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Chapter 31 Are These Butterflies?

(KYLA’S POINT OF VIEW)

“This training is brutal!” I complained, throwing myself on the floor like a child.

“But it’s working, isn’t it?” Valencia asked, already knowing how I’d answer.

I nodded.

With gloating delight, she said, “Pain is an excellent motivator, it even stimulates the subconscious so that your entire mind is singularly focused on finding a way to stop the suffering.”

“So that’s it then? Your entire plan is just to torture me until I figure things out?”

Valencia’s smile slipped into a wounded frown.

The woman was entirely too good at appearing meek and innocent despite the monstrous reality of her true form and abilities.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Ky,” she assured.

She had to know I wouldn’t believe her.

“Don’t I, though? The fact that you know what I’m thinking is reason enough to fear you.”

She laughed. “There are greater horrors in the world than an old mind reader. If this is enough to scare you, then I’m afraid you’ll make quite the lousy hero.”

Her words made sense, that didn’t mean I agreed.

“That’s enough for today.” She said as she helped me back to my feet.

I had been so focused on her that I hadn’t noticed anyone coming until Pyro opened the training room door.

“Valencia,” he said, acknowledging her presence with a nod, then stood in silence by the open door.

She nodded back then silently left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Now alone with Pyro, I realized Valencia was right. There certainly were much scarier beings than her, and she’d just left me with perhaps the most terrifying of all.

My memories of him were vague, though somewhat firmer than those of my family. I didn’t recall specifically what happened, but even hearing his name sent tremors down my spine.

He strode to me and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder to steady my trembling. It felt safe, comforting even, but something in me jumped with apprehension at his touch.

Reeling backward, I tripped over my own feet and nearly fell on my ass.

Again Pyro was at my side, his arm curled round my waist stopping my falling.

“Do you hate me?” He asked with a slight tremble in his voice. “If you want me to leave, you need only say so. My pride may be hurt, but that’s far better than watching you stumble and fall to flee from me.”

Not knowing how else to respond, I shook my head then stood up straight.

“I’m sorry, I just uhm…” I expected he'd let go, but we were now standing chest to chest and I could feel his breath on my cheek as I turned away, embarrassed by the situation.

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I could feel his heartbeat and knew that he could feel mine as well; I only hoped he didn’t notice mine racing.

“I overreacted.” I looked down and realized at some point, my arms had wrapped him. I was now equally responsible for this awkward yet comforting embrace.

“No, you don’t need to apologize. I shouldn’t have touched you so suddenly.” He frowned, then as if he’d only just noticed that he was still holding me, he released my waist and stepped back, saying, “I’m sorry, it felt so nice being near you that I forgot to let go.”

My heart fluttered at his words, lifting away some of the tension. Despite my initial apprehension, I realized that I actually enjoyed being held.

It felt warm and tender like he truly cared for me and the loss of that sensation left me longing for it again.

“It’s okay,” I said gently, shaking my head before I extended my arms towards him offering a hug.

The gesture was only half intended for him, mostly I just wanted that feeling back.

I’d never felt so at peace and it was nice to feel safe and protected even if just for a moment.

Before I could get my arms around him, he stepped back. “No, I’m sorry Ky, but I really shouldn’t be getting distracted with these kinds of things right now.” He said, clearing his throat.

Confused, I gave him a puzzled look, but dropped my arms to my side and stepped back.

Did I do something wrong?… and did he just call me Ky? I asked myself wondering why it sounded so wrong coming from him.

So many people called me Ky, even Fey in his multitude of messages had almost always called me Ky, and yet it made my skin crawl hearing the name from Pyro’s mouth.

“Actually I came here to tell you something.” He was so serious that I forgot my embarrassment and braced myself for what I expected to be a heavy conversation. “I'm sorry Ky…”

There it is again.

He was still talking but the queasiness I felt when he called me Ky, distracted me from his words.

All at once, my fear and discomfort came back.

“Kyla?” He called, tapping me on the shoulder. “Are you… okay?”

Feeling bad for freezing up, I said, “Sorry. Can you repeat that? Oh, but please don’t call me Ky.”

He nodded. “Well, to get right to it, I’ve been informed that your brother—“

“Feydon.” I interrupted, still somewhat uncomfortable with thinking of him as my brother.

“Feydon… he may have died.”

I waited several seconds after he stopped speaking to ensure there was nothing else then I sighed in relief. “That's all? I was expecting something more serious like maybe a city was being terrorized by beasts and you needed me to go save the day.”

He raised an eyebrow at my response. “Oh, I was expecting you to be more upset.”

“Should I be?”

My feelings about others were all messy. I barely recalled my brother’s face, but when I took a moment to think about it further, my eyes began welling up with tears.

I had no clue where they came from, but they wouldn’t stop flowing. “I’m sorry.” I sobbed, again feeling embarrassed and also overly vulnerable. “I just…”

“It’s okay.” Pyro comforted as he pulled me in close. “I’m here for you.”

I stayed there in his arms crying for some time. It wasn’t the messy kind of bawling where you whine and scream and cry so hard that your nose runs. I was mostly quiet and my breathing stayed even, but the tears ran down my face in what felt like an endless stream.

When I was done, my tears had soaked an entire sleeve of Pyro’s shirt and even began pooling on the floor.

A testament to his character, he removed the shirt and used it to clean the mess then walked me back to my room.

More than one pair of eyes in the hall looked inquisitively at the shirtless hero. When their gazes passed to me, it was with judgment, envy, or both.

Before shutting the door, I turned to say, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Kyla. I’ll see you tomorrow.”