Chapter Nineteen
Asher
“ D o you want to talk about it?” Bellamy’s question came after nearly an hour of allowing me space to process. He had filled yet another bath, adding lavender and vanilla after heating it up then carefully placed me into it. I sighed, knowing that he would soon ask questions I was not sure I could answer.
“No.” Not if I could help it. His jaw tensed, the muscles there twitching as his anger momentarily snuck through that fiery shield of his. I would have laughed if it was not so ridiculous.
“We need to discuss this, Asher. You cannot simply pretend you are okay.” His words left me bristling, any attempt at composure failing before it could be executed. How could I explain that I would drown if I wallowed in the sorrow? In the pain? I no longer had the capacity to float within my emotions. It was swim or die.
Briefly, my mind flashed back to the moment he had found me in his piano room, the sound of him hitting the floor jarring me awake. I had been so upset with him for finding me because I knew then what I still know now—the world was better off without me in it. But if I were going to stay, then I needed to move forward rather than remain stagnant.
“Why ask a question if you are only willing to accept one answer?” From his spot on the floor beside the porcelain tub, Bellamy fumbled on his words.
I knew he meant well, he always did. Whatever Pino showed Bellamy had been promising because he seemed to think I was his future.
One thing Nicola had always told me was that the future was forever changing—there was no assurance in the visions of a Tomorrow. Even those of the Yesterdays were unreliable, as they were through the eyes of whoever’s past it was—whoever the Reader touched. Pino had been different, of course, his ability to see both past and present something my mind could not even comprehend, but that did not mean his visions were a guarantee.
Bellamy knew this, yet still, he seemed determined to make me the center of his world, regardless of how unworthy I was of such a thing.
“Tell me, are your secrets somehow less damning than mine? Is the fact that you have refused to be completely honest with me since the day we met not just as horrible as my choice not to detail out my nightmares and feelings?” It was a low blow, but I was not finished, and for some reason I felt that the fire below my feet had to burn brighter or I would harden into a block of ice. The water around me even seemed colder now, as if threatening to freeze over if I did not push harder.
“I thought you understood that there was a right time to explain it all. If I give you all of the answers you want right now, then I risk—”
“I do not care about what you have seen! Why must you neglect the present for a future that might never come to pass? I cannot wait around for you to deign to give me answers, Bellamy. I am not some pet who sits and stays until you are ready to walk me. I lived two centuries of lies and manipulation, I cannot do that again!” My angry hand gestures caused waves in the tub, some of the water escaping and splashing onto Bellamy. He did not seem to care though. Instead, his eyes stayed focused on mine, refusing to break contact. Never one to back down from a challenge of will, I stared right back.
“Choose what you say carefully, Ash, because there is no antidote for the poison of a few words. They often kill faster than a blade.” Without thought, I stood, even more water sloshing over the edge. Bellamy rose to his feet as well, the way he looked down on me necessary but still infuriating.
We were on the cusp of something dangerous. I knew it, and so did he. It was a hazard to fight when tension already coiled in my stomach like a knot, but I could not stop myself from squaring my shoulders and clenching my teeth.
I felt it then, the tug to take what I wanted from his mind. To force him into honesty.
“Then break him .”
A chill crawled up my spine as Padon’s words echoed through my mind. Break him. Break him. Break him. Break. Him.
On instinct, my arms wrapped around me, trying to contain the bloodlust, the pain, all of it. There was always another path, another choice. Yes, I would sacrifice many things, but Bellamy was not one of them. I did not need him, nor did I need anyone. He was not the sun, the center of my universe keeping me in orbit. But I did want him. His love and hope and strength, I wanted those things.
“I am sorry, but I need something, Bell. Anything. All I ask for is one truth, which I promise to give in return.” Could an ultimatum be spoken without threat? Without being explicitly said? If so, I had given one just then. It was in the roughness of my tone and the widening of my eyes as I continued to stare up at him, not even my shivers from the cold enough to deter me.
Deep breaths lifted his chest, the slow and heavy movements speaking volumes on just how close to the edge he was too. Ever since losing so many in Haven, we had both been teetering on a cliff littered with shards of glass. We were forced to choose the path forward, excruciating and long, or the path down, less painful but also fatal.
That was the problem. Tragedy always seemed so close by, like a pest constantly flying past our ears. No matter how many times we swatted it away, it came right back.
With loss, grief, anger, and lies between us, tragedy was not far away. I felt that sorrow of knowing I was going to lose something in that moment. Bellamy loved me in ways I could not fathom, possibly ways I could never love him in return, but everyone had their limits. As I waited with bated breath, the dread settled within me. I prepared myself for the punishment—or worse, the goodbye.
To my surprise, Bellamy did not hit me or yell at me or even walk away. Instead, he sighed before stepping into the water, his body still without clothes from our time together earlier in the night. His arms wrapped around me, pulling us down until we were both sitting, somewhat submerged and limbs tangled. A reminder that perhaps love did not always come with pain—that Bellamy had never been the royals, and he never would be.
When his hands grabbed either side of my face, warm and right and so different from Padon’s touch, I felt a tear slide down my cheek. The part of me that still sounded like Mia chastised me for my constant crying.
“Be strong, do not feel deeply or allow others to see your weakness,” Mia used to say.
It seemed that I was only capable of the opposite these days. I tried to harden myself again, to remember that anger, but then Bellamy leaned in and shattered every defense I had. With a kiss on my forehead, then my chin, then both of my cheeks, and finally my nose, he soothed me.
“When we first heard about you, King Adbeel and I had assumed you were infused with foreign magic at birth. Some type that we had never seen before, from a creature we knew nothing of. There was something so odd about Eternity gracing you with a power that was previously unheard of. Why you? Why then? Why at all? None of it made sense, and we feared what lengths the fae would go to in the hopes of conquering.”
I stilled, too stunned to even breathe. Every word felt like a stab to my chest, tiny pieces of iron shredding through me. Bellamy’s eyes searched mine, as if desperate for a reprieve from the honesty. There was so much fear there within their icy depths, so many layers of hardened water beneath that all other feelings were distorted and far away.
“Infused into me? Is that even possible? I have never heard of something like that before.” Questions swirled through my mind, each begging to be acknowledged and answered.
But it was when Bellamy’s eyes flitted down to the now-writhing tattoos crawling their way up his hands that something within me clicked.
Bellamy never called King Adbeel Ayad his father. He never wielded his shadows in the same way that Noe did, the magic always manifesting through his fae power or when portaling. The tattoos were like veins, as if something dark flowed through his blood. He never said “we” when referencing demons.
Our discussion about the afterlife had consisted of him telling me what demons believe, not what he believes. His ears, his power, his emotions riling up his magic, the way he seemed to always separate himself from demonkind. Slowly, cautiously, I brought my fingers to his tattoos—no, his magic. I was sure of it then.
Bellamy was not demon at all.
“They forced magic into my veins not long after I was born. It nearly killed me. Pino showed me. I watched visions of myself screaming and convulsing, looking for all the world as if I was being tortured. When my tiny body finally settled, Moon magic started attacking me from the inside, like poison in my veins. The demon who had worked with my parents placed a ward on my heart, ancient magic that protected me from being consumed by that which did not belong.” Pausing, he grabbed my fingers, stilling them. I looked on as his eyes scrunched closed, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Adbeel thinks that is why I developed an affinity to all four elements. His running assumption is that my power tried to balance out the magic, to combat it. Or maybe it was Eternity giving me a fighting chance.” His hands shook against mine, the truth sitting between us like a tangible being.
An urge to soothe him—to make sense of something so horrid and settle that pain I felt steadily tainting the air—came to me. I nearly choked on the force of it, the taste sour in my mouth. Every ounce of anger melted away, my heart only capable of breaking now. When he let go of my hands, backing up slightly, I quickly followed him. Wide blue eyes stared at me as I climbed onto his lap, so many versions of a single apology on the tip of my tongue.
Smoothing his wild black waves down, the hair becoming damp, I brought my forehead to his. Bellamy lost so much in such a short amount of time, two beings who had been like family to him as well as an entire village of fae that he had saved.
For the first time, I wondered if Bellamy felt guilt similar to mine. Over a month had passed of me wallowing in my own feelings, not considering the fact that he likely suffered in the same way. After focusing so much on his grief and sorrow, I realized now that I had overlooked the regret and accountability he likely suffocated on.
“I am so sorry, Bellamy.” His shoulders fell, body slumping forward. Leaning on me, I realized. “I love you—not because of or despite where you come from, but for who you are. I know I can be difficult, that sometimes I am unfair to you, and I will not pretend that it is okay. I do know, though, that you deserve all the love in the world.”
And when I grabbed him, pulling him into an embrace, I decided that I would do better— be better. He wrapped his arms around me, the tightness of the hold oddly comforting.
“I see you, all of you, and I am not afraid,” I whispered, my lips gently grazing his bare shoulder.
I wanted to know more—to understand how Bellamy came to be under Adbeel’s care, where his parents were now, what he thought my magic was, if they suspected that Mia and Xavier had done it after my parents’ deaths or…if my parents had done this to me.
But right now, while I basked in the presence of the male I loved and who loved me, all I could do was trust him with a truth too. As we both sat in the space where mistakes and remorse collided, I spoke.
“They are not always nightmares. Sometimes, I am visi—”
“You wretched little thing, I cannot believe you were going to leave me in that poor excuse for an inn while you slept in this—albeit hideous—castle!”
Bellamy and I both startled at the sudden presence beside us, the eerie voice a chilling sound that had us separating. Or perhaps the cold was from the water which Bellamy had instantly iced with his power.
Wrath sat perched on the side of the tub, looking incredibly bored. His soft fur and swishing tail were a strange contrast to his yellow eyes, but I was used to it by now, seeing as the tiny menace had not left my side for the last two days. Bellamy had only ever heard of the dalistori through notes though, so his instant wariness and confusion was not surprising.
“Twice we have been walked in on tonight. That might not seem like a lot to you, Wrathy, but it is quite strange that two creatures who are not Bellamy have seen me nude in a matter of hours.”
In front of me, Bellamy stared open-mouthed at Wrath, who briefly glared at me for the nickname before licking his paw casually. Stifling my growing laugh, I reached over to a nearby wooden rack and snatched one of the green towels.
“It seems this conversation will have to wait.”
“Yes, it seems so.” Bellamy’s growled words were followed by a vicious glare towards Wrath. The dalistori rolled his eyes in return. I chuckled, leaning into Bellamy in the hopes that only he would hear what I was about to say.
“Just so you know, I am still calling you ‘demon’. If only because you have a knack for tempting me in a way only wicked things can,” I whispered into his ear, offering him a kiss to his lips after. He groaned, but I slid free of him before he could get ahold of me. Then I stood, wrapping the towel around my body and exiting the tub.
“Disgusting.” Wrath’s bored and annoyed response towards my statement was all it took to send Bellamy into a mood, his loud huff and shaking of his towel telling me he was not a fan. He and Henry were about to have an incredible bonding experience.
I laughed, enjoying the small break from the everlasting intensity that filled my life. My feet slid on the ground, the cold making my teeth chatter. Leave it to me to skip over spring and summer by going South.
Heading back over to my red dress, a piece of gold fabric shone in my peripheral. I froze, not wanting to make eye contact with whatever garment sat atop the large bed.
Please say that is not for me.
Bellamy cocked his head to the side, the yellow towel around his hips low enough to show that indecent V shape as well as the magic below his veins. If magic had been infused into me, then why did I not have the same lines? Why did I not suffer the same pain he had?
Or maybe I did and I simply do not remember. Perhaps whoever did that to me had perfected it by the time I was ready. Could that be why I constantly felt my manipulation abilities, like they were something distinctly other?
Before he could make it to the bed, Bellamy froze, his eyes wide and darting back and forth, as if he were searching for something. A moment later, and his palm was up, shadows twirling around it until a pencil wrapped with paper appeared. Despite knowing that this would mean goodbye, I watched him open it with pointless hope.
“Shit. Fuck!” The prince looked at me, his stare burning. Yes, he would leave now with so many truths left unspoken. Once again, the universe was creating a fissure between us, and perhaps that was the biggest sign of what would come.
“Go. I understand. Write when you can, but focus on what is important.” I silently prayed to Eternity that I looked somewhat believable in my conviction.
Appearing unconvinced, Bellamy sighed. Then, as if not able to help himself, he closed the distance between us, both of his hands releasing his towel to cup my face. Our lips met, and the world ceased to exist. There was only Bellamy and I and this moment. A kiss like this could kill, could starve, could heal. It was charging, like a storm building up in the sky, the energy so all-encompassing that everyone in the area could surely feel it. My arms wrapped around his neck, red dress still in one hand while the other gripped the black mess of waves at the back of his head.
When the shadows enveloped him, pulling him away from me, Bellamy muttered one final sentiment.
“I love you.”
And then he was gone, only Wrath and I remaining.
Bellamy never said goodbye, and I wondered if that was because he feared what it implied. An ending of sorts. A confirmed period at the close of a sentence. Something final. In my chest, my magic stirred, as did my growing panic. Stuffing down those feelings, I did everything I could to remind myself of the decades of training I had been given on proper expressions. I was not a youngling. I could manage my emotions.
With a deep breath, I dropped the red dress and walked over to the bed. A floor-length golden gown was there, the silk thin. The designer had gathered parts, creating small folds on each side of the waist. The small straps, nearly as narrow as a needle, were black, as were the silk slippers beside it.
My heart picked up, a bit of sweat beading on my neck despite the way my body shook from the cold. Bellamy’s black flames still roared in the fireplace from when he had lit it upon my waking, but they felt more like ice than fire—the strange searing heat like a cold burn as it kissed my skin.
The dress was beautiful, though not as incredible as what Pino had crafted time and time again. But could I wear it? What would it feel like for anything gold to grace my skin? If I did, was that conceding to Mia and Xavier? Would they metaphorically win?
Subconsciously, I started chewing on my lip, tearing at the skin there and likely making my mouth look horrid. Mia had always hated that. She said beauty was a female’s strongest weapon and that, when cultivated, one could conquer with their looks alone. My lips took from my beauty, stole it away and left me with a face empty save for the imperfections once hidden beneath.
In the last couple of months, I had sealed away all that was taught to me in my two hundred years of being a ward to Mia and Xavier. It felt easy to gild those ideas, beliefs, and rules, imprisoning them. But sometimes, I felt that gold seeping into other parts of my mind.
It was Wrath’s bored expression and confused eyes as he jumped onto the bed and got comfortable that made me realize I already knew the answer to my own question.
Yes, I cared. Even if it was stupid, even if it was dramatic, I cared about what putting gold on my body meant. And I could not do it.
Shaking my head, I backed away from the dress.
“Is this some sort of test? What am I expected to do? Wear that?” When I hit the wall, I felt the tremors begin, once more looking far weaker than I wanted. Not again. I could not break apart and show so many feelings—so much pain. What would they think of me if I broke down over a dress? “It is hideous, and I will not put it on.”
Wrath looked far more concerned than before, his hair standing on edge and body growing. With as much dignity as I could muster when acting like a fool, I tightened my towel and proceeded to run out of the room. Cheeks heated and heart racing, I stumbled forward in the halls, opening every unlocked door in a desperate attempt to find Henry.
But after scaling a set of yellow stairs and rushing through yet another hallway, I found myself in front of a set of faded green double doors, the handles a strange brassy color. I ripped them open, not hesitating to dive into the unlit room. I could not search any longer, could not do anything other than fall to the floor in a fit of sobs.
My knees hit first, quickly followed by my free hand. The tears tore through my body, crashing waves of betrayal in a sea of remembered pain.
Bellamy was gone, likely throwing himself into harm’s way to protect innocents with the remainder of his Trusted. Nicola, Farai, and Jasper were surrounded by vipers with golden scales. Winona and Pino were fucking dead.
And I could not breathe.
How many times would I die upon a floor until it finally stuck? Eternity might bless the world yet and end me now. What an embarrassing way to break, at the hands of silk and past hurts, nearly naked on the floor of someone else’s home.
Even with the knowledge that anyone could have seen me running through the halls in only a towel, I still could not do anything but gasp for air and feel everything. With the last dregs of my strength, I let my mental gates open and tried to pull in any emotion outside of my own.
To my surprise, there was a mind not far away, full of curiosity and empathy.
Shah.
I looked up, grasping at my throat as I did, and there she was. Atop a seat built just below a wide window, which provided a beautiful view of the star-filled sky and vast expanse of trees, sat the Queen of Behman. Despite the sight, her eyes remained trained on me, the dark depths of them lit by the moon and so extensive they seemed endless. It was terrifying how much I saw inside of them.
Her thoughts raced—her mind just as full as that gaze.
Why was I there? What was wrong with me? What should she do? Was it a panic attack? Was someone hurting me?
On and on, question after question until I forced that stupid golden gate closed, watching it slam and locking it tight. Then I shook my head, my damp hair whipping back and forth as I tried to rid myself of everything. Tears still quickly fell down my cheeks, the salty taste of them drying out my mouth.
How should I explain that I was drowning above water? Suffocating on a color that had smothered me my entire life?
Shah stood, coming into clearer view the closer she got. Whatever this room was, she knew it well to be walking so gracefully in the dark. And as if our nearness made her realize exactly what was happening, she sighed, finally speaking to me.
“Breathe, Asher. You must breathe through it, or those demons—pardon my term—will eat you alive.” Her voice sounded far away, like words shouted down a tunnel.
My soul felt weak and dim, like a candle nearly snuffed out, burning on a spent wick. What I would give to simply stop. To take this aching pain in my chest and pounding beat in my head and shut it all off.
“Asher, you cannot let yourself fall. You are a queen. You are a survivor. Do not let them win.” And then Shah’s arms were around me, her larger build and height allowing her to embrace me fully. She smelled divine, like lemon and lavender, both invigorating and lulling. This would not be a horrible place to die, in the arms of someone who understood. “You will not die.”
Had I said that out loud? What a ridiculous thing to say. She probably thought me mad. Maybe I was. Perhaps whatever evil magic was inside of me was slowly stripping me of my sanity now that it had taken so much of my conscience.
“Breathe.” Shah’s voice was soft, her accent as soothing as the hand that stroked my hair.
Just then, so eerily similar to how it had on sentencing days, rain began to fall. The sound of it hitting the castle drowned out my mental voice, allowing me a lull long enough to take in a desperate breath of air, the first full one since Bellamy had left. Had that been minutes ago? Or hours?
Shah shushed me, her hand moving down to rub circles on my back as my sobs slowed. Through each breath, I told myself to morph the sorrow into something else, just as I promised I would when on Padon’s throne.
Turn it into rage. Turn it into vengeance. Anything other than the gaping hole of torment and sadness in my chest.
And so I did.