was.
Kyros glanced around, but there was no one in sight.
Murmuring the spell words, Kyros creating a warm, crackling fire. It burst into existence a few feet in front of where he was sitting. Its warmth washed over him, and Kyros watched it critically for a moment before settling back, satisfied the spell was stable.
Kyros didn't have a license to practice magic; that had been revoked when he'd been accused of murder. The fire was obviously magical, too. There was no wood to feed the flames, and the fire hovered half a foot above the ground. If anyone demanded to see his license, he could be arrested for not having one. Kyros highly doubted it would be an issue, however; there were no guards in Ourenville, and even if there were, they wouldn't know a proper mage license from a fake.
The crack of a tree branch behind him made Kyros whip his head around, the words to another fire spell—an attack spell— on the tip of his tongue. Kyros shut his mouth with a click of teeth when he caught sight of Raslin approaching. His head was ducked against the wind, and he was wearing a heavy jacket that it took Kyros a moment to place as previously belonging to Raslin's father. He also carried Kyros' coat, which meant he'd been back to Ailynn's house, even if briefly.
"Here," Raslin said, holding Kyros' coat out as he reached the gate. He glanced briefly at the fire, but didn't say anything despite its obviously magical origins.
"Thanks," Kyros said, standing up and accepting the coat.
The fabric was chilly as he tugged the coat on, but it would warm up quickly. Kyros sat back down, the weight of the day finally sinking in as he leaned against the gate. He was tired.
Tired of running and tired of hiding and tired of running into roadblocks at every turn. He couldn't stop, though; he couldn't turn his back on everything he'd worked so hard for. Who would stand up against the council if he didn't?
Raslin didn't join him, but he didn't walk away either. Kyros peered up at him, wondering if Raslin was going to demand an explanation, since Kyros had spoken with Ailynn. Raslin didn't say anything, just started to pace, his forehead furrowed in thought. Kyros waited; Raslin would either say what he was thinking or he wouldn't.
"Your mother is worried about you," Raslin said, continuing to pace. He didn't look at Kyros, scowling at the village as he paced in its direction.
"I know," Kyros said, shrugging. There was nothing he could do about her worry. He didn't want his mother to underestimate the danger; he wanted her safe.
"Why the hell are you planning to go back?" Raslin asked.
His voice was level, but there was no mistaking his anger. His whole body was tense with it as he rounded on Kyros, his eyes daring Kyros to say something stupid.
"Eavesdropping is rude," Kyros said coldly. Raslin had to have eavesdropped; there was no way Ailynn had had enough time to tell him everything and for Raslin to arrive at the ruins so soon after Kyros.
"Trying to hide this from me was rude," Raslin retorted, his eyes flashing with emotion. "And don't give me any bullshit about how you were going to tell me later. I'm not stupid."
"It's more dangerous that you know," Kyros said sharply, scowling up at Raslin. He didn't remember Raslin being so passionate, so easy to anger. "I was trying to keep you out of it."
"They're going to come here looking for you or Ailynn,"
Raslin said, not placated by that. "I wouldn't tell them anything, but obviously you don't think I can be trusted."
"That's not it," Kyros said, startled because he hadn't given the idea that Raslin would betray him a second's thought. "I know you wouldn't say a word, but if you knew anything, if you accidentally let anything slip, then they'd have no qualms dragging you off to the city for a special interrogation."
"What does that mean?" Raslin asked suspiciously. "A special interrogation?"
"Torture," Kyros said flatly. "It's safer if you don't know anything."
"Oh," Raslin
Kyros glanced around, but there was no one in sight.
Murmuring the spell words, Kyros creating a warm, crackling fire. It burst into existence a few feet in front of where he was sitting. Its warmth washed over him, and Kyros watched it critically for a moment before settling back, satisfied the spell was stable.
Kyros didn't have a license to practice magic; that had been revoked when he'd been accused of murder. The fire was obviously magical, too. There was no wood to feed the flames, and the fire hovered half a foot above the ground. If anyone demanded to see his license, he could be arrested for not having one. Kyros highly doubted it would be an issue, however; there were no guards in Ourenville, and even if there were, they wouldn't know a proper mage license from a fake.
The crack of a tree branch behind him made Kyros whip his head around, the words to another fire spell—an attack spell— on the tip of his tongue. Kyros shut his mouth with a click of teeth when he caught sight of Raslin approaching. His head was ducked against the wind, and he was wearing a heavy jacket that it took Kyros a moment to place as previously belonging to Raslin's father. He also carried Kyros' coat, which meant he'd been back to Ailynn's house, even if briefly.
"Here," Raslin said, holding Kyros' coat out as he reached the gate. He glanced briefly at the fire, but didn't say anything despite its obviously magical origins.
"Thanks," Kyros said, standing up and accepting the coat.
The fabric was chilly as he tugged the coat on, but it would warm up quickly. Kyros sat back down, the weight of the day finally sinking in as he leaned against the gate. He was tired.
Tired of running and tired of hiding and tired of running into roadblocks at every turn. He couldn't stop, though; he couldn't turn his back on everything he'd worked so hard for. Who would stand up against the council if he didn't?
Raslin didn't join him, but he didn't walk away either. Kyros peered up at him, wondering if Raslin was going to demand an explanation, since Kyros had spoken with Ailynn. Raslin didn't say anything, just started to pace, his forehead furrowed in thought. Kyros waited; Raslin would either say what he was thinking or he wouldn't.
"Your mother is worried about you," Raslin said, continuing to pace. He didn't look at Kyros, scowling at the village as he paced in its direction.
"I know," Kyros said, shrugging. There was nothing he could do about her worry. He didn't want his mother to underestimate the danger; he wanted her safe.
"Why the hell are you planning to go back?" Raslin asked.
His voice was level, but there was no mistaking his anger. His whole body was tense with it as he rounded on Kyros, his eyes daring Kyros to say something stupid.
"Eavesdropping is rude," Kyros said coldly. Raslin had to have eavesdropped; there was no way Ailynn had had enough time to tell him everything and for Raslin to arrive at the ruins so soon after Kyros.
"Trying to hide this from me was rude," Raslin retorted, his eyes flashing with emotion. "And don't give me any bullshit about how you were going to tell me later. I'm not stupid."
"It's more dangerous that you know," Kyros said sharply, scowling up at Raslin. He didn't remember Raslin being so passionate, so easy to anger. "I was trying to keep you out of it."
"They're going to come here looking for you or Ailynn,"
Raslin said, not placated by that. "I wouldn't tell them anything, but obviously you don't think I can be trusted."
"That's not it," Kyros said, startled because he hadn't given the idea that Raslin would betray him a second's thought. "I know you wouldn't say a word, but if you knew anything, if you accidentally let anything slip, then they'd have no qualms dragging you off to the city for a special interrogation."
"What does that mean?" Raslin asked suspiciously. "A special interrogation?"
"Torture," Kyros said flatly. "It's safer if you don't know anything."
"Oh," Raslin
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