40. Elara
Chapter 40
Ihad never been so glad that I wore so many petticoats.
The Boy ripped off a wide strip of one with surprising ease, the fabric tearing with a sound that was so close to that of my mother’s laugh I flinched.
“What did she do?” I gasped through my sobs as the Boy rose with the long stretch of white fabric, his deft hands already wrapping it around the long cut.
Shaking his head in answer, he tied the fabric, the long strip already turning a deep shade of scarlet as my blood soaked it.
That wasn’t a good thing.
“Boy?” My voice shook, panic pulling at every part of my soul. Looking at him, at the dark expanse of him that was starting to smear against the white of my mother’s tent, I could have sworn I saw that panic stare right back.
He clicked his tongue over and over as he raced around my mother’s tent, opening drawers and satchels and anything he could find. Keeping my eyes open was becoming a chore as I watched him, the whole world swaying and dancing around me as everything grew colder, and colder.
I hadn’t been this cold since the day my Catalyst died. The day when everything changed.
So cold… there wasn’t any warmth left in the world, she had taken it all away. I needed to lay down on the carpet. I needed to sleep and find warmth.
The shadow of the Boy jumped, something in his hand as the world rose up to greet me. I fell into strong arms instead.
The familiar sounds of his clicks were right in my ear, everything still spinning as he lifted me, holding me right against him. Against that warmth of him. There was some heat left in the world, the last precious bit of it left in the entire Realm of Okivo. He was so warm I could feel it through the leathers. That smell, the smell that I always associated with my rooms, with home. The scent of wind, leaves, and lavender. It was everywhere on him.
As though he was the smell. As though he was home and not those stuffy rooms we were always locked in.
I leaned into it, only vaguely aware he was running. The air whipped against my cheeks, the cold of it should have been biting, but it almost felt warm against the cold that was everywhere.
“Boy?” I forced the word out through the biting, bleeding, cold that was everywhere. He clicked, the sound drowned out by the creak of the stairs and then the door to the carriage. Everything rocked as the door slammed shut, the padded cushion feeling far too soft, as though it was made of water and not a bit of stuffing and wool.
“What happened?” Someone hissed from the door. Aeinya. Her panic was everywhere, bleeding from her as it did from the Boy. As it did from my arm.
I wanted to tell her to go away, to leave before Dalyah saw. But she was in the carriage before I could even see straight enough to find words, the door slamming shut behind her.
“By the Goddess,” Aeinya hissed as the Boy's quickly wrapped bandage was removed, and I felt the tug of more of my skirts being ripped. “Who did this to you?”
“Dalll…” I could only press one sound out from the chatter in my teeth as Aeinya’s face swam into view, the fear and panic that echoed my own staring back.
“I know this doesn’t help, Elara. But I’ve seen worse. You need to sit up. You need to stay awake.” I mumbled as they both pushed me to sit, the Boys’ strong arms holding me there. “Do you have needle and thread?” Aeinya asked, her voice distant as everything drifted in and out of focus. He clicked, one hand still on me as he handed something over.
“Good. I’m going to stitch it up, but we need to stop the bleeding.” The Boy clicked at Aeinya’s request, his hands squeezing my shoulders before he dropped to his knees. More ripping, more mumbling and then a tight pressure at the top of my arm as something was tied there.
“Hold her still,” Aeinya whispered before the pinch of a needle against skin pricked its way up my arm. I expected pain, but everything was already in pain. This was another ache that was adding to the delirium of agony that was still making everything black.
“Stay awake, Elara,” Aeinya’s voice was so far away, everything was far away.
Then, with the sound of rustling fabric, his bare hands were on my face; warm, hot hands that sent tingles of light and stars over my skin. Even though all the warmth had been sucked from the world, he was still a sun.
My sun.
The world spun and shifted as I looked up into that black shroud, into the face of the Boy whose hands were so hot against my skin, the warmth pulling me from the cold as though it was a magnet. I couldn’t see him, but it didn’t matter, I knew him. I knew exactly what he looked like.
I knew him without seeing.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered through the sobs as my skin pricked and pulled, Aeinya’s quick stitches moving from my wrist to the crook of my elbow. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, hood and shroud shaking as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine, the fabric still between us, still keeping him away from me.
He clicked twice, his hands warm against my cheeks, his thumbs moving softly against my skin. He didn’t move away, even as Aeinya tied the knot at the end stitch, the sound of more of my petticoats being torn echoing as she again wrapped my arm.
“That should stop it,” she whispered, but he still didn’t move. “Boy, you do know how to dress a wound, yes?”
He clicked once as yelling began echoing into our carriage. Only then did he pull away, turning toward the carriages and the voices as the flood of heat left. At least it had chased away much of the cold, if only for a moment. He nodded in answer as Aeinya’s name was yelled through the camp.
“That means yes,” I whispered, and she sighed, the yelling growing louder even as the world continued to spin.
“Good. I have to go…”
“I’ll be fine.” The words burned in my throat from screaming. I looked to Aeinya’s deep brown eyes, the wide expanse full of more questions than I had answers for. It wasn’t just that, though. She looked as though she knew everything. As though she always had.
“Later,” I whispered, that one word a scratch of a sound, she nodded before darting out of the wagon and into the cold winter air, into the pilgrimage that was already set to begin.
I couldn't even move, I lay there against the cushions, the smell of blood everywhere. My blood was everywhere.
It covered the front of my fancy dress, it streaked down the soft fur lining of my cloak, soaked into the cushions of the carriage and dripped between the floorboards. Everything continued to spin as I looked up to the Boy, his tall frame still leaning over me.
“It’s never going to stop.” I had meant to say more, but the words got lost in the haze, in the burn in my throat. I lay there, sagging against the seat as my arm heated and burned in both pain and fire.
Those same warm hands pressed against the bandages on my arm, the bandages that thankfully weren’t red, even if they did ache and throb. He held them there for a moment, that heat radiating over me before his hands shifted to my checks again. His warm hands were made of starlight as they pressed against me, as he leaned closer.
His breath was hot as it drifted through the shroud and over my face. Again, I tried to see through the fabric, to see him. But there was nothing there, just the shadow of a man that I trusted beyond anything. A man I loved.
I loved.
The thought pushed itself forward as his thumbs moved over my skin, his breath warm. I opened my mouth to say something, to tell him. I wasn’t sure what I would say. Before I could make any words come, he stepped back, his hands falling from me and breaking whatever spell I was under.
He clicked once, gesturing to the padded seat as he replaced his gloves and sat down opposite me.
‘Rest.’
I wanted to fight him, to find the words to tell him, but everything was too fuzzy, too hazy. I had simply lost too much blood. I hadn’t even laid down all the way before I had fallen asleep.
—
Batian didn’t return to our carriage. Not that day, and not the two days following.
I didn’t even see Aeinya again. The Queen’s message had been delivered loud and clear.
The Boy and I were brought bread and cheese twice a day, and left to relieve ourselves when the guards opened the doors, although they never left our sides. They were always there, dressed in indigo and gold as though they belonged to the Ramal’s army, but I recognized their faces. They were all those snakes, their eyes narrowed and leering. The worst was Silas, licked his lips as I was forced to lift my skirts to find relief, whose eyes never left mine in preparation to strike.
They didn’t need to strike one who was already bitten.
Twice a day we would rip more of my petticoats, wrapping the fabric around the wound that while hastily stitched was healing faster than it should. Perhaps it was the way the Boy would massage and hold the skin around the gash every time he changed the bandage, his bare hands unusually warm. Or perhaps it was because I still spent most of my days sleeping, the world slowly losing its rotating haze as I continued to shiver against the cold that would not relent. Whatever it may be, a few days later the open line of flesh had fused in an angry purple line.
It still throbbed, the pain lessening as the world drifted by through the window that I spent most of my time staring through. At each town we passed people rushed out with flags of purple and gold to greet the royal family and the future Queen. It was only then that I saw Batian, his golden cape gleaming atop a white horse as he flicked his hand in a glowing hello, his magic on display. I spent the days peering out the window, shivering at any gust of wind that found its way in the carriage; the nights I spent shivering against the seat of the carriage; the temperature growing colder as winter grew closer.
Other than that, we were alone. Silence stretched in the brief moments I was awake, nothing but the sound of horses and tack echoing through the carriage.
The Boy didn’t say a word.
He sat, his shroud facing the opposite side of the carriage as we bounced along in this prison, the walls only a smaller version than the one we had come from.
“Will you agree to run with me now?” I asked as we left yet another village, my body not feeling so heavy and sluggish anymore, even though I still shivered. I turned to the Boy who continued to stare straight ahead.
He didn’t even click.
“She’s going to keep doing this.” Even lifting my arm as a reminder sent a stinging pain up to my shoulder and I winced, clutching it to my chest. Still, no movement, no click. He had been silent for days, but I had mostly been sleeping, too tired to notice the change.
Too scared to accept what I already knew was happening.
“Why won’t you talk to me? Or click or…” I waved my arms around as my panic grew, my pain singing through the slice in my arm. You think I would have learned from the first time, but no. I needed to find a way to talk to him.
Wincing, I held it against me. That time he turned. Screwing my face up, I pushed any tears away and watched the white cloth to make sure no spots of red appeared.
It was just a stretch of white fabric, and the black gloves there were cradling it from below, tenderly, and clearly worried. He knelt on the floor of the carriage as it rocked and bounced us toward the Temple of the Sister, his hands soft as he held my arm.
His thumbs moved over the side of my arms, the creaking of carriages echoing everywhere even as I swore it all fell away, leaving the two of us alone in the world. My skin rippled as though it was vibrating, something charging through it from whatever was thrumming between us.
For the first time in days I swore I could feel that vibrating heat that had become so familiar after my magic was awakened. One moment it was there, the next it was gone, leaving me with a hollowness that consumed everything.
“Say something,” I whispered, leaning into him. He lowered his head, his face hovering above the bandage before rising again. I saw nothing, but I swear I could see the sadness, I could taste it in the air. He was crying. Then I knew.
“You won’t. Not anymore. She did this because you spoke to me.” He nodded in response, the solitary bob sending a boulder into my gut.
“You’ll never speak again. To protect me.” Another nod. That boulder began feeling like a hot coal against my heart.
The strangled sounds of his breathing was the only sound in the carriage as he lowered his face to my arm, the soft pressure of his lips against the bandage searing through me.
“It’s okay,” I breathed, my other hand soft as I put it on his shoulder. “We have other ways to talk, and I can learn the hand signs. We won’t be alone.”
He exhaled against my arm, knowing it was enough, yet not enough at the same time.
“It’s never going to stop,” I repeated in a whisper, fighting my own tears now as he stood, his hands lingering before he returned to his seat. He didn’t nod, didn’t click. He remained sitting forward, that shroud as unmoving as he was. Almost as though he was looking past me.
Almost as though he didn’t see me.
Dalyah knew he spoke, she knew about my magic, about Aeinya… there was a high chance that she knew about my plan to escape. That I wanted him to go with me.
If she knew that, then she would be ready. There was no way she was letting us leave. There was no way I would have a life other than the one she trapped me in.
Leaning back against the seat, I stared out the window, letting the tears roll down my cheeks as the reality of what had happened hit me.
We were together, but somehow alone.
We were both truly prisoners now.
He had said he would fight. But how do you fight against a monster?
How do you slay a beast?
With magic you can’t control? With magic that was nothing more than a shadow?
It didn’t matter. I would find a way. I had to.
I sat back against the seat, letting the shadow of starlight rumble over my skin as I played with the bracelet on my wrist, the soft strands of hair sending only whispers of magic though me as the carriage bumped over the uneven road. It was as though all that was left were the memories of it. Just as it had been for so many years.
I watched the trees fade to black, watched the line of peasants and wagons in the distance as a long caravan of people in the distance making their own pilgrimage to the temple traveled closer. Something soft and warm lodged itself in my heart as I watched the world that was so different from what I had been led to believe.
I couldn’t help but feel as though something out there was waiting for me.
As though this wasn’t the end.