes a puddle of concern, and I couldn't help but feel my tense muscles soften a little. "Darius," she asked, "are you okay?"

I sighed and grabbed her book off the floor to prevent it from getting stepped on. I brushed dirt from the cover and handed it to her, a solemn smile on my face. "Not hardly, but I'm here, the wagon is rolling, and I have a job to do."

"I know Urien is a stickler and doesn't seem to like me being around you much," she whispered, "but if you ever need to talk about anything, you're welcome to pop into the wagon before bedtime."

"Are you sure you want to do that, lamb?" Yra snapped, raising the brim of his hat to reveal his garnet eyes. "Darius is nothing but misery and rot. You want nothing to do with him."

Astrid paused for a moment and looked between the two of us. I could see her thinking, calculating her next words. "Before my father left when I was small, he grew a vegetable garden. After he left, the garden grew over with weeds and thorns. My mother told me it wasn't worth the time or the effort to clear out the rubbish."

Astrid turned her eyes to me and smiled. "But, sometimes, cutting away the rot to reveal a fresh bed of soil beneath it is one of the greatest rewards life can give us."

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