The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Blue and Gold


Golden moments strung together, sweet and glowing in the light of every good memory Khun had.

He didn’t usually let himself think of himself as a kid, but he knew that’s how others saw him then—a seventeen-year-old member of the Khun family, sheltered in his own way from life outside of the Ten Families, experiencing the Tower for the first time.

It was nothing. It was bloody and ruthless, weapons and sharp edges, strategies and broken rules. He’d lived that life from before he was ten, fought for survival and the right to call himself a Khun. He’d earned his name, and betraying his sister couldn’t change that. Betrayal was in his blood.

No. That wasn’t the new, the fresh, the shocking. That was the warmth of brown eyes, a gentle trusting voice, a determined naive boy who’d looked at Khun and called him friend.

Khun hugged Rachel, cold ice in his veins. She was blue and blood in his heart—the same ruthless life and death dance he was born to.

Because she was the reason Bam’s golden warmth was only memory.


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