Chapter 58
Chapter Fifty-Eight
BELLAMY
T he next morning came far too soon. The curtains remained closed, but slivers of sunlight escaped through the openings, slicing across the dark room.
Kairoth had woken me early in the morning, kissing my neck and my mouth, rousing me from my sleepy state. We made love, this time going slow, gentle, savoring every touch and caress.
Now we dressed in silence. I pulled on my trousers and shirt while Kairoth dressed in his dark pants and black tunic.
We stood at the end of the bed, facing each other.
“What now?” I signed.
Kairoth rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where Khalasa is. I don’t want to act rashly, but I’m afraid of what she can do when she’s at her full power.” He hesitated. “When I went away the past two times, it’s because I’ve been looking for someone.”
This was news. Kairoth hadn’t shared the details of what he’d been searching for, but I trusted that he’d tell me when he was ready to.
“Who have you been searching for?”
“I’ve been looking for him for years.” Kairoth strode over to his dresser, opening a drawer and pulling something out.
When he turned around, I could see that he was clutching a small leather-bound journal. He held it up. “This is his diary. He sent it to me over fifty years ago. It answered many questions I had about what happened after we’d been trapped.”
He held out the diary to me, and I took it. “This will tell you everything you need to know.”
“Who wrote this?”
Kairoth sighed. “The person who trapped us.”
Goosebumps skittered across my arms.
“The diary explains everything much better than I could,” Kairoth said. “I was so far removed from a lot of what happened. But he was in it. He knew the dangers of the gods, he suffered from their wrath. He was also my friend.”
I opened the diary to the first page, squinting at the loops and swirls of the language. It was written in the language of the Old World: Othala.
“I know you probably can’t read this, but I do have translations. The pixies have translated this in case something ever happened to me. So the world might know the truth about everything.”
I lifted a single hand. “I can read this. My father taught me.” I studied the words on the page, the years. This was written thousands of years ago. An ancient piece of history. It was surreal holding it in my hands. I frowned at the loops and swirls.
“What’s wrong?” Kairoth stepped closer, looking at the journal over my shoulder.
Again, I used one hand to sign: “This handwriting. It looks so familiar.”
“Hm,” Kairoth said. “That’s odd... unless... well, maybe you came across him in the Wilds?”
I reeled back. That made no sense. “How would that be?”
Kairoth’s gaze darkened. “He was immortal. Made immortal by Khalasa against his will.”
A shudder ran through me. How awful to be forced into immortality. I didn’t even realized the gods had that kind of power. I was discovering new things about them daily at this point.
“So he lived in the star court?” I asked, gazing roaming over the first page.
“I don’t know.” Kairoth shrugged. “Like I said, it took me a long, long time to finally find him. My shadows have been searching for him for years, even though I assumed he was dead by this point. I hoped he might be able to help me. He trapped us once, so maybe he could figure out what to do with the gods now. What to do in case they escaped like I did. What to do about Khalasa.”
“So did you find him?”
Kairoth opened his mouth, about to answer, when yells and screams broke out on the other side of the door.
“Sir, you cannot go in there!” Wesley’s voice rang out, followed by a strangled sound.
“Fuck.” Kairoth shoved a hand through his hair. “This wasn’t how I wanted you two to meet. I have to warn you, he’s not in his right mind. He’s skittish. Not the man I knew thousands of years ago.”
My heart sank. So he likely wouldn’t be able to help Kairoth. I didn’t even know this man, hadn’t read his journal yet, but I already felt sick over what happened to him. He’d lived for so very long, the only immortal in the world left after the gods had been trapped. He must’ve felt so lonely, so scared.
“Sir!” Wesley yelled. “You need to calm down!”
“Where am I?” the voice cried, and I stiffened.
“It’s okay.” Kairoth put a hand on my arm. “He won’t hurt you.”
I walked toward the doors. That voice sounded impossibly familiar. I knew that voice, but it couldn’t be...
The doors burst open. Wesley and Jerome held back a man as he struggled against them, kicking out, clawing at them.
“We tried,” Jerome said between heavy breaths. “But he’s very agitated.”
The room tilted under me, my ears ringing.
“Bellamy,” Kairoth said, his voice distant.
I stumbled back into his chest as spittle flew from the man’s mouth, his face purple with rage as he fought his way forward.
“I want to know where I am!” he cried.
“Bellamy,” Kairoth said, staring at me intently.
“That man,” I signed with trembling hands. “He’s my father.”
This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible. My father wasn’t immortal. He hadn’t been alive for thousands of years. I’d know something like that. He would’ve shared it with me and my brothers. He’d never keep such a big secret.
But even as I tried to convince myself of these things, a pit formed in my stomach at all the inconsistencies over the years. How my brothers and I had these strange powers that went beyond what star elementals should’ve been able to do. How my father’s entire family had been dead since he was a small boy. My brothers had always told me my father rarely talked about them, didn’t like to mention them. How he’d never talked about his childhood, said he liked fiction far better than the truth. How he somehow never aged. My brothers always joked my father looked the same as he had when they were younger, that he had the best genes and they hoped he’d passed those genes onto them.
I couldn’t breathe. I put a hand to my chest, the room spinning, everything growing blurry. Kairoth called my name. I blinked, trying to focus my vision.
“Bell?” That voice cut through everything, and my gaze sharpened on the man who spoke.
My father.
“You’re here,” I signed.
“Bell,” he said, his voice breaking, face crumpling.
Just like that, all my anger melted away.
I lurched forward as Jerome and Wesley finally let my father go. He opened his arms, and I fell into them. He’d always been so tall, towering over me and my brothers until Jorah eventually outgrew him, but now he seemed frail, shrunken down. His eyes were shrunk into their sockets, purple smudges under them. His black hair was wild and sticking in all directions. Stains and holes covered his clothes.
“Where are we?” my father asked.
I pushed away from him. “We’re safe.”
His brown eyes darkened. “Why can’t you speak?” His gaze snapped to Kairoth. “What have you done to her?”
I tapped his chest to get his attention. “Not his fault. Curse. Stepmother. I cannot speak until I break it.”
My father paled. “Yes, yes, of course.” He cupped my cheek. “You brave, brave girl. You always have been so determined. Led by the beat of your own drum. Where are your brothers?”
“Here,” I signed. “Safe for now.”
“Swans,” he murmured. “Beautiful creatures.” He grabbed his hair, pulling at it. “Such beautiful creatures.” He began sobbing and fell to his knees.
I shot a look at Kairoth. “What’s wrong with him?”
Kairoth stared at me with wide eyes that glowed red. His shadows hissed and shot out, then latched back onto him. He was staring at me like he’d never seen me before. “I think you need to read that journal, Bellamy. And then we need to talk.”