His expression twisted, confusion giving way to something akin to pain. His chest rose sharply, as he reached out, his fingers softly brushing her cheek and collecting the tear.
“Please do not cry, Stormy,” he murmured. “You never cry.”
Her face crumpled for a single moment before she slapped his hand away, the sound sharp in the quiet chamber.
“Do not touch me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “And do not call me that.”
Xylos stared at his empty hand, then at her face, his features drawn tight with confusion and something close to panic.
“I do not understand,” he said hoarsely. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Neya’s sobs only seemed to increase as she buried her face into her hands.
I shuffled awkwardly, my eyes darting between the pair.
I was not sure what to think. Whether the texts were fraudulent, which I know is a highly likely possibility, or if Xylos was telling a lie. But why would he?
“Kaelia!”
Talon’s voice roared, echoing through the chamber and sending a shiver deep into my bones.
The faint glow-moss along the walls flickered, faltering beneath his wrath. The shadows in the corners began to writhe, spirits that had been dormant suddenly shrieking as they were pulled into a spiraling tempest.
Xylos rose and stood beside me, pushing Neya’s trembling form behind his back just as Talon emerged from the heart of the silver storm.
“Kaelia.” His fury rolled off him in waves that made the stone beneath my feet groan. “What have you done?”
I forced my chin up, even as my soul wanted to crawl to him and beg for a forgiveness I did not deserve. “I gave a man back his life.”
“That is not your decision to make!” Talon growled, the spirits around him whipping into a frenzy. “I promised you, Kaelia.”
“I understand you need a plan, Talon,” I placated. “But it is not fair to leave him to rot in the meantime.”
Talon’s eyes glowed a furious blue, the irises darkening to an almost navy tone.
“You do not understand what you have done.”
I screwed my eyes closed to prevent the buildup of tears from falling.
“I do not see you doing much to help me, Talon,” Xylos goaded, stepping forward with eyes alight in a mocking fire. “When did you plan to let me free, Master? Three centuries? Or four?”
“Xylos,” Neya warned from behind him.
“Probably four,” Xylos nodded. “Just enough time for a lone Veythar to surrender to the elements and become one with the stone.”
Talon pinned Xylos with a filthy glare. “You have no right to throw accusations my way, Xylos. Your actions are what landed you in that cell to begin with.”
“My father put me in that cell!” Xylos threw his hands up. “How can you stand there and tell me I am not innocent?”
I winced at the flash of confusion that crossed Talon’s face but he was quick to cover it up, his features settling into stoic lines.
“Xylos, you need to get back into that cell,” Talon commanded. “I need more time.”
“I will not,” he growled, his breaths growing heavy. “A true Master will go to war for his kin, Talon. Why won’t you?”
“Enough!” I shouted, stepping between them and facing Talon. “We cannot throw him back down there.”
Talon’s expression faltered for the briefest of seconds, a flash of disappointment breaking through. “You would side with him against me?”