Author's Preface
Kyra breathed in deeply. The type of breath that fills you up completely and tells the rest of your body that it’s time to wake up no matter how much it protests. She stretched from the base of her skull all the way down into her toes. Kyra laid an arm down in front of her, only to find Jysarra wasn’t there. Her eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room. The summer breeze was still drifting in through the window and the sky beyond the glass was a deep indigo giving way to a soft blue. The sun would crest the horizon soon.
Kyra pulled herself up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed to sit. She drew a match from the drawer on her nightstand, struck it, and brought light back to the room with the candle beside her bed. A quick sweep of the room revealed that nothing was out of place, though she did find it peculiar that Jysarra’s nightgown was draped over the chair next to her violin stand. Surely she wasn’t parading around the estate bare as the day she was born? The thought was broken by the soft whistle of a blade cutting the morning air, followed by the measured rhythm of controlled breathing.
She padded over to the open window and cast her gaze into the retreating darkness below. A smile formed on Kyra’s lips before she even registered the thought. Jysarra was in the garden practicing her sword forms, because of course she was. Kyra smiled despite herself. Gods, even now she was breathtaking. It had taken all her willpower last evening to push Jysarra away when her lips were on her neck. It was a magical night, though. Kyra watched Jysarra, a silent sentinel from on high. She noted how every movement was both graceful and economical. The blade was practically an extension of Jysarra’s body as she transitioned from one form to the next without any hesitation.
Kyra pushed back from the window, grabbed a length of ribbon from the nightstand, and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. She couldn't help wanting as much time as possible with Jysarra before the day was upon them and duty made that impossible. Kyra made a hasty exit from the bedroom, down the stairs, and hurried along the hallways until she found herself at the doors to the terrace. She pushed the door open gently and padded along the stonework.
Jysarra flowed from one movement into the next with impossible grace. A slow turn became a sweeping cut, the blade singing through the cool morning air before rising overhead and crashing down in a decisive strike. Without the slightest hesitation she pivoted, stepping forward into a long, elegant thrust. There she stopped, body settling into a balanced stance so perfect it seemed sculpted from marble. It was beautiful.
It was also unmistakably deadly.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Kyra stopped in her tracks.
“How did you know?”
“Your footsteps. Like I said, all the grace of a drunken ox.”
Kyra’s mouth hung open in mock offense.
“And to think I let you kiss me with that mouth.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
Jysarra drew herself up, held the wooden blade against her back, and closed the distance between them. She placed a finger beneath Kyra's chin, tipped her head back just so, and then leaned in and kissed her.
She had changed into a fitted ivory linen tunic with long sleeves, unlaced slightly at the throat, and dark charcoal leather trousers. Her feet remained bare against the dewy grass, and her hair was loose and flowing almost to her waist.
Jysarra turned away, rolling seamlessly into another series of forms. If she didn’t have the practice blade in hand one would swear she was dancing across the grass. Perhaps Kyra would let Jysarra lead their next dance after all. Another training blade lay against the cool stones of the terrace and an amusing idea came to Kyra. She took it up and just as Jysarra pivoted around into another set their blades struck.
“I believe you need an opponent, Miss Kil’rahel.”
“And you have volunteered as sacrifice?”
“Oh come now, are you boasting you’re that good where everyone else pales in comparison?”
Jysarra waved Kyra off to a starting spot with her blade.
“Yes.”
Kyra narrowed her eyes at Jysarra. She considered herself decent with a blade, but she had always preferred a bow in her hand. She held it up into a close guard and stepped left. Jysarra mirrored her movement, though she was almost lazy in her step. Her blade was down at her side and a rather smug grin was splayed across her face.
Kyra stepped forward without hesitation. A high cut. Then a low cut. Into a thrust. Jysarra didn't retreat. She simply wasn't where the blade was going. A small sidestep. A pivot. Then a lean. She moved with the casual ease of someone solving a problem she'd answered a thousand times before.
Kyra cut across the body in a wide arc. Jysarra sidestepped and directed Kyra’s blade into a flat spin with her own. Kyra used the momentum to come back around with another high cut that Jysarra intercepted and swept away. Each movement was punctuated by a slow inhale or controlled exhale, as though the sword obeyed the rhythm of Jysarra’s breath rather than the other way around.
Then Kyra thrust forward again. Jysarra spun away from it and Kyra felt the distinct sensation of a wooden training blade on her backside. That elicited a sharp yelp from Kyra. She straightened up and turned to find Jysarra standing with a thoroughly smug grin on her face.
“Did you just… spank me?”
“Perhaps.”
Kyra narrowed her eyes.
“Take this seriously.”
Jysarra’s grin became an amused smile.
“I wasn't aware my life was in danger.”
Jysarra sank into her form. Her back leg swept out in an arc. Her blade came up over her head. The smile disappeared. Not angry, just utterly focused.
Oh. She really wasn't trying before.
Kyra stepped in with a convincing feint to the left before driving a clean thrust toward Jysarra's center. Jysarra met the blade with one clean parry. A twist of her wrist and Kyra’s practice blade spun harmlessly into the grass. Before Kyra could even react Jysarra stepped inside her guard. One hand caught her lightly at the waist. Then Jysarra's lips were on hers. Kyra was breathless as Jysarra’s lips parted from her own.
“That was cheating.”
“No.”
A beat.
“The spanking was cheating.”
Jysarra’s lips found hers again, and Kyra couldn't stifle the little giggle that escaped her.
“If this is how sparring with you goes…” She kissed her again. “Then I shall have to be your partner far more often.”
“That can be arranged.”
Jysarra’s pupils swallowed the color of her eyes. Kyra felt the subtle change in her breathing and how Jysarra’s fingers trembled for just a moment. For just a heartbeat, the confidence seemed to drain out of her. It filled Kyra with a profound sadness and not just because she cared for Jysarra so much, but because someone or something had hurt her so deeply that Jysarra didn’t feel safe with intimacy and vulnerability.
Jysarra took a breath and stepped away. She crouched low and grabbed the training blade that she had relieved Kyra of a moment ago. Kyra felt heat on her back, and then dawn was upon them, bringing light back to the world. She closed her eyes and let that sensation wash over her, but when she opened them again Kyra noticed Jysarra was still crouched with a hand up shielding her eyes. She looked toward the rising sun and remembered that Dark Elves suffered beneath its light. So she moved before the thought had fully materialized in her head. Kyra stepped into the path of the sun before Jysarra, casting a long shadow upon her.
“Would you accompany me inside? All this swordplay has worked up a ravenous hunger in me.”
Kyra held her hand out and Jysarra took it without hesitation. Kyra stepped past her so the sun was at Jysarra’s back and helped pull her up. Kyra couldn’t help but notice how Jysarra was looking at her, just as she had last evening before they had drifted off to sleep. She led Jysarra through the servant’s tunnels until they emerged into the kitchens. The staff were already busy preparing all manner of breakfast foods: fresh fruit, meats and cheeses, poached eggs, toasted bread, jams and jellies, and, to Kyra’s great delight, leftover pineapple tarts.
Kyra turned, ready to ask Jysarra what she wanted, but she was still staring at her with that same look whilst nibbling on her lip. She grabbed a plate and began loading it up with a little of everything including a stack of the pineapple tarts. Jysarra continued to follow her wordlessly and Kyra felt the first flicker of frustration that Jysarra wouldn't simply tell her what she was thinking. As she led them back through the tunnels to the dining room Kyra took a breath and let that feeling go. No sooner had they sat down then Kyra took a bite out of one of the tarts.
“You’ve been quiet since sunrise.”
Jysarra opened her mouth to respond, but Kyra beat her to the punch.
“Don’t apologize. Just tell me whatever it is that has you so preoccupied.”
“It’s just that…” Jysarra bit off a piece of the bacon and swallowed it. “You really were sunshine. In the garden. And…”
Kyra laid a hand over one of hers.
“And?”
Jysarra pulled a folded piece of parchment from her pocket and slid it across the table, though she did not take her hand off it as Kyra moved to grab it.
“Up early writing me love notes?”
Kyra flashed a cheeky smile, but Jysarra’s expression had turned grim.
“I found this when I awoke this morning. It had been affixed to the open window.”
Kyra’s face scrunched up as she took another bite. She didn’t understand what Jysarra was getting at. Jysarra unfolded the parchment and laid it out before Kyra.
YOU BELONG TO ME!
Kyra coughed, nearly choking on her food. Jysarra started to rise, but Kyra held up a hand to reassure her she was fine. Coughing is breathing, her mother always said. A few moments later Kyra took a generous swallow of water and regained her composure. She picked up the parchment and examined it thoroughly. No other words or letters, no signature, nothing except that hastily written message. She looked at Jysarra. She was nibbling at her lip. Kyra read it again. The letters had been pressed into the parchment so hard they had nearly torn through it and the ink had pooled around the exclamation mark, as though the quill had lingered there.
“What is this?”
Jysarra’s head hung low. She was picking at her nails.
“It’s Mairen.”
“You’re certain of that?”
Jysarra shook her head.
“It’s her.”
Kyra sat for a moment, then slid her chair around the table. She swatted Jysarra’s hands away from one another and took one in her own.
“Who is this woman to you? You said you knew her. Back at the House of Earthly Delights. But this–” she gestured to the letter. “Says your relationship was far more than professional.”
Jysarra’s face pulled tight. Kyra watched as her eyes went glassy with unshed tears, and Jysarra turned away. She buried her face in her free hand and her breath faltered. Kyra gave her hand a squeeze and laid her head gently upon Jysarra’s shoulder.
“Jessie, I know this is difficult for you, but I need you to tell me.”
Jysarra shook her head weakly.
“...you won’t like me once you hear it.”
Kyra straightened back up, then reached over and turned Jysarra’s face back toward her. Tears had escaped and were rolling down her cheeks.
“Look at me, please.”
Jysarra’s brow furrowed, but she looked up at Kyra all the same.
“Nothing could make me not like you.”
Jysarra’s chin dipped again. Another sob escaped her, and her breathing faltered. Kyra was beginning to think Jysarra was determined to believe she wasn't a good person. That she was undeserving of Kyra’s affection. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“I rescued her when she was a child.” Her words were raspy and weak. “She latched onto me from the first moment she saw me. A-and as she grew older that attachment became… possessive. Carnal.”
Kyra let her hand drift across Jysarra's back, hoping to soothe her.
“I tried to redirect her focus. To keep our relationship professional, as you said, but…”
She looked up at Kyra once again. Fresh tears fell even as she tried to blink them away.
“I failed her in that. I was lonely, and Mairen was always there. And now–”
The words faltered.
“Now she’s become something dark and twisted because of me.”
Kyra wrapped her arms around Jysarra and pulled her into a hug. Jysarra couldn’t hold back any longer. Her tears flowed freely and she sobbed openly into Kyra’s shoulder. Kyra, for her part, simply held onto her tight, one hand stroking through the ends of Jysarra’s hair. After several minutes Jysarra finally took a deep breath and pushed herself back from Kyra.
“Don’t look at me now, I’m a mess.”
Kyra tucked a strand of silver hair behind a pointed ear.
“You’re a beautiful disaster.”
“Stop,” a weak laugh escaped Jysarra. “Take this seriously.”
Kyra wiped a tear from Jysarra's cheek, and she leaned into that touch.
“Why are you so kind to me? So understanding?”
“Why would I not be?”
Jysarra grabbed Kyra’s hand from her face.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Because I l–”
Kyra caught herself. Her chest pulled tight and she swallowed hard. Jysarra noticeably tensed.
“I like you.”
She looked over the letter once more.
"Do you think she means to hurt you?"
"No."
The tension eased from Kyra's shoulders.
"She'll hurt everyone around me instead."
Jysarra pulled her hand free from Kyra’s. She pushed her chair back, creating space between the two of them.
“You shouldn't be seen with me. She could be watching right now.”
Kyra finally understood. Jysarra wasn't afraid for herself. She was afraid for everyone else.
“No.”
Kyra reached for Jysarra, but she pulled away.
“No?” Jysarra questioned.
“No. I won’t allow this woman to dictate our relationship and how we interact.”
Kyra grabbed another of the pineapple tarts from their plate and took a far too generous bite. Jysarra huffed out a chuckle and Kyra once again saw her nibble at her lip.
“You look like a squirrel hoarding nuts.”
The oversized bite immediately betrayed her, sending her into another fit of coughing. A few swats on the back from Jysarra and a swallow of water later, Kyra was mostly back to normal. Jysarra had her napkin in hand, worrying the corners before twisting the linen between her fingers.
“Last night, as we lay there, you said I make you feel like you can just be yourself.”
“I did. And I meant it.”
"It's only that... you're amazing, Kyra. Truly. I hope one day you never feel you have to be anyone but yourself."
Kyra’s chest went tight at her words. A nervous laugh fluttered up and out of her.
“Jessie… stop, you're making me blush.”
“Like I said, I like making you blush.”
Jysarra reached out and brushed her fingers through Kyra’s hair. They drifted down her back and she pulled Kyra to her.
“Fuck anyone who tries to tell you not to be who you are.”
Kyra laughed once, heartily.
“There she is.”
Jysarra tilted her head at that.
“What do you mean?”
Kyra placed a hand high over Jysarra’s heart.
"Sometimes it feels like you're trying to be the woman you think you have to be instead of the woman you already are."
Jysarra took half a step back.
“What are you saying right now? That I'm fake? That I’m pretending?”
“No. Please, no, that is not what I’m saying. It’s just that–” Kyra took a breath. “You deserve to be who you are, too.”
Jysarra’s head hung low. A long moment passed between them. Then, Kyra swore she heard her choke back a faint sob.
“See?” She said, barely audible. “Amazing.”
***
Jysarra had unfortunately remained distant throughout the rest of the morning and the carriage ride back to Brighthollow. Not cold, just distant. Kyra was never one to chase after someone’s attention, not even Jysarra’s, as much as she cared about her. No sooner had they arrived at the manor than Jysarra had disembarked, grabbed her bag, and been off nearly before Kyra could stop her. Perhaps she wasn't quite as stoic as she fancied herself. She simply hadn't been able to let Jysarra leave without one last kiss. A kiss, Kyra noted, that Jysarra melted into.
The opening ceremony for the Midsommar festival was nearly upon them and Kat, Madam Lin, and her lady’s maid, Maren, had been poking and prodding at Kyra all day long. Wear this. Don’t wear that. Back straight, don’t slouch. Chin up.
“If anyone asks you about the incident in Brickstown, tell them ‘No comment’ or refer them to Captain Dallmann or myself,” Kat said.
Kat was busy deciding between two different necklaces, wondering aloud which would make her seem approachable but strong. Kyra let out a soft sigh. She was not pleased that her bedroom had become a communal space for Kat, Van, and herself to prepare for the festival with Madam Lin, Maren, and several other servants attending to them all.
Van, at least, realized how ridiculous this all was. She had started off polite, for her anyway, and would wave off anyone that came her way. That turned into verbal shooing, and now, just staring at them until they moved on. She was also currently blowing a stubborn strand of hair from her face with varying success much to Kyra’s amusement.
Maren stepped into Kyra’s line of sight and fixed her with a glare. Kyra had been the dutiful daughter and sister at every function one could think of, but now she was questioning what any of that had actually gotten her. This was not fun.
She wanted to experience the festival, not attend it. Wander Green Market Square as the sea breeze drifted in. She'd walk arm in arm with Jysarra, feasting on honey-fried fritters while groaning at the bards. Kyra wanted to be herself, not Lady Kyra Kiermann, sister to Archduchess Katarina Kiermann.
Just Kyra.
Fuck anyone who tries to tell you not to be who you are.
Jysarra’s words played through her head. She was right. Maren dipped a soft brush into the gilding powder. Kyra caught her hand as Maren made to sweep it across her cheekbones.
“No, thank you.”
Kat held a hand up to stop her lady’s maid, though it was Madam Lin that spoke up first.
“My lady, now is not the time for defiance.”
Kyra’s expression tightened. Defiance? Oh, they had not even begun to see how defiant she could be.
“Madam Lin,” she paused. “Please.”
Lin opened her mouth to respond, but Kyra would not be interrupted.
“With all due respect.” Kyra took a breath. “Shut up.”
Madam Lin’s eyes went wide. An awkward silence fell over the room as everyone stopped what they were doing. Van was smiling widely and giving Kyra two silent but enthusiastic thumbs up. That is until Kat whipped her head around to stare directly at her. Van immediately pivoted into flexing her biceps, though the nervous look in her eyes and the smile that became all teeth betrayed her immediately
“Vanja.”
Van tugged at her collar.
“Oh, full name. Sorry peanut, you’re on your own.”
Van stood and made for the door, clapping a hand on Kyra’s shoulder as she passed by. Kat gave a look to everyone else in the room and they made themselves scarce a moment later. Kat took their mother’s sapphire necklace in hand and brought it around her neck.
“To what do we owe this outburst to today?”
Kyra met Kat's gaze in the mirror. She gave herself a long moment to focus on her response. She wanted to provide a logical and reasoned argument, not an emotional response.
“As I look back over the past eight years I can’t help but notice that anytime I stood up for myself you labeled it as an outburst.”
Kat found the clasp and smoothed the necklace out. She turned to Kyra, tapping her fingernails against the arm of her chair.
“Kyra, we don’t have time for this. The opening ceremony is in less than an hour. I need you ready and proper.”
“Proper? I am not some showpiece to be polished and presented.”
Kat sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“As I recall, you never behaved this way when Mother asked these things of you.”
“Enough.”
A fire was burning bright and hot in Kyra. She would not let Kat or anyone else stomp it out. Not today. Not anymore. She knew what she wanted for herself. Who she wanted.
“I loved our mother, dearly, but she was rigid and implacable regarding her plans for us. It didn’t matter that I wanted to experience the world outside these walls. It didn't matter that I wanted to meet new people. No, the only thing that mattered was excelling in what she deemed important so I could continue the family legacy of bureaucracy and administration.”
She took a breath.
“And you’ve become her.”
Kat didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. The hurt was written all over her face. Kyra's stomach tightened. That hadn’t been her intention, but what she said was the truth. Kat would survive and move on from this disagreement. So would Kyra. Just not today.
“I will be going to the festival on my own. Not as a representative of the House. Just me.”
Silence hung between them for a long moment.
"Do you think I enjoy any of this?"
The words were barely audible. Kyra couldn’t remember a time ever that Kat seemed this diminished. She had imagined standing up for herself would feel triumphant. Instead, it simply hurt.
“Kyra, I have an entire city looking to me today.”
Kyra stood and crossed the room to Kat. She threw her arms around her and squeezed her tight. For a moment, Kat remained still. Then she hugged her back.
“I’m not asking you to not be that person, Kat, but…”
Kyra pulled back, locking eyes with Kat’s reflection once more.
“It’s not who I am.”
Kat didn’t say anything further, just a small nod to signal her understanding before rising and making her retreat from the bedroom. A pang of guilt shot through her as she watched Kat disappear through the door. That was quickly replaced by an overwhelming desire to see Jysarra again. After all, a few short hours without her was unbearable.
She strode to her closet and threw the doors open. She tossed aside the dress Maren had prepared and reached instead for black riding trousers. An ivory high-collared linen shirt followed, then her deep navy vest, polished riding boots, and finally the midnight-blue frock coat. Kyra ran her hands through her hair and shook it out before pulling it back into a ponytail.
Without any further hesitation she walked out of her room, down the long hallway, and out of the manor. The sun was already low, its light fractured by the distant peaks of the Sabre Mountains. Kyra hurried along the Tradeway with a scattering of other festivalgoers running late. Most of the shops and businesses had been shuttered for the evening so that everyone could attend the festival if they wished to. Green Market Square was overflowing with peoples of all sorts, but Kyra wove her way through the crowd with equal parts determination and politeness. She stopped off at the Slice of Life Bakery, grabbing herself a honey-fried fritter and apple cider. She also laid down ten platinum so that everyone else could enjoy the baked delicacies despite the baker’s insistence that it was too much.
Kat’s voice boomed over the entire district, carried on the power of the Arcane. She thanked everyone for attending, went on about how grateful she was for this city and its wonderful people, and bid them all to enjoy the festival. It was a fine speech. Sincere, even. It simply wasn't why Kyra had come.
She continued through the great press of bodies toward the mainstage set against the old Laurentian wall on the far side of the square. She shoved the last of the fritter into her mouth, silently amused that she probably looked like the squirrel Jysarra had compared her to that morning. As Kyra made the final push to the front of the crowd the clear ringing of bells cut through the din.
The last light of the sun faded, replaced by the soft glow of the city lights, as the Dark Ladies made their way on stage. They were beautiful. Ethereal. Yet all of them paled in comparison to the one person Kyra had been longing to see since they parted that morning. Jysarra had changed back into a version of her priestess vestments, though she had omitted her cloak and swordbelt.
A reverent hush fell over the crowd. Jysarra’s sisters took their places, holding an open hand up toward the moon. Jysarra stepped slowly to the front edge of the stage and her eyes found Kyra. Kyra couldn’t help but smile widely as her chest went tight. She saw Jysarra’s fingers brush over the emerald ring on her forefinger. An emerald the same shade as Kyra’s eyes. She wondered if that same thought occurred to Jysarra. Then, her voice cut through the silence.
Don't you think about me enough
I've been burning my heart out
Got to face need to tell you
I won't run cause I'm reticent
It was deeply haunting. A beautifully melancholic performance that stirred Kyra’s heart. And throughout it all Jysarra’s gaze never faltered. It was as if she was singing only to Kyra and the thousands gathered were merely spectators to her serenade.
You will know you're reborn tonight
Must be ragged but I'll stay by your side
Even if my body is bleached to the bones
I don't want to go through that ever again
As Jysarra sang, Kyra stopped hearing the crowd altogether. The truth settled over her with startling clarity. She loved her. Kyra smiled, in that idiotic lovestruck way people do. She loved Jysarra, and Jysarra deserved to hear it, however terrified she might be.
So cry no more
Oh my beloved
Go ahead be proud
And fight it out
You are the one
A rising star
You guide us far
To home
Jysarra's final note lingered in the evening air. A single tear escaped, trailing slowly down her cheek as her eyes fluttered closed.
Then Kyra heard it. The familiar sound of an arrow whistling through the air.
Another.
And another.
Then, the screams.