Chapter 33

222 19 3
                                    

I stumbled as we stepped back to our wagon. Astrid had run outside to retrieve my cloak and Yra's umbrella, shielding us from the sunlight. Starkovian sunlight was something I had forgotten, the brightness of being at such a high altitude indescribable. Thin, wispy clouds darted across the sky and evaporated before they could bring any rain, and my toe caught a root as Klarkloff gazed further into the timberland. This... dark prince, this savior for witches, had made his home in the woods.

Astrid rummaged through the wagon and Klarkloff made horrifying faces at the children, who Urien bombarded with questions. I watched them dodge his interrogation artfully, his eyebrows bunched in frustration. I turned my eyes to the woods, hoping for a little bit of shade, but jumped when Urien touched my arm. "Darius," he said. "These kids need to go home. They're from Nessden. We need to drop them off."

"We need to catch this cult leader before he runs off," I replied. "If we don't go now, we'll be too late."

"I can take them!" Astrid offered, coming out of the wagon with food for the children. The little boy saw a sweet roll and his face turned a shade of green I had not thought possible for Humans. "I can ride the wagon back into Nessden."

Urien nodded in contemplation. "You could, but we may need you. Your healing magick under Ohaldin is much more powerful than mine. Healing isn't... really in my wheelhouse. At the rate at which we've been thrown into the meat grinder, I think—"

"I'll go," Yra offered.

We all turned to look at him, shock on our faces.

"I said I'll go. I'm the best equipped to make the journey, and you all need Astrid. Get what you need from the wagon, and I'll take the kids back with me to somewhere safe. There's an orphanage in Nessden and I can work with them to try and find their parents. Meet up with me there."

"Good plan," Urien affirmed. "We shouldn't lose daylight.

Urien jumped into the back of the wagon, looking for anything he needed, and before Yra could follow him inside, I grabbed him on the elbow. "Yra," I whispered, "may I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure? What is it?" He looked back at me, his large hat shielding his face from the sun.

"Come with me for a moment."

I pulled him away from the wagon and into the tree line, where other ears could not hear us.

"What?" he demanded. "What is it?"

"I wanted to thank you," I said. "You don't have to do this. You hate children."

"They're lost and alone. I can't imagine what they've been through. It's the right thing to do."

"I'm proud of you."

Yra scoffed and waved me off. "Don't, Darius."

"I'm serious. Hey. I'm trying to be sincere, here."

Yra's eyes slid in my direction and a smile curled at the corner of his mouth. "Someone has to be responsible, now that you're effectively no better than a dried-up sponge."

"Ouch."

"In seriousness, be careful," Yra insisted. "I know I've been... difficult, but there's a reason I stayed with you all those years. I loved you, and I still care for you now. If you get yourself killed, I'll dig your body up out of the grave myself and make sure you suffer."

"I'm really sorry, Yra." I let out a long sigh, watching the dust flit through the sunlight that danced through the thick foliage. "When you get to be as old as me, you take people for granted. I assumed that we'd be happy forever, and I treated you like rubbish thinking we'd get over it before long. I've... I've forgotten how to be held accountable for my actions. You don't have to stick around, if you don't want to."

King of DustWhere stories live. Discover now