Chapter Forty-Three
A small shriek leaves my mouth as a dark outline fills the doorway, the light from the hallway casts shadows around the figure. Willing my eyes to adjust, I take a step back. The figure is tall, but not as tall as Gryphon so I ready myself for what’s to come.
“You thought you could just leave?” a voice I know as well as my own. One who used to be full of comfort and tell me stories of battles, making them come alive in the firelight late into the night. “You’ve never been this selfish before.”
Another flash of lightning outlines my brother. My heart sinks and his words sting, despite their untruths.
“I can’t marry Sturdevant.” The simple truth leaves my lips before I can fabricate anything more.
“You will marry Sturdevant.” Killian takes two steps into the room, closing the space between us. I want to take a step back, but I plant my feet and stand like a triumphant weed in a rose garden. “You failed in your first marriage, probably bringing on Avicii’s death yourself. You’ll not disgrace our family when all eyes are on our next move.” He looms over me, the sour ale on his breath reminds me that to make any move against him right now would be a mistake. Thunder punctuates his last words, “And just to be clear, you are our next move. ”
I can do this; I can go along with his plan and figure the rest of mine out later. He doesn’t know what I’m planning, at least not the entirety of it—and I thank the lucky stars for that.
“You’re right.” My gaze falls to the floor in submission. “I was being selfish. I’m just so scared of leaving again, and you and Licia moving on without me. Look at you, married with two beautiful girls, what will I miss if I leave for another ten years?” I appeal to his grand sense of pride, and I can see the subtle shift in his stance. He softens just a little.
“It does seem unfair, perhaps this time we can call on you more frequently. I’m sure after your first son is born, Sturdevant would not mind if you came home for a period.” He nods as if this idea holds promise. When I know once my feet hit the wooden boarding plank, there will be no return for me.
“All I can ask is that you, Father, and Sturdevant give a thought to my request. Thank you for that kindness.” I move further back into our sitting room, perching on one of the chairs. My yawn is not wholly contrived as it’s getting late and I could very well fall asleep if I didn’t have such a night before me. “I beg you leave me to rest so I’ll be refreshed for my wedding day. Thank you for talking sense into me, brother. You always know what to say to make me feel better.”
Killian puffs out his chest at my flattery, but his smile falls flat. “Don’t think for one moment I trust you’ll remain in your chambers for the entirety of the evening.” And without another word, he strides from the room, slamming the door behind him. The noise reverberates around me in this dark space.
The candlelight from the hallway outlines the doorframe and the sound of metal-on-metal clinks across the darkness .
No. He wouldn’t.
My footsteps are the only thing I hear as I move quickly after him to the closed door. Grabbing and trying the doorknob, but it doesn’t budge.
“Killian!” I yell into the heavy wood in front of me. “There’s no reason to lock me in here! I’m not going anywhere!” But my words fall on unhearing ears. As far as I can tell, there’s no one left in this hallway, let alone our entire tower.
Tears slide unbidden down my cheeks, my hands cling to the doorknob as if I willed it enough it would open. But it doesn’t.
I slide down to the ground, every bone in my body failing me, no longer able to hold me up.
Tears fall more quickly now, tangling the curls that have fallen around my face. The cold stone floor and the firmness of the door at my back confirming the feeling of a prison. I stare into the darkness of our chamber sitting area, unseeing.
My prison.
This room has always been my prison and the only way out is always marriage.
There’s nothing left. I can't save my people; I can't even save myself.
Baylor, at daybreak, will be executed because of my actions.
I’ll have to marry Lysander Sturdevant of Etos now. I’ll never see my family or my friends again—those who’ve fought so hard for me and been there for me, even after all this time. I’ve ruined everything. Rain beats a steady, incessant rhythm on our turret roof, trying to calm the terror rising within me.
A pit forms in my stomach with each thought, heavy with the burden of so many lives. My hand rests on the pit, rubbing gently but it doesn’t dissipate.
With my hand resting on the pit in my stomach, memories surface, growing the sickening feeling in my stomach from a pit to a stone.
A garden bed of rocks . That’s what Avicii always said about my body. How is it I can bring anything to life in a garden, yet my body refuses to produce a life. Every month like clockwork, the weight in my belly would not be of a blossoming new life, it would be the weight of yet another disappointment.
Another failure.
And every time, Avicii would remind me it’s my fault. My failures.
How is it I keep ending up here? When all I do is for those around me?
The pit, now the size and weight of a boulder, hurts so much as if I’m being cleaved in two, causing me to slide onto the ground, wrapping my arms tightly around my knees. As if all that’s left of me, I have to hold on tight to. The ground presses against my tear-stricken face, bringing a welcome chill to my burning cheeks.
The darkness pressing in around me finally wins out, swallowing me whole.