Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,92

no attempt to protect itself. The blade came down across its throat.

Blood fountained from the wound, spraying as high as Ghaul’s head. He pulled the sword free and brought it down again, again, grunting with the effort of each blow. Khirro stood limply, watching, aghast at the sight, but did nothing, said nothing. With the fifth swing, the giant’s head came free from its body. Its arms twitched twice, then the once mighty beast lay still. Ghaul stood over it, lips pulled back in what might have been grin or grimace. The blood spattering his face and up the front of his clothes made his white teeth stand out against the red background.

Khirro thought if he ever saw a demon from the hells, this would surely be how it looked.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The few snatches of sleep Khirro managed that night were brief, full of nightmares.

They’d argued about staying the night at the giant’s encampment or moving on. Ghaul insisted they go because there might be more of the beasts but, when Shyn found a cache of meat, they finally agreed to stay. Despite not knowing what kind of meat it was, Khirro’s growling stomach convinced him to eat.

Athryn lay near the fire, the vial of king’s blood pressed against his injured hip. As Khirro tossed and turned searching for a comfortable position, he thought the absence of the vial against his chest might be what kept him from sleep. He’d gotten used to it being there, drew comfort from it. When he rolled to his other side, he saw Ghaul keeping watch. He’d offered the vial to him, too, but he refused. A real warrior didn’t need magic to heal, he said. Shyn kept watch from the branches above.

“Thank you.”

Elyea’s words startled Khirro; lost in pondering Ghaul’s attitude and searching for sleep, he hadn’t noticed her come to squat beside him. He propped himself on his elbows and looked into her freckled face. She’d used water from one of the skins to wash the tear stains from her cheeks.

“No need.”

She stretched out on the ground beside him, face to face, close enough he felt her warmth.

“If not for you, that thing would have squeezed me in half.” She nodded toward the giant’s body still lying opposite Athryn. They weren’t strong enough to move it, even with all of them helping.

“Not just me.” Khirro felt blood filling his cheeks, adding to his warmth. “Shyn, Athryn and Ghaul are as much responsible.”

“It was you,” she whispered wriggling closer, breath touching his face.

Her eyelids fluttered and she leaned forward until her lips brushed his, the touch making his limbs tingle. He looked at her closed eyes as she kissed him. It had been so long. It felt so good. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment, and a flood of memories surprised him: Emeline’s face, his parents, his brother; how he and Ghaul found Elyea in the forest, what she did for a living. He pulled his lips away.

“I... I can’t.”

“Of course you can.”

She shifted her hips forward so their bodies came together. He moved away to keep the hardness creeping into his breeches from encouraging her, but she pressed insistently.

“Please,” he said, breathing the word. “Emeline...”

“Enough games, Khirro. You may never see this Emeline again, even if we survive.”

Khirro’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

“When you’re asked to leave, people don’t want you to come back.”

Her tone wasn’t spiteful, but the words stung. He saw she was trying to make him understand the truth, and he knew she was right, but it didn’t make the revelation any less painful.

“But she... I... I have to make things right again.”

The tingle of desire disappeared, replaced by hurt and disappointment.

“I see your longing and sadness when you talk about her. I understand your feelings, but when she became pregnant, they forced you into the king’s army. Did your parents or hers banish you?”

Khirro averted his eyes. “Both.”

She stroked his cheek tenderly.

“What happened isn’t your fault.”

She leaned in again, pressed her lips against his, but he didn’t reciprocate. Pulling back, she looked at him, the tenderness gone from her face. Khirro shook his head.

“I can’t.” He wanted to, Gods knew how much he did. That night with Emeline had been the only time—and alcohol kept him from remembering it—but this didn’t feel right. Not here, not now. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” An edge crept into her voice. She stood and wiped the dirt and fir needles from her clothes. “One day you’ll have to stop fucking your dream