Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) by Stephen Allan Read Free Book Online Page B

Typhos controlling him or playing some trick? Is the Emperor really trusting me to do all of this?
    “I know how to fly our fighters and am trained as a soldier, something my father made me do before I could claim the throne. He believed an emperor could not command his people if he did not properly understand how those people worked and have the respect of his military. I have never had to put those skills to use, but I am not going to sit by and watch people die. I will go in and fight.”
    “Sir—”
    “Crystil, just call me Caius for now. Tell me what to do.”
    Well, I see where Cyrus gets his stubbornness from. This is insane. But if it inspires the people…
    “Very well, sir. Caius, sir. Do you need any training to refresh your memory?”
    “Training? No. But I wish to join others in rebuilding fighters. Anything I can do to help build, I will do. But not until tomorrow morning. I must say goodbye to my children before they go to Vostoka.”
    “Of course, si—Caius, yes, Caius.”
    The Emperor gave a warm smile and a short laugh as he bowed to Crystil. Crystil instinctively bowed back. He told her he didn’t have to, and she just blushed, still not comfortable with being superior to Emperor Orthran. Or calling him by his first name. What is this?!?
    Yet she could not help but have all the respect on Monda for the way he conducted himself. If the people had even considered slacking off, the sight of their leader welding materials together and carrying supplies across a warehouse would get them back in line. I only hope I lead by example as well as you do, Emperor. When the day comes that we need to fight, I will be there with you in the sky. You can count on that.
    Crystil followed Caius back into the warehouse. Inside, she saw Garrus laughing with the Kastori as he explained something. The sight warmed her. Here I was, thinking all the other humans would react as I first did. I thought these would be like the magicologists. Turns out, there’s really only one magicologist left.
    And all of us—humans, Kastori, royalty, soldiers—are going to beat him.

 
     
     
     
    10
    Cyrus couldn’t sleep at all.
    He had trouble wrapping his head around the fact that his role was being reduced— at least, in my head— as time went by. When they left Monda, he felt like a clinger, not supporting Crystil and not making their relationships more diplomatic like Celeste did. When they fought Calypsius, he didn’t pilot the ship, nor did he uncover his identity as a Kastori. And when Typhos came, it was Crystil who had warded him off long enough for them to escape and it was Crystil who had shot Typhos after he had nearly killed his sister.
    He gave up on rest when light gleamed through his window. He walked out to the main warehouse and listened to the shouting of people and the sound of ships coming together. He glanced left and saw his reflection on glass. Despite being twenty-five years old, he felt he looked like he was forty. His hair had gotten grayer, the lines on his eyes had become more defined, and his health had become worse. He stressed out more easily, recalling the memory of his sister’s mortal wound too easily and frequently. He snapped at inconsequential matters— last night —more often. He began to have more understanding of Crystil and her early days on Omega One and understood how easy it was to break.
    I’m probably closer looking in age to Pops than I am to Celeste , he thought to himself.
    A loud clang came from somewhere far away, followed by numerous curses. Cyrus muttered a curse to himself too, wondering both how they could defeat Typhos and how they could build enough ships— if there is a such thing —to defeat whatever Typhos attacked with.
    “Cyrus.”
    The soft voice of his sister whirled him around. She brushed aside her hair, concern in her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept much either.
    “You don’t look so good. Are you OK?”
    “I’m—”
    Just be honest. It’s