Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty Two
Amareshi swam before me, a bottle of liquor swinging from my hand with each street I walked.
It was a beautiful city, so full of life and wonder.
My teeth tore at the spiced beef my mother had spoken of with such tantalizing words, the taste rich and flavorful.
It mixed heavily with the grief that lay within my belly.
Kairen and the others had been on the other side of the door, questions and demands awaiting when I had exited, but my steps had not stilled. I had pushed past the Solerian Prince to escape the truths that burned like a hot branding upon my soul. A rebel? A traitor? Was there any truth to it?
My memories and new realities were like a tangling of thread within my mind. My mother. A woman who had been gentle and graceful in all she did, truth. A woman who did not bend, did not break. A truth.
And now? Also a woman who had been enslaved to a man with vicious eyes and opium upon his breath, truth.
A dancer who had escaped across the desert from dangers I would never know, only to end up tied to a stake in the end.
Another truth. A damning truth that festered and flamed the raging fire that always seemed to burn within me.
A rage that was ever present because how could life be so utterly unfair?
I brought the bottle to my lips once more, my steps leading down a dark alleyway, the empty skewer tossed to the street. Voices laughed somewhere in the darkness, two forms dimly lit in the light of the moon.
The smell of herbs wafted to my nose from the rolled parchment they smoked as I passed. My feet stumbled, body falling into the back of the man I passed.
He turned, his hand shoving me down the alleyway. “Watch it, drunkard.”
My lips curved, hand tightening around the bottle. Oh how the Goddesses blessings manifest in such mysterious ways. I turned just as his attention went back to the man he spoke with, the bottle I held flinging end over end until it shattered against his head. He dropped to the sand below.
Rage burned sharp and bright in my chest, the man’s friend uttering a curse as he stepped towards me, a blade being drawn at his side.
The shadows hummed beneath my skin, sharpening the haze of the drink I had nursed now for hours.
Energy tingled its way across my fingertips, buzzing beneath my skin.
A fight is exactly what I needed, what I craved.
The blade arced beautifully through the night, slashing as the moonlight reflected off its sharpened edges.
I moved, too slow, and it skimmed my bicep, tearing through the fabric of my dirtied linen shirt. Once white, now browned and torn.
The sting of pain was delicious as he pulled back, another strike. My hand shot for his wrist at the same moment, twisting and twisting until the blade dropped to the ground below. My kick sent it skittering across the sand, down the alleyway and lost to the darkness.
“There,” I crooned, my fists rising. “Now we can do this fairly.”
His next hit was a song of pain ricocheting through my skull, the taste of iron in my mouth as I returned the favor. A laugh spilled from my lips as he shoved me against the stone building, the ache of my back and bones sharp as my sore skin scraped and tore.
“Are you insane?” He hissed, eyes wild as blood dripped from his nose.
I smiled. “I’m starting to think so.”
He reared back when I spit, my blood staining rivers of red down his face. The slap that came after was sharp and relentless in its stinging.
Head ramming forward, the sound of cartilage crunching and his yell were a symphony fueling the adrenaline that pumped through my veins as he stumbled back.
Stars spotted my vision, my own feet stumbling as I reached out, snagging his shirt. My fingers curled around the fabric, clawing and grappling for purchase.
My breath came out in whoosh when something connected with my back, my inhale sharp and burning. The pain so blinding the world went white for moments, my scream distant and piercing all at once.
I turned just as a plank of wood was swinging for my skull and I dropped. It exploded into shards of splinters as it connected with the stone wall of the alleyway.
“You woke rather quickly,” my grumble slurred, agony lacing the words as I stood and stretched an arm out.
A few ribs were definitely broken, but the pain didn’t stop me from raising my fists again.
I welcomed it, welcomed the distraction of focusing on that sharp burn rather than the one deep in my chest. The two men stared back, unease in their eyes.
“Surely you're not scared, two big strong men such as yourselves against only me?”
The smell of rain and cedar invaded my senses before a voice, low and wicked, sounded from behind. “Causing trouble again, little menace?”
I turned, stomach rolling when he stepped from the shadows. He was angry, it was clear in the taut lines of his face as his eyes roamed over the bruises and blood I was sure were scattered across my face. His gaze held mine when he spoke again. “Leave.”
I heard the curse, the shuffling of feet as the two men scrambled out of the dark alleyway, my stomach tightening as he stepped closer. A new kind of distraction stealing my attention, my focus from those thoughts that tried to claw their way from the recesses of my mind.
A finger brushed a strand of hair from my face, tender and delicate. “You reek of alcohol.”
My throat bobbed, a shoulder lifting. “I was thirsty.”
“Why do you drink so much?”
My lips flattened, head pulling back from his touch. “It quiets the thoughts I don’t wish to think.”
A truth. He deserved a truth.
He stepped closer again until my back was pressed against the stone. He didn’t reach for me again, his hand instead coming to rest by my head, caging me in. “If a distraction is what you need, little menace, I can think of plenty that don’t involve getting drunk and picking fights.”
Fire licked up my spine, slow and steady, but it wasn’t the burn of rage or sharpness of physical pain.
No, this fire was a delicious warmth that spread from deep in my abdomen, one that had my fingers twitching to reach out for him, to pull him closer.
It had my breaths coming shorter as it coiled within me, had my heart stuttering when his eyes dropped to my mouth.
My body was still as the stone at my back when he brushed his thumb along my lips, the touch stinging yet soft all at once. When he pulled back his pale skin was stained crimson, his eyes darkening.
“We should get you back, sober up and let Rena heal you.”
“I don’t want to be healed.”
His head tilted, eyes searching mine. “What happened in that room, Syra?”
I shifted, the question dousing the desire as though he had poured a pail of icy water over my head. All of the thoughts I had been so desperately avoiding resurfacing as my eyes closed tightly.
“Bran told you, didn’t he?” I gritted out.
“Bran is always vague when it comes to you. He told us that Wraith thinks The Fever is a Solerian creation, but there’s more.
” I kept my eyes shut as he spoke, worried that he’d see the darkness spooling out of me with each word he spoke.
Scared that my secrets would spill if I saw worry in the endless sea of silver and green.
“I know there’s more. That man looked like he was seeing a ghost when you walked into the room, Syra.
Whatever you spoke of, it wasn’t related to the quest, was it? ”
My hands clenched, my nails breaking the skin. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business what we may or may not have spoken of, Captain.”
“Don’t do that.”
My eyes opened, narrowing. His head shook at what he saw within them.
“Don’t push me away.” His voice was a plea, as though he were seeking sanctuary within me.
As if he didn’t know there was nothing but rot and ruin to find.
“I made you a promise upon that desert sand only nights ago, that I would continue to reach for your hand, no matter what. This is me reaching, Syra. I can’t ease whatever pain you’re carrying if you constantly refuse to speak of—”
“My mother.” The words were harsh, biting.
Said so quickly they were nearly a jumble of incoherent syllables strung together, spoken before I could change my mind.
Before the anxiety could stick them within my throat for me to choke on rather than voicing them aloud, I continued, “He knew my mother, once. Long ago.”
He stilled for only a moment before his hand was dropping from the stone to my shoulder, the touch light and gentle as he pulled me towards him.
My eyes fluttered shut as strong arms wrapped around me, my chest cracking open with the simple gesture.
They burned as a hand moved to my hair, gentle soothing strokes as my body began to shake.
His arms tightened as the tears began, rivers of grief and pain soaking into his shirt.
His hold was so steady, as though he thought he could put all the broken pieces of me back together if he only held me tight enough.
After a few minutes, I felt his sigh against my hair. “Do you want me to kill him?”
I choked on a shocked laugh, thick and cracked with the sob half-cried. “If I said yes, would you really do it?”
He pulled back as he searched my eyes. Hands cupping my face as his thumbs caressed away the tears that stained my skin. “I’d drown this entire desert if you asked me to.”
“You don’t even really know me, Roan.”
His head tilted, lips pursing as his shoulder lifted and he said, “The secrets you keep don’t change anything for me.”