Chapter 72: Vicious Bonds: Chapter 72

The Blackwater Train Station consists of numerous gray booths and grumpy Blackwater citizens behind thick glass, swapping tickets for rubies. Lots of robberies happen here, hence the thickness of the glass, but they won’t today. Not while I’m here.

It’s not surprising having everyone stare at me. Their monarch is amongst them, going about his business, to a place unbeknownst to them. I don’t often take the train to reach other destinations, I drive. But today calls for it. It’s much faster taking the flash train, going an average of 180 miles per hour.

After ordering two tickets to Luxor from a booth, I walk to Killian who is standing near the tracks. A train speeds by, powerful enough to knock a by passer down if they stand too closely. There’ve been many deaths because of the flash train—some accidental, others committed out of suicidal desires.

I offer Killian a ticket and he glances down at it, his arms folded across his chest. He faces ahead again, not taking it.

“Are you going to be this way the whole time?”

“What way?” he grumbles.

“Pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” he counters.

“Yes, you are. Your arms are folded, and you won’t look me in the eye. You’re pouting because I whipped your ass earlier.”

He finds that funny because he smirks, then puts his focus on me. “You didn’t whip my ass. I let you win.”

I smile, offering him the ticket again. He takes it, then sighs, stuffing it into the pocket of his dark pants. I take out my case of blooms, offer one to him, and after grabbing it, he pulls out a lighter and sparks the end of mine first before lighting his.

“Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into by working for ya,” Killian murmurs, taking a pull.

“Ah, Kill. If only I knew.”

“This Tether of yours. It doesn’t frighten you?”

I look ahead at a mother with four children. She’s shuttling them forward like sheep, trying not to miss the train stationed on the other side.

“A little,” I admit.

“Do you think it’s wise to keep her here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I won’t lie to you. I don’t think it’s wise.” He exhales, a cloud of smoke surrounding him. “I think once someone finds out her attachment to you, you’re dead, brother. Or she is.”

“So, what do you expect me to do, eh? Send her back again? Forget all about her? I tried that and it damn near killed me, remember?”

“There has to be a way to break this Cold Tether—something that will set you apart from her.”

I don’t say anything to that. What is there to say? A part of me hates that Willow is Tethered to me, only because of the peril it places her in, but the other half enjoys it because for once, someone understands my angles. For once, there is someone who vouches for me, and probably always will, no matter what I do. She feels me and understands everything I do without me having to say a word, whether she agrees with it or not.

“The Council will have your head for killing Rami,” he goes on.

“Nah.” I take one last pull, exhale, and then drop the bloom, stepping on the lit end. “They’ve been wanting to get rid of Rami for a long time. They’re probably glad he’s gone. Besides, if they wanted me head, they’d have gotten it already. There’s a reason they want me coming to Luxor. I’m not sure what that reason is yet, but I get the sense that I have nothing to worry about as far as what was done to Rami.”

“With Rami gone, do you think…” Killian drops his head, working his jaw.

“His son,” I mumble.

“He’s only twenty-seven,” Killian says. “Still a boy. Knowing his father is dead and that you killed him, he’ll likely seek his own revenge. If not him, someone else in Rami’s clan will.”

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. As you said, he’s just a boy, and from what I’ve heard, Rami was never really a present father. We get to the boy, get him on our side, squash this brewing war with the Rippies, and finally clear the air.”

A train zips by, the wind causing my jacket to flap. When it stops, the brakes squealing, I say, “This is us.”

We board the train, people moving out of our way as we maneuver to VIP. It’s vacant, so I take a seat by the window. Killian takes the seat across from me, and a trainwoman approaches, asking if we’d like anything to drink. I request a whiskey. Killian goes for blue tonic, most likely to keep him calm. He hates the train.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to come,” I say when the train lurches and departs.

Killian inhales, then exhales slowly. “I’ve said this once, and I’ll say it again. When we had that feud—the one against the Rippies near Shadow’s Peak—and that one fucker gassed me and dragged me to that Rippie pit to torture me, you found me, and you saved my life.” Killian eyes me, a serious stare mixed with sincerity. “You didn’t ask questions, and you didn’t hesitate. You killed every bloody Rippie in there and got me out when I thought I was as good as dead, and for that, I’ll owe you forever.” He leans forward, capping my shoulder with his large hand. I feel his touch searing through my clothes, and as badly as it hurts, I don’t move. “Wherever you go, I go, brother. And no matter how much your decisions piss me off, you’ll never face your threats alone. Not while I’m still breathing.”

I nod, clapping his shoulder too, smiling. “I appreciate you, brother. I really do.”

Three hours is all it takes to get to Luxor on the flash train.

As soon as we step off, I draw in a breath. The air is much different in Luxor than it is in other territories. It’s clearer, with a sweet scent that reminds me of honey. But it’s also cold, so it’s like frosted honey, if it were a thing.

The train moves away, and Killian and I leave the station. Mountains farther than the eye can see are ahead, capped with snow. A chill rides through me, and I turn my head left as a silver X-Stinger approaches. It stops in front of us, and a man climbs out from behind the driver’s side.

“Monarch Harlow?” he asks, eyeing me.

“That’s me.”

“I’m Garan of Luxor, and I will be taking you to Council Castle.” He pulls the back door of the car open, and I glance at Killian, who throws me a cautious look, before I walk ahead, climbing inside. Killian marches to the other side to get in, and Garan is behind the wheel again, driving away from the station.

“It’s a cold one out there, innit?” Garan smiles as he looks through the rearview mirror.

I’m not in the mood for small talk. Their drivers always do this—try to ask questions to pose distractions. I know how The Council works. They want me to lower my guard, butter me up.

Killian and I already agreed that we won’t be having drinks or any food while in Council Castle. I’ve heard the stories, how they slip poison in drinks and give it to those who’ve done wrong. They’ll offer food that looks delectable but is actually rotten. Only they can see that it’s rotten, due to some sort of spell they put on the food.

Garan takes a sharp right off the main road and drives up a winding mountain. Snow falls, trickling onto the windshield, pattering on the windows. I look at the village below. The lights gleam and cars whizz by, like tiny bugs.

Up Garan goes until the dark tips of Council Castle appears, surrounded in a thick blanket of fog. The roof is black, the building made of gray concrete. Several stories high and so big, I’m sure the entire population of Luxor could live there.

Garan drives across the bridge that leads to the front of the castle, a three-hundred-foot drop. Fall off it, and you’re landing on jagged rocks and icicles shaped like daggers. When Garan finally parks, he hops out of the car and pulls my door open for me.

I step out, fixing my jacket, my cap, and when I look up the steps, three people are already standing there. They’re in pure white suits and silver cloaks, their skin a rich dark brown, and their hair as white as the snow on the mountaintops.

Two men and a woman. The woman stands in the middle, Calista, her hair braided on the sides and pulled back into a neat ponytail. The two men are her brothers, Vassilis and Arie. Vassilis is much larger than Arie, twice Killian’s size. He has coily, spring-like hair, while Arie’s is wavy. I can’t stand Vassilis; however, with Arie, it’s easy to make peace with him.

“Welcome, Monarch Harlow.” Calista calls her greeting.

“Go on up then,” Garan insists. I cut my eyes at him before looking at Killian.

“Right, Killian,” I sigh, digging into my pocket to retrieve a bloom. “We know how The Council are. Heads are always up their asses, and they’ll do their best to get under our skin, but we won’t let them.” I light the end of it, inhale, then exhale as I stare at the trio atop the stairs. “They know how hard Blackwater Territory is to handle, so at the end of the day, they need us. We don’t need them.”

Killian grunts, squaring his shoulders.

“Right. Let’s go on up and deal with whatever the fuck their problem is so we can be on our way.”

“Easier said than done,” Killian grumbles.

“I know, brother.” I cap his shoulder. “But today, we do our best to behave.”

I march up the stairs first, and when I’m at the top, The Council takes a step back. Calista smiles, revealing stark white teeth behind blood-red lips. Arie, as always, wears a proud smirk, and Vassilis frowns. Nothing new there.

“I trust your trip to Luxor went smoothly?” Arie asks.

“It was fine.” I fold my fingers in front of me. “Now tell me why I’m here.”

“Are you in a hurry?” Vassilis asks, a hint of agitation in his voice.

I switch my gaze to his. “I am, actually. I have pressing matters to tend to.”

“Matters more important than facing your Council?”

“Yes, believe it or not.”

A growl forms in the pit of Vassilis’ throat, and his eyes flash silver. Those are his angry eyes. I fight a smile, putting my focus on Calista.

“Listen, I know that I’m not here for you to have my head. If that were the case, you’d have done it yourselves in Blackwater, or at least hired someone to do the job for you. Since that hasn’t happened, I believe it’s safe for me to assume Rami’s death has become a convenience for you. So, what is it that I’m here for?”

Calista laughs, a soft noise that is hardly audible in the cold wind. “You have always been a smart man, Monarch Harlow. And you’re right, we don’t need your head. At least, not yet.” She raises her chin, then turns away, moving past two guards near the colossal double doors that lead into the castle. “Let us continue this conversation inside, next to food and a fire. There, we will discuss why we’ve really asked you here.”