Chapter 21 Claeg
By the time I returned to the prince’s room, the sun was steadily climbing, hunting for its release with spiking, bloody tendrils. I felt no less conflicted than when I had left. Anastasius laid in bed with his brows creased and eyes closed. Blankets were strewn to the edges of the bed. Sweat beaded on his forehead. I watched as Anastasius tossed and turned for a while before climbing into bed next to him. I felt the unexplainable urge to comfort him, to touch him. It was almost instinctual when I began lightly tracing his scars with my fingertips. His soft breathing became irregular. Alert. He moaned, leaning in slightly to my touch. “Does it hurt?” I whispered. Anastasius stilled, his breathing stuttering out. He turned toward me, opening his eyes and giving up any pretense of sleep.
“I haven’t felt the pain in a long time.” He yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I lingered over the gnarly tissue of his shoulder blades.
“Tell me about your scars. You know how I got mine.” I propped myself up onto an elbow. He smelled like spiced lavender from the bath.
He sighed but didn’t speak for a while—so long that I thought he was going to ignore me, but then he spoke, the words so quiet, so intimate. Just for me. “Most of them are self-inflicted.”
I froze. My gut twisted at the thought of the prince harming himself. Why would he weaken himself? Before I could demand answers from him, he continued. “I don’t want to hurt myself, but I just . . . I can’t feel anything. I am numb to everything, Eleos. Everything. But you . . . you are addictive.” He cupped my cheek. “You help remind me how to feel.” The vulnerability in his expression was palpable. He bit his lip, his gaze stuck on his twisting hands. My eyes were heavy under the weight of my eyebrows.
I didn’t know how to respond. The man was hurting himself. Weakening himself, I corrected. I didn’t understand his last comment, but before I could question him, the prince spoke. “You are wrong. I don’t know how you got your scars,” Anastasius said, and I could feel the question there: why? Why are your Circles broken? I swallowed. I had avoided this question already, but I could tell the prince wasn’t satisfied with my answer.
“You wouldn’t look at me the same if I told you,” I answered with as much honesty as I could. Anastasius hummed.
“What does it mean to be a Ruptor?” he asked after a moment of silence, startling me. I tried to keep the surprise off my face, but how could I when he was asking the questions that could reveal my purpose? Could he see the chains that bound me? He could free you: the thought barreled into me, and I nearly winced, barely holding it together. If the prince pressed me much harder the truth would spill from me. I sent a prayer to the gods for help, but what did I want? After so long with these chains around my hands, I didn’t know how I would function without them. Who was I without a master pulling the strings? I gulped, closing my eyes. This was meant to be a conversation to learn about his weaknesses, yet it had flipped and disarmed me.
A hand grasped mine, giving it a little squeeze. I had to give him something. Remaining silent would be suspicious. For the moment, I had his grace on my side as he waited for me to come to terms with myself, but that moment wouldn’t last forever. I took a breath and looked at Anastasius. He was waiting patiently for a response.
“The Ruptor drives me to fulfill its needs, to listen to its commands,” I answered, struggling to find the words to explain it. The Ruptor defined me. I settled on “It is my purpose.”
Anastasius cocked an eyebrow. “Your purpose?” he prompted, and I felt the pull to answer him honestly like a tree being pulled out from the roots.
I walked a fine line with these questions, but still the answer tumbled out of me as Anastasius plucked at my roots. “Find and Prune weaknesses—to protect the clan.”
“And what does it tell you now?”
To destroy. But what? I wasn’t sure. I stiffened, the answer caught in my throat.
“Eleos?” The name made me wince, my heart hurting with the reminder of who I wasn’t.
“I don’t know,” I lied, shame flushing through my cheeks. The lie pulled my chains tighter, reminding me that I wasn’t my own master. I turned away from the prince, unable to look him in the eye. I had never felt ashamed for the Ruptor, but now I did, and it confused me.
“I have to check on the patients in the infirmary, to make sure Thyia is managing,” Anastasius mumbled a few days later as we ate breakfast. I nodded, taking a bite of toast and washing it down with some impossibly fresh orange juice. How had they obtained something exclusive to the shores of the Circulus? De Vita had luxuries I hadn’t imagined possible. Water chilled enough to cut, flowers out of season, immaculately crafted and always polished weaponry, scented bed linens, and surfaces so fine they reflected their surroundings better than the clearest water. All were a source of strength I had yet to identify.
We fell into a comfortable routine. I spent the days accompanying him everywhere, more often than not exploring the oasis. With a chaperone, of course. When we returned, he would dress my palms and neck, but they no longer required wrapping. Anastasius folded his hands on the table and an air of silence fell between us. I glanced up at him with a cocked eyebrow, silently inviting him to speak. The Ruptor stirred, sensing weakness.
“Will you be okay here by yourself?”
His question caught me off-guard. I realized it then—we were alone. Why? I frowned at the oddity and blinked at the prince. He didn’t want me to accompany him. My pulse skittered at the thought of him hiding something from me. It was a hypocritical standard considering everything I was hiding from him, but I refused to show that his lack of trust in me hurt. I swallowed the last of the juice and smirked.
“Worried about me misbehaving?” I teased suggestively.
His eyes flared, a breath catching in his throat as if he were contemplating all the ways we could fool around together. His throat bobbed, and my lips twitched.
I winked, reveling in the way he flushed a deep crimson. Emboldened by his reaction, I stood up from the table with its platters of delicacies and made my way to him. His eyes tracked my every movement, eating them up as he gnawed on his raw lip. When I placed my hands on his shoulders, he sucked in a breath. I lowered my mouth to his ear. “Or perhaps you would want to join me?” I could almost taste him with his proximity. He turned to face me, lust evident in his gray eyes, satisfying the Ruptor.
Our bodies nearly shared a heaving breath. “Soon, Selected. Soon.”
My heart plummeted. The repeated rejection stung.
He raised a palm to briefly cup my neck before he spun on his heels and darted out of the room. I waited a moment to ensure he was gone before I pursued him at a distance.
Even though I had never been to the infirmary, I knew I could find the way. The Ruptor sensed the pit of weakness encasing the sick and injured De Vita. I followed my instincts through the hallways, careful to listen for Anastasius so we didn’t cross paths. The scent of the sickly grew stronger the farther I went. The smell led me to a door that oozed illness. I crinkled my nose and listened carefully. Anastasius was quietly talking with someone. “Where is he?” I could sense the tension even through the door.
“Your father sent him to the Neutral Strip,” a woman replied. I stilled, recognizing the voice. The older woman who had given me my only reprieve in the days of torturous thirst.
Anastasius' response was explosive. “He was still healing!”
I frowned, intrigued by his outburst. Who was he protecting? Who were they after in the Strip? I couldn’t help but inch the door open a crack. Light hit my eyes, and I blinked against it, adjusting to the surprising brightness.
“He insisted he was fine,” said an older woman in the center of the room. His back was to me, but even from here I could see the tension bunched in his shoulders. Between us stood rows of beds, each with a weak draconis in it. I growled. There was nowhere to hide, no walls separating the ill or dark corners to lurk in, but the Ruptor didn’t want to hide here among the weak. I could see the reason Anastasius wanted me to be sequestered away from them . . . he knew my impulses resided just beneath the surface, begging for indulgence. Did he fear the Ruptor would feast on the weakness here?
I watched as the prince did his rounds, checking on the patients. The pregnant draconis with a missing arm had come, clearly worried about her unborn babe. The woman examined her slit, pressed her palms along the swollen belly, and kneaded her lower back before dismissing her. Anastasius had comforted her briefly before she took off to find her partner.
It was intriguing watching the prince work, flitting about from bed to bed, offering his assistance however they needed—a shoulder to cry or lean on, a hand to drink or eat from. He wafted around on an air of confidence, oblivious to my observance. It was beautiful, really, the tenderness with which he cared for the weak. This appreciation for such care felt foreign, but I didn't hate myself for it. It was surprisingly . . . right. I swallowed and took a step into the room, drawing the woman’s attention. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, making Anastasius follow her gaze.
“Eleos.” He beckoned me forward. I took a hesitant step forward. His expression was warm as he beamed. “We are expecting a fledgling.”
“That's wonderful.” I smiled. It wasn't a lie. A young woman was to give birth, which was cause for celebration even though the Ruptor recoiled at the weak breeding. I understood the sentiment. In the Circulus, the birth of a fledgling was always exciting. The strong cry of a babe was treasured as a sign of our clan’s renewed strength. As Ruptor, I was always expected to be in the birthing room to examine the babe for weakness. My presence was meant to comfort the parents, but it wasn’t until I assured them their young had the heart of a warrior that they breathed a sigh of relief. There had been few babes unworthy of starting a Circle, but whenever that occurred, it was devastating for everyone. The entire clan mourned the loss of the babe before I put it to rest, its Circle completed before it even began. Nobody had ever fought the tradition, but today, something in the Ruptor… shifted.
“When do you think the fledgling will be born?” I asked Anastasius later as we walked through the hallway toward the oasis alone at last. I didn't dare question why Calian wasn’t accompanying us. He grimaced.
There was a quarter of a moon turn until the next trial, and the castle was abuzz with excitement. Draconis scurried around with smiles and easy laughter. Some even danced or sang praises to their gods. I caught the lyrics of some tunes. They all referenced a Day of Life and Breath and thanked De Vita for their blessing. I was clear they were… happy. Unafraid. I envied their levity. “Thyia predicts the birth will happen soon. I will be expected to attend,” he said tentatively but continued walking away from where I suspected the babe would be born.
“Should you not stay with the mother?” Births happened quickly, usually taking no longer than a day. Often I missed the initial birth but arrived shortly after. He shrugged and gave me a smile over his shoulder.
“I can arrive in a blink of an eye. I’ll check on them. It’ll be fine,” he answered as we exited the castle. Anastasius pulled me by the wrist, leading me deep within the shade of the oasis’ cover. He called the trees palms, with their swollen peaks and streaky leaves. They were thick and tall with no branches to climb. Some dying leaves hung limply around the base with a head of dull greenery at the top.
We quietly walked along the edge of the water, the moist air soothing my dry throat. Occasionally, we came across creatures I didn’t recognize indulging in a drink from the oasis. Animals with long legs and bodies too big for their size. I doubted they could fly, even with their feathery wings. Other animals had sharp lumpy backs and slack jaws, their necks reminding me of the wild horses in the Neutral Strip. All sources of prey, even the predators with sharp teeth and low, slinking bodies were no match for us. The prince ignored them, striding onwards with confidence.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked after we reached the farthest point we had explored last time he had taken me into the oasis.
He looked back over his shoulder and gave me a mischievous smile. “To my hiding spot,” he answered. His eyes flicked upwards briefly before he frowned. He twisted his hands in a weird dance and blinked out of sight. One moment he was there, the next gone, like he hadn’t been there at all.
“Anastasius?” I called, looking around. The palms were thick, but with no lower branches I could still see fairly far. In the distance, the platform of the De Vita stronghold peaked above the treeline. In the direction we had been heading there was another pair of mesas that formed a narrow valley. “Anastasius?”
“Did you miss me?” Anastasius whispered into my ear from behind, making me jump. I hadn’t sensed his approach, hadn’t felt the air tingle with the weakness that I associated with him. Yet, as I turned, I saw that he had returned as surely as he had disappeared.
“Where…?” I couldn’t put my thoughts into words.
“I told you I would check in on them.” He shrugged.
“What is going on, Anastasius? How did you do . . . that?” I wasn’t even sure what that was.
He gave me another smile but didn’t answer as he kept walking toward the valley.
“You coming or not?” he asked when I didn’t immediately follow. I sighed. It was clear I wasn’t going to get any answers from him yet.
We traveled for hours, talking casually and just enjoying each other’s company. Every so often he would disappear, but never for long. One time he disappeared just as we approached a valley. The sheer slopes reminded me of the top of the De Vita castle. The drops were so fine, so smooth, unlike the ragged and brutal mountains within the Janardan’s Heart. The contrast was breathtaking. The way they reflected the light, creating an orange glow in the valley, looked like melted honey.
When he returned I was admiring the valley. He was silent, but I sensed him by the tang of weakness that surrounded him. “Where are you taking me?” I asked again without turning to look at him. He didn’t answer, instead grasping my wrist, and I almost jerked at the sudden touch. Slowly, I relaxed, letting him hold my arm..
“It’s a secret,” he damn near giggled. The sound made my heart skip a beat. Mirth lit his features. “But I’ll show you if you can catch me!” He lightly pushed me before launching into a run, cackles echoing throughout the valley.
“Anastasius!” I shouted after him, blinking at his fast-retreating form. His receding laughter was his only response. “By the gods,” I uttered, suppressing a smirk as I took off into a slow run.
I chased him for an hour. Two. Every once in a while he would slow, taunting me with his smiles and flirtatious words, before taking off again. I would lose sight of him among the curves and crevices in narrow parts of the valley. He was fast and knew the terrain better than I. He had the advantage and that was without the foreign power he harnessed that tore holes through reality and connected one place with another.
Eventually, he let me catch up to him deep within the valley. His eyes were still full of mischief and his smile was contagious. “Come, Selected.” He gently tugged my arm. “We are nearly there.” The sun was low in the sky as we made our way through a tight squeeze that forced us to walk single file. He led me by the arm into a hidden nook within the rock with a roof low enough that we needed to crouch at first before it opened up into a large cavern. The light was dim here and I could just make out Anastasius as he released me. My heart raced a little in that dark cave and I stood stark still, not wanting to show weakness by stumbling over myself. The prince shuffled around though with familiar ease, muttering to himself.
Suddenly, a burst of light filled the cavern, flames roaring from a pit of fire that the prince must have created. I blinked a few times, allowing my eyes to adjust to the light. It quickly became clear this was no ordinary cave. Similar to the De Vita stronghold, it was carved with architecture that did nothing but enhance its appearance. It looked like claw marks had been scrawled into the walls in the shape of draconis. Everywhere in the depictions draconis were fighting, fucking, and flying. Almost like they told a story. Except it was a tale for the eyes instead of the ears. I shivered despite the blaze.
“I have to go, but I’ll be back,” he announced once the fire settled. I nodded, biting back my disappointment at being left behind.
I lay back against the cave wall, watching the exploding sparks before they fell as I waited for him to reappear. The sun set, taking its warmth with it. The valley was cool, forcing me to huddle close to the fire for heat. A few times I was tempted to shift. In draconis form I would be much more comfortable, but I refrained, refusing to admit to any form of weakness. So, I shivered and ground my teeth against the cold.