C. Bryant - Broken

As the door swung open, Octavion gave her hand another squeeze and led them into the room. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected. For some reason she thought the walls would be covered in gold or at least adorned with some kind of royal tapestries. Instead it looked much like Octavion’s sleeping chambers only on a much larger scale-very impersonal, yet masculine.

His father-the king-stood a few feet in front of them, blocking Kira’s view of the bed. With his shoulders thrown back and his head held high, his stately countenance demanded respect.

Kira stepped forward and gave him as deep a curtsy as she could manage without falling to the floor.

He didn’t even acknowledge her presence. He locked gazes with Octavion, their identical strained expressions and silence could only mean one thing-they were arguing with their thoughts.

She stepped to one side to get a view of Lydia, but Octavion squeezed her hand a little harder and pulled her back.

“Wait,” he whispered, then continued glaring at his father.

But patience had never been Kira’s best quality. Unaware of her nervous behavior, she tapped her foot on the floor. She didn’t even realize until Octavion broke his concentration long enough to chastise her with his eyes.

She shifted her weight to the other foot and silently tapped her big toe inside her shoe. It didn’t seem to have the same calming effect for her anxious nerves. When she started fidgeting, Octavion squeezed her hand again. He squeezed them so often she’d lost the feeling in her fingertips. She tried to pull free of his grip but he wouldn’t let go.

How long could they possibly have this conversation? Octavion said they’d already discussed her seeing Lydia-what else could they be talking about? She watched as their facial expressions changed from anger to frustration and back again. She was about to express her own opinion when Octavion let out a big sigh.

His father turned to face her. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to do the whole curtsy thing again or not, so she just stood there, waiting for further instructions from whoever spoke first. The king didn’t make her wait long.

“You will not speak of this to anyone. Do you understand?” His eyes pierced clean through her. They were deep blue like his son’s, and she could tell he was angry because of the threads of yellow and thin pupils, but there was something else there, a quality she couldn’t quite identify. It made her wonder exactly what his talents and gifts were-perhaps he could read minds or hypnotize with his stare. She lowered her eyes.

“Yes,” she managed.

“Your betrayal has cost you dearly, son. My trust does not come easily.”

Octavion’s jaw tightened. “It is not necessary for you to repeat your words for Kira’s benefit, father. I am well aware of my treason.”

Treason? Kira suddenly had a knot in her throat. She hadn’t given much thought to what this might mean for Octavion. He’d sacrificed the trust of his own father and possibly his crown so there would be no secrets between them.

His father took a step to the side and motioned toward the bed. Kira’s eyes were still down. As anxious as she was to give back Altaria, she couldn’t seem to move.

Octavion pulled her close, putting his hand on the small of her back. He gave a gentle nudge forward. “Kira, it is all right. You may see her now.”

She slowly raised her eyes. The burning that settled in her chest started to catch flame again. “Calm down, Al,” she whispered. With each small footstep her heart skipped a beat. Two more steps and she would be next to the bed and have a full view of Lydia’s face. She hesitated, blinked and took a deep breath.

“Kira, maybe we should. .”

“Shh. . I’m okay.” She pushed away from him and took the last two steps on her own.

There were no words to describe the shell of a woman she saw in front of her. The drawn and empty face, pale and completely void of color, was not Lydia. Her thin lips were so dark, they looked bruised. The circles around her eyes made her skin look transparent-the narrow veins clearly visible underneath. Even her once-golden hair hung dull and colorless around her face.

Tears flowed down Kira’s cheeks as a painful heartbeat hammered against the inside of her ribs. When Octavion’s warm hand touched her shoulder, she spun around and fell into his arms.

“I know,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.

“She can’t. . die,” Kira sobbed. “We have to. . do something. We have to figure this out and give Al back to her.”

“We will,” Octavion said.

Kira turned toward Lydia again. Octavion brushed her hair back away from her neck then bent down and whispered in her ear. “Tell me what to do and I will do it.” His warm breath rushed down her neck like a soothing balm.

“I don’t know.” Lydia seemed so fragile, so broken. Kira took both Lydia’s hands and tried to summon any powers that may remain in the Crystor, but she felt nothing. “Al, try to go back,” she whispered, but only a cold chill ran up Kira’s spine. She dropped Lydia’s hand.

Kira caressed the tiny band of silver, useless and dull. She hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but if what Octavion had said about the Crystor was true, that it could only be removed if one of them died, then Kira should have known Lydia was still alive.

But then. . what about Serena? She’d assumed the Crystor had been removed from Serena’s wrist after she died, but if she lived, how did it get on Kira’s wrist? Did Octavion lie about that too? Did he just tell her it was dangerous so she would stay bound to Lydia? And more importantly, if he was a powerful Jayde, then why hadn’t he tried to fix the Crystor so she could heal herself and Lydia?

“I have a question about the Crystor. . and Serena,” she whispered. Kira turned around to find Octavion’s stature stiff and his jaw ridged.

His father sat in a chair several feet away watching them. When she mentioned Serena’s name he slid to the edge and appeared to listen more intently.

“What do you want to know?” Octavion asked.

She didn’t want to be the one to tell him Serena lived through her ordeal. She didn’t want to see the look on his face when he realized the woman he truly loved still lived in the village. But she needed to know everything about the Crystor. Giving Altaria back may depend on her being bound to Lydia. If it no longer held any power and they weren’t bound, then Lydia and Altaria would remain separated forever.

“Well, I was curious about something. Is it true that the only way I can take off the Crystor is if one of us dies? Is that how you were able to take it back from Serena?”

“Yes, that is the only way. One has to die.”

“So. . if Serena were still alive, there’s no way you could have this-no way I could be wearing it?” She held her hand up so he could see the Crystor more clearly.

“Right,” he said. “Why are you asking me this?”

Kira straightened her back and braced herself for what she needed to do next. Then she looked at the King. “If you don’t tell him, I will.” She made sure her tone was firm so he’d understand exactly what she meant.

The king stood, his face contorted with rage. “How dare you address me in that tone? You will leave now ,” he roared. He crossed the floor, stopping within arm’s reach of Kira.

Octavion jumped in front of him, the muscles in his back swelling as he moved. “You will not touch her, Father.”

“You dare let this woman speak to me in such a manner?”

“She has done nothing.”

“Tell him,” Kira said.

Octavion spun around to face Kira, his countenance almost as angry as his father’s. “Tell me what?”