Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The dagger whistles through the air so quickly that I lose track of it, wondering if I will meet my end.
I brace for impact, hands moving to cover my face.
A sudden gust of cold, icy air shoots past me as Rowena and I hit the dirt with a heavy thud.
Glancing up, I see the man's body covered in a thick piece of ice—his blade frozen inches from my gut.
A bolt of terror shoots through me as I scramble back, unable to regain my footing.
“Raelys,” a voice calls out. Hands grab my shoulders, steadying me enough to turn my head and meet Wrath’s gaze. “Are you all right?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say between ragged breaths. “Rowena?” Pulling out of Wrath’s grasp, I quickly turn to face her. Rowena is lying on the dirt beside me, but she’s no longer moving, her body still and lacking color. I shake her shoulder. “Rowena?!” I start to panic. “Why won’t she wake up?”
“She hit burnout.” Wrath circles us, bending to pick Rowena up in his arms. “Can you walk?”
I nod and stand, brushing the dirt off my dress.
Wrath places a gloved hand on the ice, shattering it into tiny fragments.
The man's remnants disappear into the breeze. I watch Aurelia’s and Violet’s father melt away into nothingness.
How am I going to tell Aurelia? Should I tell her?
I debate whether she will feel relieved or mournful.
“Come, Raelys.” Wrath walks away.
I follow him up the castle's steps, examining Rowena’s condition. “She froze him to save me?”
“Yes.”
Disbelief fills me. I didn’t know Elvarrans could produce ice from their fingertips.
Sebastian can manipulate the wind… so what else are they capable of?
Wrath and I enter the castle, rushing through the corridor.
At the end of the hall stands a massive door, flanked by guards on either side.
Their hands rest on the hilts of their weapons as they wait, unmoving from their post.
“Call for a healer," Wrath says to one of the guards, opening the door and stepping inside.
I follow him, suddenly realizing that I’m in Wrath’s bedchamber.
Every detail speaks of wealth and luxury; not a single item is out of place.
The thick velvet curtains frame the doorway to the large balcony overlooking the garden.
In the center lies a plush bed. To my right are tall mahogany shelves filled entirely with books.
A tapestry hangs from the wall, bearing the crest of a serpent breathing fire—the crest for House Bainbridge.
He gently sets Rowena on the bed and presses two fingers into the inside of her wrist. Wrath releases her, stepping away. “She’ll be okay.”
A sigh of relief leaves me.
“You pushed Rowena out of the way in place of yourself.” Wrath never misses the slightest detail. “Why?” he demands.
“I consider her my friend,” I reply. That answer isn’t good enough because I feel the magic creep up my throat. “I knew he was after me anyway,” I say against my will.
“What do you mean?”
“Must you always wrestle my words from me?” My voice slightly rises.
“Answer my question,” Wrath commands.
“That was the father of the girl I requested you to employ. When I freed her from his clutches, he swore that I’d pay for it.” I tell him the truth.
“You are lacking self-preservation skills, Raelys.” Wrath scolds me as he walks away. He pushes open the double doors to the balcony, putting some distance between us as he steps outside. “You would have been killed if Rowena were not there.”
A gust of crisp night air flows into the room, sending a chill across my alcohol-flushed skin. It sends a spark of confidence through me, leading me to follow him. If he wants to quarrel with me, fine—I’ll unleash my pent-up fury on him.
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” I counter. “That must mean I have excellent self-preservation skills.”
“Says the woman who made a deal with me," he says derisively.
“A deal requires two parties,” I remind him. “You only care if I breathe or not because you need me to break the curse.”
Anger flashes across Wrath’s features. “You can look me in the eye and tell me Rowena deserves to suffer like that? She will stay in that state for weeks, all because she used her powers to save your life.”
“You’re acting like I wanted this to happen.”
“Answer me,” he demands.
“Aren’t you going to force it out of me anyway?” I return fire at him, not willing to back down in this battle.
“I had sympathy for your situation. I still do, even now. I wouldn’t want that for Rowena either.” Wrath steps closer. “I see that sympathy was misplaced.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I seethe. “How can you judge me when the townspeople whisper such atrocities about you?”
Wrath’s gaze darkens—the scar on his neck flexes. I can feel him holding back his temper. I struck a nerve, good. I enjoy rustling his feathers, as he completely frays mine. We are like two vultures circling the other, waiting to strike our prey.
Part of me still aches when I think of the events in Avelisar, unable to fully move on, knowing I recited empty vows that I wouldn’t keep—and to a man I loathe.
If I could wipe that night from my memory, I would.
The humiliation of having to parade around in that dress, the fear of having Olav nearly force himself on me, and the guilt of knowing it is my choices that led them all to their deaths—it all weighs so heavily on my soul.
“You have no idea how humiliating it was to go through that ceremony. To know that I belong to that wretched creature, that I still do—”
“You do not belong to anyone, Raelys.”
“We said our vows.” My voice is firm as I try to keep my emotions in check. “I am technically still the Queen of Avelisar.”
“And you would still be in Avelisar if it weren’t for me.”
I don’t respond immediately, still feeling as if my head is under the surface, and I’m afraid to breathe. I no longer know what’s up or down, right or wrong. Wrath freed me, but he also took my deal to use me.
“Did you purposefully wait until I said my vows to utilize Avelisar?” I accuse him.
His nostrils flare. “What use do I have for an empty castle, Raelys?”
“You couldn’t open one of those magical arch portals to go through the walls?” I challenge him. “Why did it take you so long?”
“How large do you think a personal guard is? I managed to sneak in six Elvarrans. We had to get the rest through the wall while the ceremony was taking place. I came to get you as soon as I could,” Wrath explains, each word with a sharp edge.
“And no, I cannot open portals. Those are tied to keystone arches. Which are only in the North.”
Six guards. That isn’t many. They opened the gates and allowed the rest of the soldiers to invade the castle. With the siege underway, Wrath searched for me. His story is likely valid, but I refuse to acknowledge it.
“As soon as I got to Avelisar, they locked me in that room and wouldn’t let me leave. They claimed I would run…” I inhale a shaky breath. “…and in Cathros, I spent my whole life behind those walls. You said it yourself. I’m trapped here, too. It’s the same cage in different forms.”
“That is how you see me…” Each of his words drips with ire. “I am the villain for freeing you from your arranged marriage and giving you the freedom to go wherever your heart pleases. All I ask in return is your help before our magic is sealed off for good.”
“That’s not freedom, Wrath; that’s an assignment!” I shout at him, reaching my breaking point.
“Then what do you want, Raelys?” Wrath is maddeningly calm in the face of my anger.
“I want this damned mark off my skin!” I push up my sleeve, showing him the silver lines etched into my skin.
“Is it because I added to the ones you can’t remove?” he asks, low and careful, his eyes tracing the scars on my hands.
Glancing down, I assess the state of my hands. The bruises and cuts have faded, but the scars remain. Even now, Margaret haunts my dreams when I’m kingdoms away. I wonder if I will ever be free of the damage she inflicted, her wounds seemingly permanent.
I return my focus to Wrath. My emotions are so weary and broken that I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore. His grey eyes watch me with a careful reverence that makes me question everything. They remind me of the moon that hangs above us, gentle and unyielding.
“Don’t you dare bring that up.” I quickly lower my sleeve in shame.
“I’m trying to understand,” he says gently.
I swallow the lump in my throat, shaking my head and turning away. It is far too much to bear. I can face anything this realm has to challenge me with… but not that, anything but my scars.
“Wait!” He grabs my wrist, stopping me from leaving.
“Don’t,” I whisper.
“Those who seek to unmake me may conjure flame, but I shall not be reduced.” He recites a line from the Warlord Chronicles perfectly. “Tell me what’s next. I know that you have it memorized,” he urges.
“Those who seek to unmake me may rise with blade, but I shall not be stricken.” I finish the quote, growing suspicious that he mentioned the book again.
He’s the last person I’d like to discuss this with. This part of me has been under lock and key for so long that I’m not ready to face it. My abuse is sealed away in a place so far away that I’m not sure I can even reach it anymore. I can’t bear the weight of his judgment for much longer.
“I want, for once in my godsdamn life, to not be treated like an object to be owned.” I release the last of my heaviness.
The door opens behind me, interrupting our bickering. “You called for a healer, Your Majesty?” an unfamiliar voice calls out.
Murderous intent flashes across Wrath’s features. He begrudgingly releases his hold on my wrist, and I feel the mark fade from the broken contact. Wrath tears his gaze away from me, turning his attention to the healer, but he doesn’t move away from me.
I turn and leave without another word.