My arm strains against the taut bow.
We stand in the very same spot we had during the Purging Trials, facing a faded target and competing for bragging rights. It’s been nearly two days since Kai buried his brother beneath the willow tree, and this is one of the many distractions I’ve forced upon him.
There was a quiet walk through the garden, interrupted only by the occasional reminiscence of the boy buried so near. Our trip to the kitchen was filled with soft laughter and warm sticky buns—Jax sought comfort in his brother’s arms while Gail kissed the top of Kai’s head. I’ve urged him to write like Kitt had, relieve his mind of the many swirling thoughts within. His hands are still stained with ink.
Every night has been spent in a pool of moonlight. Blankets litter the floor of my room, layered into a makeshift cot beneath the row of windows. Kai prefers it this way, and I happily oblige. It is as though we have created our own little fort to feel closer to those we have lost. We hold each other before drifting into the nightmares that plague us. But with each sleepy sun that peers down on us, Kai wakes more like himself.
I let the arrow fly. Allow myself a smug smile when it sinks just beside the bullseye.
This is my latest distraction for the future king.
“I would understand if you wished to forfeit now,” I offer.
Kai’s fingers brush mine as he pulls the bow from my grip. “Don’t play nice, darling. I can handle losing to you.”
I raise a brow. “Did you already admit defeat?”
His lips twitch. He looses an arrow quickly, unfazed by the several inches separating it from the center of the target. “This is meant to be a distraction, is it not? So, I don’t need to win.” I swallow when he steps into me. “I just want to enjoy it.”
Normally, I would scoff at his arrogance, but I’ve missed it enough to settle on a slight tilt of my head. “And what is there to enjoy in losing, Malakai?”
“That.” His dimples steal my breath away. “Your company. Your taunting. Your lips forming my name.”
I nock an arrow. “I don’t need to be winning to insult you.”
With a deep breath, I fire.
“No,” Kai says slowly. “But you need to be winning to smile like that.”
I realize then that I’m beaming at the bullseye I’ve struck. Taming the triumph on my features, I turn toward the seemingly casual Kai. His hands are tucked loosely in his pockets, hair tousled, and eyes bright in the fading sunlight.
He is beautiful.
The thought isn’t a surprise. And yet, I’m unable to tear my gaze from him. Such stoic strength seeps from him like the shadow clinging to his heels. This is a boy who has known little more than hardship his whole life, wounded by the man who raised him and left by the brother who loved him.
The brother who hated me.
“What is it?” Kai’s voice is laced with concern.
Frustrated, I wipe at the emotion welling in my eyes. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry. This is supposed to be a distraction for you and…”
“Talk to me, Pae,” Kai urges. He pries the bow from my sweaty hand before tossing it aside.
I shake my head. “It’s just… I hate that he hated me.”
“He didn’t. He wasn’t himself, and you were just…” His gray gaze falls from my face. “In his way.”
That gnawing numbness I’ve suppressed over the past several days comes rushing to the surface. “I cared for him. And this is all my fault—”
“No. We read his letters.” Kai grasps my hands. “You know what he said in that study. None of this was your fault. Kitt was sick. Both physically and mentally. He only wanted to prove himself.” His voice grows rougher with every word. “Did I make him feel that way? Why did he take that Plague? Did he think I needed him to be anything more?”
“No, Kai.” I cut off the dangerous thought before it can fester. “He wanted you at his side because you never made him feel inferior. You were the good in his life. The anchor he clung to.”
“Kitt was the good brother,” Kai murmurs. “Not me.”
“Good. Bad.” I shrug a shoulder. “We are all just shadows of what we believe to be true.”
Kai’s scoff is pained. “Kitt certainly believed in something.”
“And you?” I prod. “What does the future king of Ilya believe in?”
He ponders this for a moment. “The inevitable. You.” His fingers tickle my cheek on their way to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I think we got it wrong in Dor. You are the Flame. And I… I am the Shadow falling at your feet.”
Eventually, we fire the rest of our arrows at that target.
Unsurprisingly, I gloat thoroughly at my predestined victory.
Delicately, we visit the willow tree and those buried peacefully beneath.
Admittedly, I fail to be a diversion from Kitt’s death.
Foolishly, a poet tells me I am never not his distraction.
