The Warden

Chapter 47

Light, fleshy-pink, filtered in through Masis' eyelids. Wool, warm and scratchy, cocooned his body. Knees pulled up to his chest, arms clutched just above them, produced a snug heat that released every last ounce of tension from his muscles—a limp, empty hollow only filled with the automatic in-and-out of his breathing. Masis floated in this bubble of body heat and blank thoughts.

His father, his mother, gone. Both his sisters killed before his eyes. The Shadows, men and women that had placed their trust in him, hunted as though birds in a battue. And now, Lady Kyla, a disapproving scowl fixed on her face, was tossed into a grey void of space and mist, an expanse that even her uncanny humanity could not survive.

He had failed them all. Never enough strength. Not quite quick enough. Never enough. Always short of what they needed, no matter how they pleaded or willed him to succeed with their words and eyes, he missed the mark, dooming them to dark, terrifying ends.

Revolving, end to end, his thoughts spiraled inward, plunging to spaces of his mind, so dense they pulled every sensation toward his chest. The very core of this muggy, smoldering ache depressed into that cavity, stretching the fabric of his being, warping his soul as it drew its lighter bits ever inward, compressing them. Support in his inner workings collapsed. He deflated. Only his bones kept his shape.

More tears, hot and stinging, slipped from his closed eyes and slid along his cheeks.

No more. No more! NO MORE!

He bolted up and screamed, eyes squeezed shut, fist clenched at his side.

An overpowering rank of corroding iron assaulted his nose.

Eyes snapping open, three people stood before Masis.

General Biligrim. Master Elwith. And Lady Telias.

"What do you want?" Masis asked, sniffing, while dragging a hand under his nose.

"We don't want anything," said Lady Telias, speaking for the trio. "We were wondering if there was anything that you wanted, actually."

Masis' eyes narrowed, the rims still hot and scorched from his tears. "What do you care what I want? You and your kind have taken everything from me. Everything! Do you want my life? Is that what you are here for? To take my soul? To leave me a husk of what I was? Well, I'm afraid you're a bit late for that." A strangled chuckle split his mouth open, dying into a whimper. "There's nothing left for you to take. Nothing. Unless you want my heart. Go ahead. Take it. I don't need it anymore."

What a fool! Masis scolded himself. They walked right up on him and he did not even notice. Kyla... Kyla would've slapped me.

"Your Grace," began General Biligrim, hands held respectfully before him. "I can't begin to understand what you are feeling. We haven't come to cause you more pain. Master Elwith and Lady Telias have devised a plan..."

"I am not a duke," Masis intoned flatly, cutting the general's explanation short. "I'm not anything. And I am not interested in any scheme which involves that... thing."

A scowl fidgeted on the general's face before straightening back with military precision. His lifelight bled with a staccato of fiery notes that bit like cinnamon in Masis' mindeye.

Apparently, the general has grown attached to that blasted wightie, observed Masis. He grimaced as he slumped back onto his rumpled bunk linens.

Though the king and Masis shared a common sitting room, they each had their own private bed chamber. Up until the three unwanted intruders had barged into his suite, Masis had been blessedly alone. But even with his rather dismissive words, no hint of departure came to his ears or mindeye. The much-hated reek of rust lingered, growing stronger and stronger with every second.