“Lady Chrys!”

“Chrys!”

Her knuckles were white, everything else was a blur. Her head hung, she began to apologise. If she lowered herself enough, the same way she did before the empress, she could survive this. She could get away with a few bruises, but at least she would escape with her life. It all depended on how satisfied Kyzar was with her grovelling.

But what was this?

Why was he on the floor with her?

“Chrys, before I cart you back to bed.”

His rough voice, his warning words, all of it were threatening, but when he slipped his arms under her legs and across her back, he could not be any gentler. Several heartbeats later, she found herself seated in his lap, sandwiched between his chest and the desk. Though she was caught in the crosshairs of his attention with no possibility of escape, she still tried to make herself as small as she could, folding her legs and her arms and hanging her head.

Both men waited for her in silence. Kyzar’s face, right next to hers, meant that she was well within smacking range. She had to be careful, lest she angered him enough into killing her.

“I really am sorry,” she said quietly, almost pleading. She was taking a huge risk here, speaking without his permission, but she could not stop the words, the pleas, from tumbling out. “I didn’t know, I really didn’t.”

“Didn’t know what, Chrys? Stop apologising.”

“That it was her.”

The air became very still.

Kyzar’s voice boomed. “What do you mean by that?”

“She… She is my aunt. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please, I did not know, I really…”

“Quiet,” he commanded. “Chrys, did you have anything to do with the state of my being?”

She was so close to tears, but still holding it in. “No.”

“Did you not help me?” 

His fingers were reaching for her neck. This was the end. Those thick, purple digits were going to wrap around her throat, and they would squeeze until all of the air in her lungs depleted. Finally, the pressure would escalate and culminate in one decisive snap, and it would all be over. She squeezed her eyes shut as her chin was tipped up.

A light, moist tap skimmed her cheek, and she jerked. “What?” she breathed.

“Stop apologising for things that are not your fault. Who cares if Horan is your aunt. I’ll kill her the first chance I get…unless you wish to stop me.” Kyzar’s red eyes bore down into her. “Was it her who sealed your magic?”

He had licked her, and while Elliot pretended he had not seen anything, Kyzar was interrogating her as if it was the most normal thing to do after such a spectacle. Strangely, she felt calmer. The knot in her stomach was weaker, as was the witch’s claws around her heart. She shook her head.

“There’s another vile creature that I need to deal with,” Kyzar declared. “Who sealed you?”

“N-no,” she whispered. “No.”

“My lady, please do not fear His Grace. Your Grace, if I may proffer you a piece of advice, please stop scaring her.”

Kyzar’s skin bristled, and Chrysanthyllis did not know whether to wrap her arms around him, or to stuff a yam into Elliot’s mouth. She looked down at the trembling hands in her lap.

“I feel like you fear me more now that I am able to speak.”

He was not wrong. He was still a monster, but during the time he was capable only of animal sounds and head movements, that was all he was: a monster. With speech, she saw him differently. He was more person, more human. 

Nothing good ever came out of interactions with people.

They tormented her, ridiculed her, all to satisfy their desire for power and entertainment. They took away her nanny, her magic, everything she held dear, and they would never stop taking. Why was it so difficult for them to just banish her and let her live out of their sights? Why was everyone out to get her when all she had ever done was be born, and it was not something she even had a choice in? 

“Elliot, have Arnoki prepare my horse.”

“An outing, Your Grace?”

“Yes. Use the smallest saddle we have.”

There was no way even the largest warhorse would be able to carry the weight of a monster on its back, and Kyzar requesting the smallest saddle could only mean it was for her. She was tired of running and pleading for her life. If Kyzar intended to take her somewhere secluded and eliminate her, she would simply accept her fate. 

After getting coaxed out of the hole in the wall, Chrysanthyllis looked up at the sky. Winter was soon ending, and so too would her life. If there was such a thing as a next life, she wanted to be born an animal. A short life not bound by human greed and decree, governed only by the laws of nature, one where she could live and die without lamenting why or how it came to be.

Elliot was waiting on the other side, reins in hand. Next to him, stood a magnificent beast of a horse.

“Lady Chrys, pray come. This is Konan, His Grace’s horse. He has retired from service, but he’s still a healthy old fart – ahem, apologies, my lady, he’s the greatest warhorse to ever trot this land.” Elliot lowered his voice to a soft quibble, but unbeknownst to him, Chrysanthyllis had a good pair of ears on her head that heard every word he said. “Konan, I beg of you, do not chomp down on my lady’s hair, for neither you nor I would escape with our heads if His Grace finds a bald patch on her. That does not mean you can rip my scalp off, either.”

“Konan,” she mumbled. 

The black horse stared at her, nostrils flaring, teeth clacking. A wild beast with nothing but mischief on its agenda, Chrysanthyllis knew he would not hesitate to do exactly what Elliot warned him not to do. But, she was not playing around either. If she was to die, it would not be without hair. Her eyes narrowed, daring him to try his luck.

Behind her, Kyzar’s voice reached her with quiet curtness. “I’d be careful if I were you. Konan has an eye for beauty, and he would not hesitate to—”

Kyzar had locked tongues with her many times while they were mating, but not a single one of those experiences had prepared her for a horse’s slobbery kiss. It was like getting her face pushed into soggy pie, and it was not pleasant at all. Thankfully, her teeth had been clenched and her lips pursed tightly.

Mystified, she stared at the proud horse. Elliot disappeared for a short bit, returning with a wet towel. She scrubbed her face so hard she turned pink, and it was not just from the winter cold. She never wanted to stand near Konan’s head again.

“Heh.”

It’s not funny at all. Why must you laugh at me? Until I draw my last breath, why must you treat me like a fool? Why can’t all of you just let me have some dignity before you kill me?

“Come now, let me help you mount him. Konan, behave. Or, I’ll have you on my dinner table tonight.”

Harrumph. You wouldn’t dare. But I’ll behave.

Perhaps war brought survivors closer in hearts, because Kyzar and Konan had a bond between them, one of love and respect, one that transcended appearances. Avis once told her that Kyzar had entered and dominated the battlefield at the tender age of thirteen. Konan probably had been his first and only horse through those years. She had no one like that. This was all her life amounted to. She only ever had herself.

Elliot’s figure gradually shrunk as Kyzar guided Konan along the snow-covered trail through the forest. It was her first time on a horse, but Chrysanthyllis did not feel intimidated. She supposed since she was riding to her death, the means with which she took her final journey would hardly scare her more than the destination itself.

“Talk to me, Chrys. What are you thinking about?”

Chrysanthyllis’s bottom lip trembled. “I don’t want to die.”

Kyzar stopped, and Konan followed suit. “What do you mean? Is your curse killing you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why do you say that, then?”

“Are you not leading me out to remove me?”

A dead silence hung between them. Kyzar was staring at her, as if the redness of his eyes could not get any more chilling. He raised his arms to her. Resigned to her fate, Chrysanthyllis leaned down towards him, and his hands surrounded her waist, lifting her off the saddle. Once again, he was cradling her.

“Do you really think I could remove you?”

She wrapped an arm around his neck, tucking her head under his jaw so that he could not see her face. “I don’t know. We are capable of a lot of things.”

“We are,” he agreed. “But, Chrys, have I ever done anything to you to suggest I would remove you?”

She flinched. Quietly, she thought long and hard, but came up with nothing. Even when they had not been acquainted yet, from the first day he showed himself to her and she hit him with a book, he had always approached her with the same care one took with a scared doe. It was only her who consistently misunderstood his actions.

“No,” she whispered, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“As long as you’re aware,” he replied. “I imagine you have not had an easy life. I won’t blame you for thinking the worst of me, but I hope that you’d let me hold your hand as we navigate a life together.”

A life together. It sounded nice, and Chrysanthyllis nodded. If she could stay with Kyzar, never to return to Keashire, she would be the happiest person alive.

“I’ll try,” she said, and she meant it with all her heart.

“Good. Now, sit with me. Barnes is on his way.”

They settled on the snow, with Chrysanthyllis sitting on his lap. She wanted to ask him who Barnes was, but she dared not, lest she opened a can of worms earlier than was necessary. Peace and quiet all around them, energy was flowing in pulses. Just being there, without having to do anything, she could feel her body turn into a sponge, absorbing, healing. Her lungs filled with cold air and renewed purpose, her heart with a stronger will to live. 

Psssssst.

“Barnes is here.”