Broken But Unburnt

Chapter 42 - Kazimir

Chapter 42: Kazimir

Palace of the Nebula Throne: Kingdom of Idoria

Bijan had surrendered.

He had claimed that it was for the good of his people, that if he surrendered his men would too and they could avoid any more bloodshed this day. Kazimir didn't care for his reasons, his explanations, the way he used his words to spin a tale that made him a hero rather than the loser that he was. It didn't matter. They knew, though no one was saying it aloud, that Bijan had surrendered to save himself. There was nothing more to it than that. He had heard the whispers of the king, his father, slain by his own right hand man. He had seen his sister fall to her death from the parapets of his own kingdom, watched her splatter against the ground right in front of his entire battalion. He wouldn't be so foolish as to challenge the Chaos again.

And Kazimir had more important things on his mind.

At present, he was bent over the former king's map table, a long wooden table with a top carved into the geographic shape of their continent, topography and labels included. He was staring at the central kingdom, beyond the sand dunes in that lush forested land they had traveled through. Delos.

She was there. The girl who haunted his waking hours as well as his dreams. The girl who had siphoned his power from him and left him feeling weaker than anything ever had before. He still felt that weakness, in phantoms and whispers when he slept, in the twitches of his fingers when he was awake. It had never left him entirely, that feeling. In his most sleep deprived state, he had even wondered if it was a curse, some trick of charlatans to scare him off and linger after all this time. But he knew it wasn't. Because he felt it still and that feeling was nothing if not wholly, unavoidably real.

"Kazimir," someone was saying, interrupting his thoughts.

"What?" he snapped, looking up to find Zahra watching him. He grit his teeth in annoyance. It was hard enough to string together a coherent thought without her constant interruptions.

Zahra raised a brow, hands on her hips, and pursed her lips.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," she barked back. "When was the last time you got any sleep?"

"When did Jyn return from Karil?" he asked back.

Zahra balked, eyes widening at the realization of what he was suggesting. Kazimir had lost track of the days. Sunlight blurring into night and the darkness fading away at the day. It came and went, hours passed, the sun and moon exchanged their places on the horizon, and still, he remained awake, alert. He flexed his magic, reaching out with everything he had, searching for her, for whatever darkness she had unfurled within him. He had raided the palace's libraries, looking for any mention of ancient curses, hexes or wards that could repel magic, could shrink it within a prominent practitioner like himself. He found nothing.

"Three days ago," she replied, her lips set in a grim line. "You haven't slept in three days?"

"I haven't slept in five. The casualties were–"

"They knew they would lose. You told them as much. They chose to risk the attack anyway. And it worked. The royal family got out of Toura safely."

"And how many of them died to save a foreign house?" Kazimir asked, gripping the edges of the table so hard that his knuckles turned white.

He hadn't wanted to sacrifice any of his people, any of the Allegiant, whether here in Idoria or elsewhere. But this group that operated out of the Rising Star, they had believed in the cause, dedicated themselves to it, and wanted to help. He doubted even he could have convinced them otherwise. That was a problem. Rebellious spirits aided in revolution. They were imperative to the sort of change he was hoping to make in this country, in the whole world. But the more success they saw, the more favorably their little rebellions ended, the less control he would have over them, the more likely they were to slip their leash and drag his name through whatever conflict they sought out for themselves along the way.

"Jyn says the royal family is housed within the royal guests' quarters now," Zahra responded, ignoring his question and continuing with her announcements. "They have been situated quite comfortably, afforded every luxury. Though I've had to console many a maiden who chanced upon the prince at the wrong time."

Zahra's tone was sharp, furious. Kazimir just clenched his jaw and did not answer. There would be time to deal with a whoremongering prince later. It was the least of his concerns and one which, Kazimir thought, irritated, his lieutenants should be able to face themselves.

"The princess is demanding to see Bijan again," Zahra added.

Kazimir refrained from rolling his eyes but only barely.

"Young love," he spat. "A luxury to have the time."

"You find the time," Zahra replied, bristling at Kazimir's tone, "even when you don't have it."

He looked up from his table and met her gaze. She recoiled a bit at the sight of him. No doubt it was the dark bags beneath his eyes that had scared her so. Or maybe she could see the darkness in him, even now, that rot spreading throughout his body, pinning down his magic, keeping it subdued. Even so, he had admitted to five days without sleep. What had she expected?

"And how is Erol?" he drawled. "Has he gotten anything more out of the prince?"

"Just that the boy knows you killed his sister and is convinced you killed his father. He will play whatever part you wish but he will never forgive you."

"Forgiveness. Another luxury I cannot afford."

Zahra hesitated and Kazimir waited. She had finished her announcements, concluded the business that had brought her to him. And yet she stalled, chewing on her lip as if deciding whether or not to speak her mind.

"Out with it, then," Kazimir encouraged her, impatiently.

"You're making more enemies than friends," she blurted. "I know you don't care about that, not really, but historically, leaders with more enemies than friends don't last very long nor do they make much of a mark on the annals of history. I don't wish to see you, and our cause, suffer the same fate."

"Have you come to dwell on your fears or do you have a suggestion?"

"We need allies."

"I am in the process of acquiring them."

Zahra blinked at the response, obviously surprised. She had come prepared for a fight, ready to convince him of her side of the argument, and had found him already steps ahead of her as he always was. Kazimir sighed in exasperation.He tired of their lack of faith in him. When would they cease to doubt him?

"You are?" she asked.

"I'm not at liberty to divulge any more information than that at the moment. I'm sure you understand. But I've made contact. They're thinking over my proposal as we speak."

"Well, that's... good."

"Maybe."

He turned away from her then, his attention falling back to the map in front of him, back to the little model of Delos, the trees and rolling hills carved into the oak. What he had in mind, what he had offered Gisella, wasn't the alliance that Zahra was asking for. He knew that. But he couldn't approach the king of Karil himself. Nicolas would never agree to meet with him, much less actually hear what he had to say. But the girl had his ear and a much softer heart than she was willing to admit to. She saw the rationality in his offer, saw the hope of it, the chance for a new world without prejudice, without this ceaseless discrimination against their kind. She would relay his message when she had convinced herself of its value. It wouldn't take long.

But he needed to be ready when she was. And he could not focus on the politics of alliances or the tactics of war if he were being plagued at all hours of the day by his own crippling fear of weakness. He could not lose his power. Without it, he was nothing. Without it, they would not follow him, he could not lead. So he had to attend to this matter first. It was, after all, the more important of the two. Allies or not, the prophecy was clear. Two would emerge and the world must choose one. If this girl was the other half of his prophecy, he needed to know more about her as quickly as he could.

"Ready my horse," he said then, turning away from the table and toward Zahra. "Yours and Erol's as well."

"Where are we going, Sire?" she asked curiously.

"To Delos," he answered, his cloak trailing behind him as he swept from the room in a flourish. "There's something I need there."