Chapter 28
Sage
S omeone was screaming.
The sound was so chilling it was like winter had plunged her hands beneath my skin and frozen my muscles stiff. Yet somehow, I was slick with sweat. The strange combination of cold and hot made me feel sickly.
I jerked upright. My mouth snapped shut, and the terrible sound stopped.
My hand flew to my lips, covering them—
I was the source of that horrible sound.
That desperate scream for the pain to stop, for the cutting and the slicing to end, but my words were never heard.
Through all of it, Victor had used his dark alchemy to keep me conscious.
He said having someone to talk to helped pass the time, even though the only sounds that came out of me were desperate pleas and endless sobbing.
In the beginning, at the end of the day, when he was done working on me, he would leave me on the cold slab, blow out the candles, and leave me in the dark with his imprisoned, howling animals.
All of that changed the day I tried to stab him with one of his torturous tools.
After that, he would shove me into the cages, locking me in for the night.
By the time he was finished, a part of me had died inside.
Despite his drastic change in appearance over the years, I had no doubt the Victor from my past was the same Victor who worked alongside the empress now. If there was one thing I knew it was that he was a ruthless monster. There was not an ounce of humanity to be found within him.
“Sage?” a frantic Artemesia asked as she rushed in through the tent’s flaps, her expression full of concern. “I was down the river, but when word reached me that there were screams coming from your tent, I dropped what I was doing and raced back here. What has happened?”
“Just . . . the past catching up with me,” I replied, weaving my fingers into my hair, pushing it back from my forehead.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She sat on the side of the bed.
“I’d rather not.” I forced a deep exhale and slipped my hand through the rest of my hair. “I’m sorry to have frightened you.”
“I’m just happy you are alright.” She gave a soft smile.
Eager to leave the nightmare behind and think about something else, I changed the topic. “What were you doing down the river?”
“Fishing. ”
“Did you catch anything?”
She shook her head. “Nothing worth keeping. I swear, the fish get smaller every year.”
A memory returned to me, of us as young girls, fishing with our father. She’d said that same thing back then, too. “You’ve been claiming that since we were little,” I teased.
“To which Father would always say—” She propped her fists against her hips, broadening her shoulders, and tipped her chin up ever so slightly, trying to channel our father. “That’s because you are getting bigger,” she said, imitating his voice.
I chuckled. “That’s right. I remember him saying that.”
She grinned. “Are you hungry?” She thumbed over her shoulder. “We can go get something to eat—it’s a bit past noon, but that won’t matter. Millie always has something yummy cooking.”
“I didn’t realize it was so late in the day,” I said, peeling the covers off my legs so I could change my clothes. “But yes, food sounds good to me.”
My stomach rumbled in agreement.
Shortly after, Artemesia and I were standing inside of a tent that smelled absolutely divine.
Baking bread, roasting meat, various herbs and spices—instantly, my mouth began to water.
Placed in three neat rows were long stretches of wooden tables, flanked by benches made from split logs.
To my right, in the corner, was a large hearth crafted from stone.
Flames licked at the bottom of a bubbling, steaming pot.
To the side, a giant, mouthwatering slab of seasoned meat was being spit-roasted—a middle-aged man working the crank.
A woman with rosy cheeks and bright-blue eyes walked over to us. “Good day, chieftain.” She looked at me, her smile growing even bigger. “And you must be Sage.”
“I am,” I returned with a smile. “You must be Millie?”
“Indeed, indeed,” she spoke with a great amount of glee. “Come, have a seat.” She gestured to one of the benches. “You must be hungry.”
“Knowing my sister, I can almost guarantee that,” Artemesia replied with a chuckle.
Following Millie’s instructions, we sat down.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” she said warmly before she hurried back to the bubbling pot.
“She’s so sweet,” I whisper-spoke to Artemesia, who sat across the table from me.
“She really is,” she agreed. “One of the kindest souls I’ve ever met.”
We chatted for a short while, before Millie returned with two steaming bowls, which she set in front of us. “Some nice deer stew for you two. Fresh from the pot.”
We gave our thanks and then we dug in, reminiscing as we ate. Somewhere between my sister’s laughter and the good, hearty food, I could feel the icy grasp of the chilling memory I’d recovered beginning to melt away.
After we finished eating, the plates were cleared, and we had profusely thanked Millie, Artemesia slung her arm over the back of her chair and looked at me. “Sooo,” she started, dragging out the word. “Do you want to tell me what you’ve been up to all of these centuries?”
“That’s a loaded question,” I answered honestly.
She smiled. “We have nothing but time.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Then, I told her all of it. Every little detail.
Sometimes in order, sometimes not. I cried at some parts, laughed at others, but throughout it all, I longed for Von.
He was stitched into every inch of my story.
His name was carved upon my soul, in my bones.
He was my other half, and I was incomplete without him.
When I got to the part about the child we lost, Artemesia reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
With misty eyes, she said, “I do not know what it is like to lose a child, but I do know a little about loss. I know that when we love someone, we cut a piece of our heart out and give it to them. So, when they die, in some ways, we do too. But the thing is, we carry a piece of them with us, and so, in their honor, we must do the impossible without them—we must live.”
Pressure built between my eyebrows, and my eyes blurred with tears.
They brimmed on my lower lash line, then spilled over, trickling down my cheeks.
My voice crackled with emotion as I choked out, “That is beautiful.” Finding it hard to speak, I pressed my lips together, trying not to give in to the weight of sadness I felt welling within me.
My gaze fell, and I shook my head. “I just wish I would have gotten the chance to know them.”
Softly, she squeezed my hand. “Who knows what comes after this realm. Maybe someday, you will.”