Lykalis has a new obsession: a bewitching man carrying secrets stained in blood. But is he worth less than the safety of her kingdom? Or is he worth more than she could ever imagine?
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The King...
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The Duke's Demise
FLAMES roared with jarring movements, heated embers pulsing against pale logs. Wisteria wood crackled and popped as ochre hues burst from within. The scent of petrichor brushed against their noses, sweeping across their shoulders and soaking them in something other than humid rainpour.
Luciano had said the storm would not hinder their travels; it would be whisked away before water droplets could paint wintry paths against their skin. Sidiem's rain was nothing but the tears of Mother nature–who held no sorrow at this time of year.
Evidently, Luciano had lied.
Lykalis drew her wings closer to herself, damp feathers rustling. She was drenched from head to toe, her coat nothing but a defenseless shield clinging to cold skin. Though Sidiens assumed their wings were invincible to all types of weather, her flight feathers were not completely waterproof. She would prefer to remain perched in the branches above, where leaves of gold could cover her shivering limbs. But alas, she could not leave Luciano to tame the fire before them, alone without her as a companion.
As if he even cared about her presence.
She sighed as Luciano adjusted a piece of wood with the tip of his cane.
"Do you ever use it for the sake of your blind eye?" She asked over pattering rain.
Luciano glanced at her, surprise flashing across his features. Perhaps he didn't expect such an innocent question to leave her lips, so mundane and passive. He drew his cane back, away from the fiery flames and golden embers. He twisted the wolf's head once, before leaning it against the stone he was seated upon.
"Rarely." He admitted, eyes reflecting the flames below. "I have learned to use my other senses more than this. . .impediment."
He regarded his cane with a look of contempt.
Lykalis could not help but wonder if Luciano assumed his blind eye made him a burden to others– and that the cane was merely a physical representation of this infirmity. She tilted her head back, lifting a hand to hover above her eyes as she gazed at the dark sky above.
"Your cane keeps you safe though, doesn't it?" She asked.
