Inside the common hall, Adeya hurried to catch up with Kyen. She reached his side as he arrived at the bubbling cauldrons where the cook was handing out bowls and bread.
“Where have you been? Are you alright?” she asked, accepting a bowl and holding it out for soup without noticing.
Kyen looked over at her; his gray eyes alighted on her bandaged wrist, a scratch on her arm, the bruise on her cheek. “Started training, did you?” He put a hunk of bread in his mouth so that his freed hand could accept a second piece. He walked away balancing two bowls. Adeya followed him as he went to sit against a wall.
After arraying his food around him, he tucked in, drinking from his bowl and not bothering with the spoon. Adeya sat down beside him.
Across the hall, a group of warriors sweaty from training crowded through the doorway, bringing their loud echoes and carousing to the cook fires.
“I was beginning to think you left without me.” Adeya set her food aside.
Kyen, about to put the bowl to his lips again, paused and lowered it to look at her. “It’d be against my honor to leave you here.”
A ruckus from the fires drew their attention. Kyen’s eyes fastened on a fistfight breaking out, especially on Oda egging the combatants on from the sidelines. Looking back, he said, “I’ve been searching the outskirts of the ruins for another way out. But it looks like the only way is past the golem.”
“Could Kade get us out?” Adeya asked in a lowered voice.
“As a last resort, maybe. But his aura wouldn’t last long against Ennyen and his fiends. I’m sure they’re not far, waiting.”
They both watched Gennen arrive at the scene of the fight. He twisted the ears of the two brawlers and marched them both outside, ignoring their yelps.
“How’s your training going?” Kyen asked.
“I’m a Bladepupil of Avanna now.” She sat up a little straighter. “I passed Matherfel’s inspection.”
Kyen drained the rest of his bowl and, putting a hunk of bread in his mouth, dug into one of his pockets. He pulled out the five gems—their soft glow lit up his hand—and bit off the bread. When Adeya saw them, her eyes widened.
“Arcstones!” she said. “There’s still aura in them, too.”
“Not much,” he said. “Kade already used up one.” He pulled aside his collar; the line of a new scar shown pink and fresh where the gash had been.
“He healed you?”
Kyen shifted his collar back in place. Picking out the brightest of the gems, he held it out to her. “Here. I want you to have this one.”
She picked it up with ginger fingers. Clear as glass, whiter than a candle flame, the arcstone’s radiance reflected in her aquamarine eyes.
“What am I going to do with it?” She looked at him. “Kade’s with you. Don’t you need it?”
“Just in case,” he said, talking around the mouthful of bread, not meeting her eye.
“Just in case of what?”
He picked up his second bowl of soup to drain it.
“Kyen, just in case of what?”
He watched the line at the cook fires, moving along in order now; the growing group of warriors sat around, shoveled down food and tried to swipe each other’s bread. Their jabber filled the common hall.
Adeya stared at Kyen while waiting for a response, but when he lowered his second bowl, he eyed the new longsword at her side.
“Where’d you get that?” he asked.
“Odallyan gave it to me—but I was asking you a question!”
“May I?”
With a huff, she drew it out, and Kyen took the sword to examine it. He held up the blade, shut one eye, and looked down its edge. As he did, his face fell.
“What?” she asked.
“The weak of the blade is bowed and the edge wobbles.” He handed it back. “It looks like a blacksmith’s apprentice has been practicing. You’d have a hard time cutting anything with this.”
Adeya jammed the sword back into its scabbard. She set about untying it from her belt, but the furious jerks from her hands made her fumble at the knot. When she finally loosed herself of the bum blade, she slammed it into the ground.
“I’ve never been so disrespected in my whole life!” She shouted at Kyen, her voice echoing through the common hall.
He shrank against the wall as those nearby turned to look at them.
She glared at him, huffing, bristling to the bursting point. “I’m glad you’re not like that!” Snatching up her bowl, she began stuffing its contents into her mouth.
Kyen, grabbing his chunk of bread, took a bite and chewed, all the while casting uneasy glances at her. He reached for what remained of his soup bowl when a foot kicked it and spilled it over the ground.
They both looked up.
A Blade of Avanna nearly as big as Inen stood over them with his arms crossed. He wore his black hair in a long ponytail and his flint-gray eyes fixed Kyen with a hard stare. Scars on his arms looked like a criss-cross of sword slashes.
“So you’re the king imminent Gennen told us so much about?” he said.
Kyen looked away; he righted the spilled bowl with careful fingers and set it aside.
Adeya glared up at the Blade, but he ignored her.
“You don’t look like much.” He uncrossed his arms. “Are you really suited to lead the Blades of Avanna?”
Kyen reached for his second hunk of bread, but the Blade kicked it out of his reach. It tumbled across the floor.
“Maybe we should prove you?” A grin broke out over his face. “There’s no reason I couldn’t be the king as well as you. Or better!”
Kyen drew up a knee to his chest and folded his hands on top of it.
“Get up!” The warrior kicked his other leg, still outstretched.
“I don’t want to fight,” he said, still not looking up.
“Get up!” The Blade kicked his leg again, this time harder. “I want to see if you have what it takes to be the King of Avanna.”
Kyen drew his other leg under him out of kicking range.
When the Blade reached for his hilt, Adeya jumped to her feet with her fists clenched at her sides. “Leave him alone!”
The Blade looked amused when he turned his flinty gaze on her.
She scowled back, but the Blade shook his head. Drawing his sword free of its scabbard, he addressed Kyen, “What kind of king lets a mainlander—a mainlander and damsel—do his fighting for him? Are you really that soft? Soft and a coward?”
“He’s not a coward! I said leave him alone!” Adeya stepped between them.
“This is between Blades, mainlander!” He shoved her out of the way, hard.
With a cry, she stumbled and fell sprawling to the floor. A fleshy smack mingled with the echo of her voice.
Even before she’d hit the ground, Kyen launched to his feet. He seized the man’s sword arm, and, using his own momentum and a nasty wrench, he swung the Blade around and into the wall. The warrior’s face hit the bricks with a smack as Adeya landed on the ground.
As she started to prop herself up, Kyen pinned the Blade against the wall. The set to his jaw and the spark in his stormy gaze made her eyes widened.
“Remember your honor.” He gave the Blade’s arm an extra twist, drawing from him a grunt of pain and pushing his shoulder joint to the brink of dislocation. His sword dropped from his hand. It hit the ground with a clatter.
Kyen slung the Blade to the floor opposite from Adeya but didn’t stay to see him go sprawling. He turned and strode away, pausing only long enough to pick up his second hunk of bread. Adeya, climbing to her feet, dashed after him. The Blade watched them leave the common hall while rubbing his shoulder.
Adeya ran in Kyen’s wake as he strode across the city circle. He was walking fast.
“Kyen! Kyen, wait!”
At the top of the stairs, he stopped and let her catch up, his back to her.
“They’ll never leave you alone if you don’t stand up to them,” she said, coming up behind him.
“I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“So you’re just going to let them walk all over you?”
“You don’t understand!” Kyen whirled on her, every line in him taut and hard. “How many is it going to take before they stop challenging me? Proving the Throne is a duel to the death!”
She took a step back; her hand rose to the amulet at her neck.
“How many is it going to take?” Kyen repeated. “Three? Five? Ten? Will they ever stop?”
Adeya, tears shining unshed in her eyes, dropped her gaze to the ground.
“I don’t want to kill anyone!” he said.
As he watched, a tear spilled down her cheek. She sniffed, still not looking at him. When he saw it, everything about him softened.
“I’m sorry. Don’t—don’t cry.” He reached out as if to put a hand on her arm but stalled halfway.
“It’s not right how they treat you.” Adeya wiped at her tear, but another spilled down to take its place. “You’re the hero of Ellunon.”
“I’m not even a Blade of Avanna, Adeya,” he said. “I’m not anyone. It’s better if I disappear.”
She sniffed again.
“The sooner I find a way out of here, the better.” With a sigh, he started down the stairs.
“Kyen?” She walked to the edge of the step he just left.
He paused to look over his shoulder at her.
“Don’t—” She wiped at her face. “Don’t disappear without me. Please?”
“I won’t.” He looked sad as he said it. “Keep your things packed. I won’t be far.”