All Hail the Shifter King
Title: Lords of Kensington, Part 4
Word Count: 1810
Note: The conversation between Kat and Ryder about selling souls / immortality is one of my favorite conversations between them, despite how short it is.
Katrina yawned loudly as she dropped her utensils and pushed her plate onto the coffee table. Crispin was there in a heartbeat, licking the last scraps of meat and rice from the plate before he ate the lamb bones as well.
"That's it, I'm exhausted," she announced as she pushed herself off the sofa and staggered toward the bedroom. "I'm going to bed."
"Alright," came Ryder's distracted reply.
"You're welcome to join me," she added. He looked up at this, raising an eyebrow suspiciously, and she rolled her eyes. "It's a king sized bed, Ryder. You won't even notice I'm there, I promise."
"The last time I shared a bed with you, I got shot," he reminded.
"Then we can only improve from there, right?" When he didn't seem about to follow her, she shrugged and crawled into the bed, squirming around until she was comfortable under the covers and then pawing at the lamp to turn it off. For a few minutes she could hear Ryder moving around in the living room, putting down the second helping of food for Thaddeus and Crispin and returning the empty plates to the cart. He spoke to the keesin in low tones and the beasts chirped and grunted at him in response. Another few seconds of silence and then she heard the click of the ceiling fan turning on, followed by the bedroom's pocket door sliding open. "I knew you'd cave," she murmured with a grin, twisting to look at him as he climbed onto the bed beside her, his coin glowing faintly in the dark. "Can't resist my charm, can you?"
"If I sleep out there I'm apt to be smothered by your hellbeasts," he said, shoving the extra pillows out of the way and punching the remaining one into submission before he dropped onto his back. "This was the lesser of two evils."
"Hey, at least I'm the lesser this time," she muttered, and rolled over to check the clock. Four thirteen. Moaning, she hauled the blankets up over her head. "Can I just sleep for the next two days?" she asked. "I'd seriously sell my soul for that, right now."
"I'll add that to the list of things you've offered your soul for in the last twenty four hours," Ryder observed. "Right up there with cigarettes, chocolate, a cabana boy, and fuzzy slippers."
"Yeah, but sleep, sleep is worth selling my soul for. Don't you think?"
"I can't say I've ever gotten to that point, no."
"Okay, smartass, what's your soul worth, then?" she asked, rolling over to face him. He lifted the coin off his chest and gestured at her with it, and she made a face. "That doesn't count."
"It doesn't?" he asked, confused.
"It's supposed to be an imaginative exercise, Ryder. Not literal."
"One would think I'd get a one-up because I actually did sell my soul." He rubbed his fingers across the uneven golden surface, then dropped the coin back onto his chest. "What a waste that was," he sighed. His words caught Katrina off guard, and she stared at him in mute shock for several seconds before he finally opened his eyes and looked at her. "What?" he asked.
"I've never heard you say that."
"Say what?"
"That it's a waste."
"It is."
"You actually think that?"
"Contrary to what you might think, immortality isn't all that great." He stared up at the ceiling, rubbing his fingers across the odd medallion. "You spend most of your time wishing you'd had a say in the matter and..." He paused, as if suddenly realizing he'd said too much, then cleared his throat and closed his eyes again. "It's not important," he said finally.
"I... always thought you liked being the way you are," she said, and it was the truth. She'd never once gotten the impression that Ryder resented who he was - if anything she'd thought he reveled in it, the odd life he lived and the magics at his disposal.
"There's not much of anything to..." He paused again, then growled in what was either disgust or frustration, she couldn't tell. "This is pointless," he said. "Go to sleep."
"But..."
"Go to sleep, Katrina," he repeated.
She lay beside him for several long minutes, stung by his dismissal and the abrupt end to the conversation, her eyes fixed on the necklace's faint pulse of light from beneath his hand, timed to his slow heartbeat. Without thinking, she reached across the space between them and wrapped her fingers around his, holding tight when he flinched and tried to pull away.
"For what it's worth," she said, "I'm sorry you didn't get a choice. And... and I'm sorry for what they took from you, your people and... my people. I'm sorry that things didn't work out the way you wanted, back in Azinsi, but..." She hesitated, trying to choose the right words. "But in a way, you know, I'm glad. I'm glad you didn't, because... then I would have been almost five hundred years too late." He opened his eyes and looked at her, studying her face with his typical neutral expression, and her words caught momentarily in her throat before she could force herself to continue. "I mean, you're difficult and you're pig-headed and you spent a lot of time trying to convince me that you're an asshole..." She grinned in relief when he smiled faintly. "But you're not, not all the time... and that's good because, well, I have a bit of a soft spot for you, you know. And I wouldn't have survived that mess without you. So... thank you, I guess, and I know it sounds stupid but that's all I can think of. Thank you, for going through the trouble, and... and sticking it out with me, and... giving me the choice that you didn't get."
She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then rolled over and curled into a ball on her side of the bed, feeling somewhat better - if not ridiculously vulnerable - and determined to try and get some sleep before she said anything else to make her feel stupid or emotionally delicate. She was just on the brink of dozing off when she felt the mattress shift with movement - seconds later, she felt his cool lips brush her temple and the light thump of the medallion against the back of her shoulder.
"You were worth it," he whispered, and she fell asleep listening to the sound of his breathing, the quiet snores of the keesin in the other room, and the gentle hum of the ceiling fan.
She had to give him credit - he stayed in bed for at least an hour before he finally got up, and though he obviously made an effort to be quiet she was immediately aware of his absence. She laid in bed for several minutes, listening for movement and trying to figure out if he was coming back, but when she couldn't pick out any auditory clues she shoved herself out of bed with a grumble and walked out to the other room.
"Hey," she said quietly, "you really should try and get some sleep before -"
An arm snaked around her torso, jerking her backwards, and she only had time to gasp in surprise before a hand clamped over her mouth. She kicked instinctively and threw her elbows back, making contact with unprotected shins and ribcage before -
"Fuck's sake, Kat, calm down," Ryder hissed in her ear, pulling her back against his chest. She couldn't see the coin, but she could feel the angry heat of it between her shoulderblades. Her eyes swept the room, looking for the keesin, and she found them hunkered down between the sofa and the wall, cowering against each other and shivering, their eyes a brilliant, fearful white.
"What's going on?" she whispered when Ryder removed his hand from her mouth, but he only shushed her, kept her hugged to his body. It felt so strange, to be wide awake and trembling with adrenaline but not know why. In Rion Fell their enemies had shown no measure of subtlety - they attacked frequently and often without warning, and she'd grown accustomed to jerking awake in the middle of the night to the sound of an approaching vehicle, or glass breaking, or the screech-howls of the casieya on another rampage. But as the seconds turned to minutes she found herself growing anxious and confused, her adrenaline-shakes turning to genuine shivers as the cool air enveloped her exposed skin. And still Ryder held her close to him, his muscles tensed in anticipation, and Crispin and Thaddeus didn't so much as twitch their ears from their hiding place.
Then, she heard it.
It was faint, at first, the muffled sound of footsteps on the carpeted hallway outside their room. Slow and deliberate, they quickly seemed less like footsteps and more like the sound of something thick and solid striking the floor between long periods of silence. It sent chills down her spine for reasons she couldn't begin to describe, the long anticipation between each "step" making her stomach churn nervously as if she were watching a horror movie.
"Ryder, what -" she began in a choked whisper, but he shushed her again as whatever was making the noise stopped outside their suite. The small crack of light beneath the door flickered as something moved in front of it, and she could hear a heavy hum, like the drumming sound of a dragonfly's wings made hundreds of times louder - oddly hypnotic, it served as a strange counter to the wet, rattling growl as the thing lowered its head to the bottom of the door and snuffed at it. She felt herself shrink against Ryder, her legs tensing as she prepared to run - but where, exactly, would she go? There was only one exit, and if the thing decided to let itself in - and she had no doubt, really, about its ability to do so - she had no idea how they would get themselves out.
It remained at their door for what felt like hours, growling and sniffing and grunting, until finally it moved away with the same aching, steady stomp. They both listened in silence until she heard the fire door bang open and shut down the hallway, and when silence claimed the room again she breathed a trembling sigh of relief.
"What was that thing?" she asked, moving across the room to check on the keesin. They whined piteously and nuzzled against her like children startled by a nightmare. Ryder stood where she'd left him, his hands clenched into fists and the coin glowing an orange-red in the darkness.
"I don't know," he finally said, and the tremor in his voice only served to heighten her sense of dread. "But pack your things. We're leaving."
Word Count: 1810
Note: The conversation between Kat and Ryder about selling souls / immortality is one of my favorite conversations between them, despite how short it is.
Katrina yawned loudly as she dropped her utensils and pushed her plate onto the coffee table. Crispin was there in a heartbeat, licking the last scraps of meat and rice from the plate before he ate the lamb bones as well.
"That's it, I'm exhausted," she announced as she pushed herself off the sofa and staggered toward the bedroom. "I'm going to bed."
"Alright," came Ryder's distracted reply.
"You're welcome to join me," she added. He looked up at this, raising an eyebrow suspiciously, and she rolled her eyes. "It's a king sized bed, Ryder. You won't even notice I'm there, I promise."
"The last time I shared a bed with you, I got shot," he reminded.
"Then we can only improve from there, right?" When he didn't seem about to follow her, she shrugged and crawled into the bed, squirming around until she was comfortable under the covers and then pawing at the lamp to turn it off. For a few minutes she could hear Ryder moving around in the living room, putting down the second helping of food for Thaddeus and Crispin and returning the empty plates to the cart. He spoke to the keesin in low tones and the beasts chirped and grunted at him in response. Another few seconds of silence and then she heard the click of the ceiling fan turning on, followed by the bedroom's pocket door sliding open. "I knew you'd cave," she murmured with a grin, twisting to look at him as he climbed onto the bed beside her, his coin glowing faintly in the dark. "Can't resist my charm, can you?"
"If I sleep out there I'm apt to be smothered by your hellbeasts," he said, shoving the extra pillows out of the way and punching the remaining one into submission before he dropped onto his back. "This was the lesser of two evils."
"Hey, at least I'm the lesser this time," she muttered, and rolled over to check the clock. Four thirteen. Moaning, she hauled the blankets up over her head. "Can I just sleep for the next two days?" she asked. "I'd seriously sell my soul for that, right now."
"I'll add that to the list of things you've offered your soul for in the last twenty four hours," Ryder observed. "Right up there with cigarettes, chocolate, a cabana boy, and fuzzy slippers."
"Yeah, but sleep, sleep is worth selling my soul for. Don't you think?"
"I can't say I've ever gotten to that point, no."
"Okay, smartass, what's your soul worth, then?" she asked, rolling over to face him. He lifted the coin off his chest and gestured at her with it, and she made a face. "That doesn't count."
"It doesn't?" he asked, confused.
"It's supposed to be an imaginative exercise, Ryder. Not literal."
"One would think I'd get a one-up because I actually did sell my soul." He rubbed his fingers across the uneven golden surface, then dropped the coin back onto his chest. "What a waste that was," he sighed. His words caught Katrina off guard, and she stared at him in mute shock for several seconds before he finally opened his eyes and looked at her. "What?" he asked.
"I've never heard you say that."
"Say what?"
"That it's a waste."
"It is."
"You actually think that?"
"Contrary to what you might think, immortality isn't all that great." He stared up at the ceiling, rubbing his fingers across the odd medallion. "You spend most of your time wishing you'd had a say in the matter and..." He paused, as if suddenly realizing he'd said too much, then cleared his throat and closed his eyes again. "It's not important," he said finally.
"I... always thought you liked being the way you are," she said, and it was the truth. She'd never once gotten the impression that Ryder resented who he was - if anything she'd thought he reveled in it, the odd life he lived and the magics at his disposal.
"There's not much of anything to..." He paused again, then growled in what was either disgust or frustration, she couldn't tell. "This is pointless," he said. "Go to sleep."
"But..."
"Go to sleep, Katrina," he repeated.
She lay beside him for several long minutes, stung by his dismissal and the abrupt end to the conversation, her eyes fixed on the necklace's faint pulse of light from beneath his hand, timed to his slow heartbeat. Without thinking, she reached across the space between them and wrapped her fingers around his, holding tight when he flinched and tried to pull away.
"For what it's worth," she said, "I'm sorry you didn't get a choice. And... and I'm sorry for what they took from you, your people and... my people. I'm sorry that things didn't work out the way you wanted, back in Azinsi, but..." She hesitated, trying to choose the right words. "But in a way, you know, I'm glad. I'm glad you didn't, because... then I would have been almost five hundred years too late." He opened his eyes and looked at her, studying her face with his typical neutral expression, and her words caught momentarily in her throat before she could force herself to continue. "I mean, you're difficult and you're pig-headed and you spent a lot of time trying to convince me that you're an asshole..." She grinned in relief when he smiled faintly. "But you're not, not all the time... and that's good because, well, I have a bit of a soft spot for you, you know. And I wouldn't have survived that mess without you. So... thank you, I guess, and I know it sounds stupid but that's all I can think of. Thank you, for going through the trouble, and... and sticking it out with me, and... giving me the choice that you didn't get."
She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then rolled over and curled into a ball on her side of the bed, feeling somewhat better - if not ridiculously vulnerable - and determined to try and get some sleep before she said anything else to make her feel stupid or emotionally delicate. She was just on the brink of dozing off when she felt the mattress shift with movement - seconds later, she felt his cool lips brush her temple and the light thump of the medallion against the back of her shoulder.
"You were worth it," he whispered, and she fell asleep listening to the sound of his breathing, the quiet snores of the keesin in the other room, and the gentle hum of the ceiling fan.
She had to give him credit - he stayed in bed for at least an hour before he finally got up, and though he obviously made an effort to be quiet she was immediately aware of his absence. She laid in bed for several minutes, listening for movement and trying to figure out if he was coming back, but when she couldn't pick out any auditory clues she shoved herself out of bed with a grumble and walked out to the other room.
"Hey," she said quietly, "you really should try and get some sleep before -"
An arm snaked around her torso, jerking her backwards, and she only had time to gasp in surprise before a hand clamped over her mouth. She kicked instinctively and threw her elbows back, making contact with unprotected shins and ribcage before -
"Fuck's sake, Kat, calm down," Ryder hissed in her ear, pulling her back against his chest. She couldn't see the coin, but she could feel the angry heat of it between her shoulderblades. Her eyes swept the room, looking for the keesin, and she found them hunkered down between the sofa and the wall, cowering against each other and shivering, their eyes a brilliant, fearful white.
"What's going on?" she whispered when Ryder removed his hand from her mouth, but he only shushed her, kept her hugged to his body. It felt so strange, to be wide awake and trembling with adrenaline but not know why. In Rion Fell their enemies had shown no measure of subtlety - they attacked frequently and often without warning, and she'd grown accustomed to jerking awake in the middle of the night to the sound of an approaching vehicle, or glass breaking, or the screech-howls of the casieya on another rampage. But as the seconds turned to minutes she found herself growing anxious and confused, her adrenaline-shakes turning to genuine shivers as the cool air enveloped her exposed skin. And still Ryder held her close to him, his muscles tensed in anticipation, and Crispin and Thaddeus didn't so much as twitch their ears from their hiding place.
Then, she heard it.
It was faint, at first, the muffled sound of footsteps on the carpeted hallway outside their room. Slow and deliberate, they quickly seemed less like footsteps and more like the sound of something thick and solid striking the floor between long periods of silence. It sent chills down her spine for reasons she couldn't begin to describe, the long anticipation between each "step" making her stomach churn nervously as if she were watching a horror movie.
"Ryder, what -" she began in a choked whisper, but he shushed her again as whatever was making the noise stopped outside their suite. The small crack of light beneath the door flickered as something moved in front of it, and she could hear a heavy hum, like the drumming sound of a dragonfly's wings made hundreds of times louder - oddly hypnotic, it served as a strange counter to the wet, rattling growl as the thing lowered its head to the bottom of the door and snuffed at it. She felt herself shrink against Ryder, her legs tensing as she prepared to run - but where, exactly, would she go? There was only one exit, and if the thing decided to let itself in - and she had no doubt, really, about its ability to do so - she had no idea how they would get themselves out.
It remained at their door for what felt like hours, growling and sniffing and grunting, until finally it moved away with the same aching, steady stomp. They both listened in silence until she heard the fire door bang open and shut down the hallway, and when silence claimed the room again she breathed a trembling sigh of relief.
"What was that thing?" she asked, moving across the room to check on the keesin. They whined piteously and nuzzled against her like children startled by a nightmare. Ryder stood where she'd left him, his hands clenched into fists and the coin glowing an orange-red in the darkness.
"I don't know," he finally said, and the tremor in his voice only served to heighten her sense of dread. "But pack your things. We're leaving."