Against the Wind

20.2 || Raya

The cavern's echoic quiet soon filtered out the noise from behind. It settled Raya's thoughts somewhat, pulling in their spiral until her original goal sprang to mind. Kyril made a sound like he was about to speak, but the words were already pulling from her mouth, brittle and slender as a needle point: "Where's Corvin?"

Kyril's half-laugh put a break in his step. Face turned away from her, he hummed to himself, fingers flicking a rhythmic pattern against his palm. "Corvi is where he belongs now." He cut her a darker glance. "He was not yours to keep."

"So he's yours?" The final word stuck to her tongue. Something wriggled along her spine.

The sensation doubled when Kyril stopped suddenly, nearly causing her to trip. The tips of his ears bent. His gaze remained fixated on the unseen end of the tunnel, drenched by the muzzy shadows. "Of course." In contrast, his voice was casual, short yet determinedly cheerful. "He always has been."

Raya's fingers shifted, curled against one another, creaking along with the tension in her bones. She couldn't shake the thought of Corvin gazing out of her window—the bright sadness in his eyes, the restless itch that consumed him, the curl of fear that strayed his gaze. She nodded stiffly, fighting the cold rise of unease. "I understand." Her smile hurt. "I would still like to see him."

Kyril's hooked nose and silvery freckles were backlit by the green lights when he inclined his head. "Why do you ask for him with such desperation?"

Desperation was not what she wanted to show. She fought to coil herself inward, holding steady. "I owe much to him," she said, carefully. "I simply want to know he hasn't found trouble."

He sniffed, a half-chuckle that died out fast. "No trouble will find my Corvi here." Balanced on one heel, he spun back to face her, wearing a grin much too sharp to soften the reflective, midnight glint in his gaze. "I think you owe him your distance."

The growl that laced those words might've been imagined, but either way, Raya's feet shifted back of their own accord.

He followed, unperturbed. An emerald sheen slid over the claw he lifted to point, just gently, at her chest: two slow jabs in rhythm with his speech. "You," he mused, "you are curious. You are what I want to talk about."

Raya's mouth was suddenly drier than the sand-covered rock at her feet. She swallowed hard. "There isn't much to say. I don't matter." Her tongue was weakening, though she'd moistened it over and over. "But Corvin—"

"Why is this worry for Corvin?" His head cocked, ears curling crookedly, face cut into by the dense shadows. "You are far from your home, Raya. I worry for you."

His claw trailed downward as his thoughts drifted, eyes picking her apart, until he seized her wrist in a surge of movement and yanked. She inhaled and bit into her lip, forcing stillness while her veins buzzed with clamorous fear. The touch of Kyril's claws was light, prodding at the softer parts of her wrist. He tilted up her hand and lowered his face. His nose twitched, close to brushing up against the shimmering indigo jewel inlaid into one of her rings.

He tapped at it, then slid the ring free, releasing her hand as he did so. He held it up close to his face with dark fascination washing through his gaze. "Your home is comfortable. Do you not miss your comforts?"

The skin on Raya's fingers prickled as she edged them back towards her. The smooth, cold click of her remaining rings rattled in her ears, a sound she could no longer ignore—she found herself bristling, shoving back the urge to rip the jewellery from her fingers and kick them far, far out of sight. Her forehead itched. Her back felt cold and barren as she lifted her head, uneven strands of hair itching at her chin.