Alyah had stopped to let a group of tourists cross the road, but she didn’t move forward again until a waiting driver honked behind her.
“Alyah?”
“I’ve heard the rumors,” she said. “We received the mandate after the Battle of Vienna like everyone else. ‘Scribe houses are charged to find and protect any female offspring of the Fallen who seek shelter or succor from their sires.’ I read it, but…”
“You don’t really believe it?”
Her chin went up. “I’ve never seen one. I’ve been a warrior for over one hundred years, and I’ve never seen a female Grigori.”
Leo said quietly, “Probably because most of them are killed.”
Alyah’s jaw tightened as she left the parking lot and maneuvered through traffic. “Why?”
“They call themselves kareshta,” Leo said. “The silent ones. Only the ones who learn to be silent survive to adulthood.” It was a sad litany he’d repeated many times in the previous two years. “And they are killed for three primary reasons. First, they serve no purpose for the Fallen because the Fallen will not use them as fighters. Second, they are considered a threat because their magic is uncontrolled. And third, they don’t instinctively hunt humans as Grigori do. So they are killed.”
Alyah steered the car onto the highway, joining the late-afternoon rush of commuters filling the roads. “I have more questions.”
“We all do.”
Rěkaves, Czech Republic
One year earlier
Leo watched her glide across the courtyard of the castle, nodding at the solemn guard before she climbed the staircase to the walkway along the eastern wall. She spoke to no one, and no one seemed to bother her. There was an air of aloofness that surrounded her. It wasn’t anything she intentionally projected, but it was as clear to others as her dark hair, luminous skin, and crystalline gold eyes.
Kyra was other.
Leo’s heart ached for her.
His body ached too, but he was ignoring that for the moment. She was so alone. He’d hoped, after the Battle of Vienna, that she would find her freedom. Hoped that she’d break free of the shell she’d been forced into for survival as his watcher’s mate, Ava, had done. He wanted her to explore the heart of who she was and who she wanted to be, but all evidence pointed to her still residing in a self-imposed prison.
His feet followed her steps, up the stairs and along the top of the wall.
It was none of his business.
He’d told himself that for months.
She was none of his concern.
He’d written letters to her, in the care of her brother, which was the only address he had. They’d all been returned unopened. After the third one, Kostas had called Leo’s watcher and told him to desist.
Kyra was none of his business. Which didn’t stop Leo from desperately wishing she was.
When he came upon her, the blue dawn light was fading into grey. Kyra was standing at the wall, looking out over the hills where the sun would break free. Leo didn’t try to remain quiet. He didn’t want to startle her, but he’d seen no other opportunity to talk to her alone. She went still for a moment, cocked her head slightly in his direction, then turned her head back to the horizon.
Knowing she’d heard his inner voice and accepted his presence twisted something in Leo’s chest.
“You make the voices go away.”
She’d said it to him the first time they touched, and he wanted more. How? Why? What did it mean? He itched to reach out and embrace her, wrap his arms around her shoulders and bend to inhale the skin at her neck. He wanted to slide his hands down her sides so his arms could encircle her waist. He wanted to enfold her in his warmth, because she looked so cold. So alone.
He didn’t. The only contact she’d ever allowed was when she’d been in true mental distress. He wondered if his presence brought back those memories. He hoped not.
“I like the sunrise,” she said. It was nearly a whisper, as if she was sharing a secret.
He kept his distance. “Why?”
“Before… it was when most people were asleep. It was quiet then. Or mostly quiet. It was the most peaceful I could feel. Dream voices have a different flavor than waking ones.”
“And now?”
She turned her head so he could see the curve of her cheek as she smiled. “I still like the quiet. And the possibility. Everything is possible at dawn, isn’t it?”
“I think so.” He stood beside her and looked at the hills. “I missed you, Kyra. I wrote you letters. Did your brother tell you that?”
She didn’t speak for a long time. When Leo risked a glance at her, he thought her eyes were shining, but it was hard to tell in the light. Her eyes always shone to him. In the grey predawn light, they glowed.
“Kostas told me,” she said. “Thank you for thinking of me, Leo. I didn’t expect you to remember me after that day.”
“I could never forget you.” He inched closer. “Do you want to know what I wrote?”
She blinked and shook her head.
Leo ignored the stab of disappointment and turned to face her. “Why not? I can tell you. I remember every word.”
She turned and looked him full in the face. “Because I lied.”
“What did you lie about?”
The rising sun touched her face. Her ebony eyelashes. The threads of copper in her hair.
“Because everything isn’t possible,” she said. “Not even at sunrise. Not for me.”
“Why not?” He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her. He folded his arms across his chest instead.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I wouldn’t?” he asked. “Or you don’t want me to?”
She reached out and tentatively touched the back of his hand. Her fingertips were cold.
Sparks. Electricity. Leo closed his eyes and let the sensation flow through him. Touching Kyra was like tasting sunlight.
Leo unfolded his arms and reached for her other hand, pressing them together between his own. He drew Kyra’s hands to his mouth and blew air between his palms, warming her cold fingers with his breath. He knew he didn’t imagine the shiver that ran along her skin.
“Let me tell you what my letters said,” he whispered against her fingertips. “Please, Kyra. Let me tell you.”
“Don’t.” She swallowed hard. “Just give me this, Leo. We’re going into battle tonight; I don’t know what will happen.”
“So let me tell you.”
“It will only make it worse when I leave again.”
“So don’t leave. Stay here.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” He locked his eyes with hers as the sun rose over the battlement. “Why not, Kyra? When Ava came to us—”
“I’m not Ava.” Kyra closed her eyes. “In so many ways, I am not Ava.”
“Then tell me why? I want to know.”
“Don’t ask me today,” she whispered. “Just give me this. Please, Leo.”
Leo closed his eyes and bowed his head over her hands, pressing kisses to her fingertips.
And he didn’t ask for more.
Chapter Three
Kyra repeated the spell for the third time, and the kareshta in front of her echoed it. She felt a surge of raw power in the room. Intira—the young kareshta she met first—was present, as were three others. Bun Ma and Kanchana were repeating the words along with Intira, and the other sister was staring out the window. The woman, nearly forty according to Niran, had suffered much abuse at the hands of their father. Prija appeared to be in her late teens, but her eyes were far older.
Niran had told her there might not be much hope for Prija. She rarely spoke and was prone to rages. But Kyra could feel the barely contained magic within Prija. If she was ever able to break out of her shell, she would be formidable. So Kyra encouraged the sisters to bring Prija to lessons even though most were skeptical.
“Breathe in,” Kyra said softly. “And out. Now that you have the spell, try saying it in your mind.” Intira translated Kyra’s words. “Imagine a door at the end of a long hallway. The voices you hear are coming from the rooms off the hallway.”
It had been a challenge to convince Niran to cooperate. He was accustomed to keeping himself and his brothers away from their sisters. To purposely expose them to the soul voices of the Grigori at the temple took some convincing.
“Keep backing away,” Kyra said. “Back and back until the voices aren’t all around you anymore. They’re only coming from the one open door at the end of the hall.”
She forced herself to remain open and walk through the steps with her students, though much of this meditation was automatic for her. The voices of the Grigori outside were muted and far more gentle than she was accustomed to. Niran had still not shared their secret to self-control with Kyra, but she would not stop teaching his sisters even though Sirius was becoming impatient.
She’d been in Thailand for nearly three weeks, and Sirius had been bearing the brunt of Kostas’s anger.
“All the voices are coming from the door now,” Kyra said. “So many voices. But you’re pushing them farther and farther away. They’re crowded together now.”
She heard Bun Ma suck in a sharp breath.
“Repeat your mantra,” Kyra said. “Emetsam tarrea. Ya emetsam tarrea. Don’t worry about the longer spell. Focus on this one.”