Chapter 6 Nyx
Nyx
Delicious smells waft in my direction, and my nose lifts as I take in the sweet scent.
Dirt cakes my hands, though, and my mind is louder today than it has been in a while.
It wouldn’t be wise to be around the others, because even if I wasn’t too dirty to investigate, I would make them uncomfortable with my silence.
So, I stay here among the flowers.
An entire brand new row of fresh yellow blooms lines the edge of my garden, and I pat the soil surrounding these I just replanted.
They were thriving in the forest, covering wide areas of ground, but something had been nibbling on the plants at night.
I can’t be upset with some innocent creature finding dinner, but these were so beautiful that I couldn’t stand the thought of them being eaten. I inspect my ever-expanding garden.
It seems I have this problem a lot.
A yawn stretches my mouth wide, and I have to remind myself not to rub my eyes while my hands are dirty.
Last night was another sleepless one, for both Elas and me.
He came when I was lying in bed, staring at my ceiling, but instead of knocking, he paced.
Back and forth, back and forth, until it was clear he needed me to decide for him.
As I opened the door, his emotions were conflicted.
Apologetic regret for bothering me mixed with the relief of not being alone.
We talked little, though, aside from Elas sharing stories when the quiet became too much for him to bear. That was okay with me. Healing doesn’t always mean confronting the demons that haunt us, or reliving the terrible things we’ve endured. Sometimes, it’s just knowing someone is there to listen.
It’s obvious August is the center of his world, and he talks about him frequently.
He worries about what his mate might think about him wandering off to spend time with me on these lonely nights, though he assures me he always tells him the next morning.
That doesn’t surprise me. Elas is a special sort of loyal, even to those that don’t deserve his loyalty.
He shares tiny glimpses into their relationship that give me a warm buzz in my chest, while also making me ache for the comfort that they find in each other.
It surprised me to realize I was… jealous.
That I covet what he has. Not August specifically, though he is lovely.
But the connection. The familiarity and intimate certainty.
For most of my life, I’ve been in survival mode, and it left me unable to process anything beyond anger, fear, and loneliness. Those became my baseline, and jealousy is far removed from my emotional banks. But as I longed for the comfort of another, I knew that’s what I was feeling.
Elas asked if I had ever had a friend in Ljómur, but the answer was depressingly simple.
No.
My cell, A-01, was the very first. A concrete wall on one side with a solid barrier separating the adjoining cell on the other. No matter how many times my neighbor changed, one detail remained a constant.
It was always a human.
Someone who could not speak my language or comprehend my words. Someone whose eyes I couldn’t see to communicate silently, with no means to speak so they could understand.
Alone.
Always so alone.
The closest I ever came to a friend was a human female who lived beside me for years.
She understood my pain and shared its crushing weight, even if we had no way to talk.
On the nights I cried to myself, she’d hum or sing in soothing tones until the tears dried.
She was like a bird, constantly chirping and making noise.
A much-needed reminder that I wasn’t alone.
On those days it was her turn to hurt, I’d sing the only lullaby I remembered from my childhood—a soft melody about a heart half empty until love fills its barren corners.
I wonder if my heart will always be half empty.
Elas, like the others, wants to ask about my mate… my lack thereof. That gaping hole in my chest they believe was once filled with the same joy they have. To them, to have a mate is to be loved, and anything else is an impossibility.
But while their tales end in sweet evenings and playful touches, mine was a different type of story altogether.
Mine was nothing short of a tragedy.
Just another lash in a life tied to a whipping post.
Light footsteps crunch in the gravel, and I blink a few times, wondering how long I’ve been lost in my memories.
The same delicious scent floats closer, and I glance over my shoulder to find Reyes cautiously approaching.
Sunshine bounces off his deeply tanned skin, and when he smiles, he shows all his teeth.
He’s happy.
Once, he told me he hoped the beautiful plants here could bring me happiness, and gods, how I’d wanted to believe it was possible. And when he smiled at me, for a moment I had believed it. Believed that sometime, somewhere in some distant future, I could wake up and be whole again.
That I might not be cursed to live this half-life with this half-empty heart.
I move up his frame, allowing myself to examine the firm muscles in his arms before looking at his face, where that smile holds, patient and unwavering. He’s always so steady, a counterpart to my insecure volatility.
It terrifies me, because I want to know more. This curiosity about another is uncharted territory, but I’m desperate to learn more about Reyes. What motivates him, and what he likes.
Did he like the rock I left him? Did he even realize it was from me?
It was such a small thing, such a ridiculous spur-of-the-moment idea, but it reminded me of his eyes and how they sparkle that same gold in the sun.
It was already in my pocket when he showed up at the creek, and I wanted him to have it.
I wanted him to know I see him, just like he makes me feel seen.
“Hi, Nyx.” I swallow my spiraling nerves as I stand and dust off my hands.
His eyes move from my filthy palms and knees to the flowers freshly tucked into the ground.
His lips twitch in a way that tells me he’s amused by something I’ve done, but there’s no malice behind it.
He never makes me feel judged. “Have you been adding to your garden?” he asks, and I nod, gesturing needlessly at the small yellow flowers.
“Dandelions,” he says, still with that patient smile as I test the word.
“Dan-dee-lion?”
His smile spreads, and with it, the warmth in my chest. “That’s right. Some people call them weeds, but I think they’re beautiful.”
“What is this weed?” His mouth twitches again when I drag out the sound a little too long, and I find myself staring at his lips.
The top one is flatter than the bottom, and usually pulled tight unless he’s smiling.
I like it when he smiles, and he gives more of them to me than the others. It feels like a gift.
“A weed is a plant, like these dandelions, that people don’t like because they’re invasive.”
“In-vay-sive?” I mimic, and his eyes crinkle happily, as if he enjoys my questions. Despite my natural curiosity, if I don’t understand a word, I let it go rather than risk annoying someone by asking. Reyes is soft and kind, though, and doesn’t seem to mind.
He shifts the box in his hands so he can gesture at the flowers. “It means they spread quickly. You’ve put those in the ground, but in a few weeks, you’ll have many more of them in your garden and the grass surrounding it. Some people don’t like that.”
“Why?” I wrinkle my nose, and he chuckles.
“You know, that’s a good question. I’m not really sure. They live in places where other plants would die and take root in spots they shouldn’t be able to grow.”
“They are strong,” I say, and Reyes’s expression is different when he looks at me this time. Softer. Pensive.
“They are strong,” he agrees with a tender smile. “Resilient… and a touch stubborn.”
A blush touches my cheeks at his sly, knowing grin, and my eyes drop to where he bites his bottom lip between his teeth. Before I get uncomfortable with his attention, though, he continues. “Dandelions can be eaten, too, or dried to make tea.”
“They taste good?”
Reyes teeters his hand back and forth in front of him. “A little bitter, but they’re healthy and easy to grow.” He pauses and gives me an assessing look. “Have you seen them when they seed?” I shake my head, and he grins.
“Hold on a second…” He dashes off to the other side of the house, and I peer around the corner. There’s barely enough time to wonder where he went before he returns, holding a white puff of a flower in his free hand.
“Now, don’t get mad at me for picking it,” he warns. “It has lived its life already, and this is how it spreads its seeds.” I nod as he comes closer, showing me the wispy ball of tiny, fuzzy white seeds. “This is also a dandelion.”
My brows bunch as I glance between the bright yellow flowers and the white puff. “They are the same?”
“Yes, they are. When I was a kid, we used to make a wish and then blow the seeds so it would come true.”
“A wish?” I question, and he nods as he twirls the flower between his fingers.
“A wish is… a prayer?” He shakes his head, chewing on his lip like he’s having a hard time forming the words. That I understand perfectly. “It’s something you want to happen, so wishing for it is like… making a request that it will.”
“To who?”
He laughs at my question, a rich sound that makes that heat spread through my chest and flutter. His dark curls bounce, and I’m so enrapt by him, I forget what I asked until he answers it.
“To whoever will listen, I suppose.”
No one has ever listened to my wishes, and the fates and gods abandoned me long ago, though I don’t dare interrupt his happiness by mentioning that.
Reyes’s laughter fades, but the crinkles in the corners of his eyes remain as he inches closer to me.
That lightness morphs to something different, something heavier, and my heart thumps in my chest as my breath catches in my lungs.