104. Rorax
“Nope. Not tonight, Rorax.” Piers plucked the empty bottle out of Rorax’s hands just as she turned to smash it against the wall.
She didn’t mind. Piers had been babysitting her ever since she had stumbled, already drunk, from her room for the Final Three Ball. She was on the balcony of the Contestar courtyard, having convinced Piers she needed some air.
There were only three Contestars left. Stella and Briar had both been cut down by the felidra today. She had no idea what the castle could possibly be celebrating when inside she felt so dead and lifeless.
Rorax swayed on her feet, swallowing the last contents of her glass down before she pulled on the string in her mind that called her fire, and a little flame lit at the end of her pointer finger.
“Fire. I can fiiiinally do it, Piers.”
Piers grimaced but nodded. “Very good, Ror.”
Piers and Cannon were waiting for them at the castle when they arrived. Ayres had stopped for an extra day to run an errand, probably to take care of one of his princely duties. Rorax was excited for Ayres to be back, she was so excited to show him what she could do.
As soon as the thought came, she clenched her teeth against it. That was at least the tenth time tonight that she had thought of him. He’d only been gone for a few days, and there was an ache in her heart that just wouldn’t leave her alone. Even though Rorax had finallymanifested her magick today, she felt even shittier than before. She hadn’t even known that was possible.
Jia and Kiniera had gone to bed a long time ago, both needing rest after all the magick they’d used today.
“Rorax, come on. We have to go back to the Great Hall. The Guardian’s about to give a speech.”
She let Piers guide her down the empty corridor. Rorax had long ago shed the heels she’d worn to the party, but even barefoot she still staggered back to the Great Hall.
Milla was standing outside the doors, tapping her foot, and visibly relaxed when she saw Rorax.
“She’s about to start,” Milla said, opening the door to the front of the room where the Guardian stood in front of her throne. There was a gleam in the Guardian’s eyes that Rorax had never seen before, and even inebriated the cold glitter made her hackles rise.
“Thank you all for coming tonight.” The Guardian smiled, a full and slightly threatening display of her teeth. “Tonight, we celebrate. We celebrate the fact that we are finally down to our final three Contestars.”
Rorax felt eyes on her as there was a murmur around the room and a small, polite clap.
When the clapping died down, the Guardian continued. “But tonight, I also wanted to spend this time remembering the sacrifices and the glorious things that Ihave done in my eight-hundred-year reign as Guardian of the North.”
Piers and Milla shared a look, and the murmur around the room grew louder.
The Guardian looked around the room with an arrogant, wicked smile on her lips. “I have defended this country, defended the magick in the Realms, and defended its people. I have fought and bled and loved for the Realms, for every single one of you. I have sacrificed everything. Now it is time to repay that favor. Kneel, all of you.”
There was a confused murmur from the crowd. Never had a Guardian asked them to kneel before. Kings rarely even asked that from their subjects.
“Kneel. Now,” the Guardian hissed to the room, the temperature plummeting as ice magick kissed Rorax’s skin. Slowly, people around the room start to kneel. Milla and Piers shared a concerned glance before slowly sinking to a knee.
Rorax was about to bend her knee with the rest of the crowd when something silver caught her eye. Tressa, in a silver dress, was bowing to her knee but staring with defiant daggers in her eyes in the Guardian’s direction. A few rows behind Tressa, Isgra, and Enna kneeled as well.
Briar and Stella should have been here tonight to celebrate. Mo and Mairi and Roo and Serena, all twelve of the Contestars should be here to celebrate.
Suddenly her knees felt stiff and brittle, as if they would snap if she tried to bend them. Milla tried to grab Rorax’s wrist to tug her down, but Rorax jerked her arm free and drunkenly stumbled forward towards the Guardian.
“Rorax!” Piers hissed, but Rorax staggered forward on unsteady feet.
A hand clamped down on her wrist, but Rorax yanked herself free. “No.”
“Let her go, Prince,” the Guardian said, eyeing Rorax with hunger. “I want to know what the Spine Cleaver has to say.”
The Guardian watched her, and Rorax felt her own foreign power roil under her skin in response before she could repress it. She shivered but took another step forward. “I will never bend a knee to you.”
Whatever the Guardian had been expecting Rorax to say, this wasn’t it.
The Guardian’s chin jerked back fractionally. “What did you say?”
“Why should we bow to you? You didn’t find a way to free us,” Rorax hissed. “So, I will not. I will not bow to a woman who has sentenced eleven innocent girls to death because she wouldn’t spend the time to find a way to undo the magick that binds us here. I will not bow to a Guardian who released her magick in the middle of a potential war and refused to go to the front lines to defend the Realms. I refuse.” Rorax hissed between her teeth, slicing her hand through the air.
The Guardian’s eyes were a vision of pure and lethal hatred, and her chin lifted a fraction. Power started to vibrate the very air around Rorax. “That is rich coming from a Heilstorm, who has sat idly by to watch hundreds die.”
“Sat idly by?” Rorax laughed bitterly. “I did my job. You are the Northern Guardian! It’s your job—” she jabbed a finger into the Guardian’s chest “—your duty, to protect the people. To protect all the people who live in this world. You not only failed the Realms, but everyone, and you continue to fail us through your inaction,” Rorax seethed. “Lyondrea is starting a war because you couldn’t be bothered by them.”
There were loud gasps from the crowd. Everyone in the hall stayed low to the floor, kneeling, but in a quick glance over her shoulder, Rorax saw Milla and Piers looking up at her in utter shock.
A flicker of surprise danced across the Guardian’s gaze. “You dare to speak to me thus?” Her voice was a promise. A promise of violence and bloodshed. A promise of Rorax’s death if she continued down her path.
Rorax didn’t care. She had found a worthy outlet to project her own burning self-hatred, and she was going to use it.
“I refuse to kneel in the dirt for a Guardian who has left this shit for us.” Rorax had to grit her teeth to refrain from spitting at the Guardian.
The Guardian cocked her head and her pale yellow eyes traced over Rorax slowly. “You will lose everything if you do not gain restraint and direction, Greywood.”
“Your Guardianship, I have nothing left to lose.” Rorax snorted harshly, opening her arms welcomingly. There was no way she could touch Darras in Lyondrea, and Jia could handle herself.
The Guardian’s thin mouth turned up a bit at the corners, her head remained cocked as she studied her again.
“Not even Jia?” she asked softly, with feigned concern. “Not even the precious House of Death Protectorates?” Her eyes flashed.
“You wouldn’t hurt them to get to me.”
The Guardian made three tsking noises with her tongue before she started to circle around Rorax like a shark. She stopped right before Rorax, her eyes flashing, her posture straight and queenly. Even in her withered and slightly broken state she still towered over Rorax, but Rorax held her chin high and did not back away.
What’s your name?
Rorax Greywood.
What does that mean?
It means fear has no room here. No space to grow into the cracks and splinters of your heart.
The Guardian reached to cup Rorax’s chin and her sharp fingernails bit down into Rorax”s skin. She squeezed so hard Rorax felt her skin split underneath her nails. She did her best not to flinch or yelp as her blood stained the Guardian’s fingers. Rorax kept the Guardian’s gaze, but tears from the pain started to well even without her permission.
“You often seem to forget, Rorax Greywood, who you stand before. What I am capable of. How far the reaches of my power can go. You have but a mere fraction of it.” The Guardian’s eyes glinted in pleasure as she watched Rorax’s blood drip down her hand, but her voice did not change from the even, peaceful, lethal tone.
Rorax narrowed her eyes slightly, and finally lost the fight to her tears as they slowly slipped down her cheeks.
“Your friends are alive, but they will not remain so if you continue to be so wild and unyielding. I respect your courage and your bravery, but your blatant disrespect and disregard will get you nowhere.” The Guardian squeezed Rorax’s chin even tighter, her icy nails penetrating deeper into her skin. Rorax felt them connect with her bone and she couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped from her lips. Blood and tears now flowed down her face, down her neck, and into the fabric of her white dress, staining the front crimson. The Guardian pulled Rorax’s head closer to her, aggravating Rorax’s cuts and scraping along her jawbone. She swallowed back the bile crawling up her throat, effectively cutting off any screams.
“I would kill you,” the Guardian murmured into her ear softly, eerily maternal. “But unfortunately, the Guardian is strictly prohibited by the magick to kill any member from the Choosing. I would die, too. And the Death Harbinger seems to have favorited you. But that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you and those you love. Make smarter decisions, Greywood.”
The Guardian jerked her head away from Rorax, her yellow eyes glinting in dark pleasure.
“BLACK SALT!” The Guardian barked out over her shoulder at her guards.
There was a murmuring in the crowd and a guard scrambled out of the hall, returning with a small bowl of black granules. Rorax’s breath hitched as the Guardian raised her free hand and gazed lovingly at the ice nails protruding from the tips of her fingers of the hand that wasn”t holding Rorax captive. They elongated from short, sharp claws to lethal blades, each six inches long.
The Guardian made a show of licking the side of the ice blades emerging from the tips of her fingers before dipping it into the black salt granules. Rorax tried to jerk her head back, and out of the Guardian’s grip, but she was in too deep and the only thing Rorax accomplished was a deeper, tighter hold into her flesh.
Tense energy and murmurs filled the room as the crowd watched the Guardian, uncertain of what to do.
“If you apologize, Greywood, and fall to your knees begging for my mercy, I will grant you a reprieve,” the Guardian lovingly purred.
Rorax snarled through her tears, and on complete impulse, Rorax jerked her head back and head butted the Guardian as hard as she could.
The Guardian”s nose gave a sickening crunch, and immediately blood started to spurt out of her nostrils. She spluttered, and hot blood that was not her own splattered across Rorax’s face.
The Guardian jerked her head away but instead of being angry, a soft, loving look passed over the Guardian’s face as she took in her shards that were still embedded deeply into Rorax’s jawbone.
“That was a mistake, Pup.” The Guardian’s sinister grin sent another shiver of fear shooting violently down Rorax’s spine, and she didn’t even have the chance to scream before the Guardian started to swing.
Rorax’s eyes peeled open through the dried tears, but she couldn’t see anything in the darkness. She didn’t need to see the blood that coated her skin to know it was there. She could smell it, the smell of rust and iron clogging her nose. She could feel it, too; there was sticky sheen of it on her skin.
Rorax gritted her teeth against a roll of nausea and did her best to take a deep breath through her nose.
She cried out as her back gave a sharp, painful throb in response to her movements. She raised her palms to push herself up, but wherever she was, it was too smooth and slippery for her wet fingers to grip. As she tried to lift her torso, her palms slipped out from under her, and her face smacked hard against the cool, smooth surface.
She let out a moan of pain at the impact on her cheek and went limp again as she closed her eyes, resigned to her fate.
A door somewhere opened, and there was a feminine gasp. Rorax tried to open her eyes again, and this time there was enough light that she could see the smooth, white surface of a tub.
“Ror . . . are you okay?”
Her body had been dumped into a tub and she was sleeping face down with her cheek pressed to the slick, ceramic surface. At least it was cool against her burning cheek.
“Rorax?”
Her eyes flicked up.
Striding in from the open doorway was Milla. Next to her were Piers and Jia. All three of them gaped at her with wide, frightened eyes.
Rorax tried to nod her head, but the muscles at the top of her back screamed.
She sucked in a breath and tried to push herself up again. Her elbows shook violently underneath her weight and her head started to spin so fast she had to lower herself back down.
“Milla, can . . .” She swallowed painfully against her dry throat as tears started to track down her nose and onto the surface of the tub beneath her. “Can you help me get out of the tub please?” Her voice was pitiful—small and demoralized—and she hated it.
Milla pushed a lock of red hair behind her ear and rushed to the left side of the bathtub. “Of course, of course. Piers, will you grab her right side?”
Piers nodded, and silently moved to the side of the tub, ready to help Milla tug her out.
“Don’t touch her. I’ve got her.”
Rorax’s whole body froze in recognition before collapsing again, her limbs weak from the sheer relief.
Ayres.
Ayres was back, and he was here in this bloody room. With her.
A sob broke through her lips, making her body sing in agony. She looked up into his face, trying furiously to blink the tears away. “Ayres.”
Jia, Milla, and Piers took a fast step back so that Ayres could squat down next to her. “Gods above, Ror.” He pushed a strand of hair matted with blood behind her ear. “It’s even worse than I expected.”
Comfort, clear and calming ran like a balm over her frayed nerves at the sound of his voice. It made more tears trail down her face, but this time was different. These were tears of relief, not pain or fear. It was going to be okay. She was going to be okay. Ayres had come back.
Another relieved sob bubbled out of her lips.
“Ror, I am going to have to jostle you, and I might have to place my arms across the cuts on your lower back. It’s going to hurt, but I will do my very best not to aggravate the skin. Okay, Little Crow?” He moved his hand from her ear to cup the back of her head.
Rorax saw Jia and Piers look at each other from the corner of her eye but she didn’t look away from Ayres’s charcoal and silver eyes as she nodded.
“You’re not going to attack me?” he asked, smiling tightly as he edged closer.
Rorax laughed softly, wiping away a single tear from her good cheek. “No, I promise. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
Ayres nodded and ever so gently he lifted and folded her into his arms. One arm carefully lodged under her lower back by her shoulder blades, the other under her knees.
She had to bite her lip so she wouldn”t scream as sharp, agonizing pain erupted from her cuts. Ayres shifted her body, so she was clinging to him monkey style, her core pressed against his abs, her ankles crossed behind his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his skin on her good cheek—letting tears flow freely down her face.
Ayres turned to Milla, Piers, and Jia with Rorax in his arms. “I’m taking her upstairs into the prince’s quarters. The bathtub is bigger so we can fit in another body in there with her to wash the wounds. We can’t leave her here like this. She can’t defend herself and would be easy picking for Isgra and her hoard if they come looking to increase their odds in the Choosing. I’ll spend the night with her tonight to make sure nothing happens.”
“She can sleep in my bed when she’s done with her bath,” Piers offered. “The bed is only a few steps away. I can sleep here in her room.”
Ayres shook his head, his whiskered face catching the few strands of her hair that weren’t matted in blood. “People will be looking for her while she’s down. Find somewhere else. Sleep on Milla’s floor, with Lamonte, or in my quarters.”
“Tough choice, Piers,” Rorax muttered against Ayres’s neck, barely coherent in his arms.
Rorax smiled to herself against Ayres’s neck as Milla informed Piers there was no chance in hell he could sleep in her room.
Rorax’s vision started to darken and she closed her eyes against it.
Ayres gently shook her. “Rorax. Rorax stay awake for me, baby.”
She tried to respond, to make a sound, but the blackness was getting stronger. She needed to sleep . . .
“Go get Tressa,” Ayres ordered one of them. “She is still losing too much blood.”
Rorax didn’t remember anything else until Ayres set her down into the prince’s bathtub.
She caught sight of a dark, feminine hand pushing Rorax’s bloody hair away from her face. A soft voice was saying her name, asking her questions, but Rorax couldn’t hear her, like her ears were under water.
The voice climbed into the tub and settled behind her; the hand gently pushed away some bloody hair again.
Someone began cutting away what was left of Rorax’s dress, carefully patting away the blood. Rorax could feel magick attempting to heal the angry cuts.
Rorax’s skin had looked like filet mignon before Tressa started healing it. From the side of her breast and over her back to the other breast was completely shredded. All the way down her back from armpit to hip. Muscles, tendons, nerves—anything that was there was severed or sliced.
Rorax could feel everything begin to knit back together. Everything would eventually heal, except her skin. It would scar from the black salt. The vertical and horizontal cuts made her flesh look like a one-colored checkerboard.
Tressa managed to cover the biggest gashes with a thin, hot, angry layer of skin.
“I’m sorry, Rorax. Your tattoo . . . it’s ruined. All my healers left the castle two days ago. I’m the only one here, and that’s all I have to give you.”
Rorax opened her eyes and turned to look at her, her back muscles screaming at the effort. “Thank you. I am so lucky and blessed that you were willing to come to my aid, Tressa. I am grateful.”
Tressa just blinked at Rorax and left to find her a shirt and some bandages to cover the smaller cuts she hadn’t been able to get to. Rorax collapsed against the side of the tub until Tressa returned.
Ayres entered once Rorax was ready to be moved. Rorax’s head rolled over his shoulder and pressed into his neck as he picked her up and rested her in the gigantic bed.
“Thank you,” Rorax mumbled. He might have responded, but as soon as he pulled the covers over her, she was asleep.