Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
Adelasia
The desert breathes differently beneath the stars, with the vast silence filling the hills and valleys of the sandy dunes.
Once upon a time, the constellations that fill the night sky were beautiful and alive, and I wished on the ones that fell like all girls do.
But now I only see them as reminders of things that are too far away and untouchable.
Tears slide down my cheeks and I press my palms into my eye sockets until it hurts, trying to get them to stop.
A sudden harsh wind pulls loose strands of my hair into my mouth, and on that wind, a soft voice–
“Adelasia.”
I gasp and spin in all directions. “Rowan?” I croak out. His voice seems so distant, yet I swear it was right behind me. I hear my name again, but no one is there.
I look down at my arm, where a glimmering golden line used to decorate my skin and show that my heart found a place where it belonged–but now it’s faded into a lifeless, dull black.
My mating bond tether used to feel alive in its own way, thrumming with the energy of the two men I love that always led me back to their arms. But now, when I reach inward to find Rowan or Kaius, there’s nothing.
Where our bond had once burned brighter than the sun itself, it’s now dead beneath my fingertips.
Just like them.
And yet, there is a naive part of me that refuses to believe it.
I hear my name again, but instead of Rowan’s voice, Habiba stands, looks up, and tugs on my skirt.
“What are you doing awake, little one?” I whisper to her. “I thought Baba put you to bed?”
“Why do you always cry at night?” Habiba asks, in the inquisitive tone that all young children possess. “Is it because you don’t like our house?”
I give her a weak smile. “Not at all,” I say, before holding out my hand and leading her to a flat patch of sandy cobblestone road.
The courtyard is still warm from the day, radiating heat into our soles.
I slowly spin Habiba in circles, and show her how to properly point her toes the way my own teachers did long before Eternity’s rot crawled beneath my skin.
My head covering falls from my hair and hangs off my shoulders as we dance together, and Habiba seems to have forgotten her earlier question when I lift her into the air before shushing her loud laughter.
When the dance ends and I gently push Habiba back toward the house to go back to bed, I catch Saddiq standing in the doorway.
There’s grief in his gaze. Not for me, but with me.
“Forgive her,” he says quietly. “Sadness is not an emotion she is familiar with.”
I place a gentle hand on the shoulder where raised scars meet the rest of his body. “I’m glad for it.”
We enter the house again together, and I use the basin near the door to rinse my feet of sand. Inside, Anya sleeps curled against Habiba, whose small fists curl into a ball around her mother’s dress. Saddiq bids me goodnight, and I lay down on my mat on the floor to close my eyes.
Sleep comes quickly, but like most nights, it’s not kind to me.
I’m back at the well, watching myself from the sky as I face Eternity.
Her gaze on my body is sharp as a blade, but the longer I watch, the more I realize her face has morphed into mine, and surrounding her are the bones of Kaius and Rowan.
Their bones still glimmered with a faint hint of gold where our bonds carved their way deep into our bodies–but they’re old and collecting dust.
My hands are stained black, dripping rot, and holding a knife.
I gasp awake.
I’m drenched in sweat and my arms are tightly holding myself in a soul-crushing embrace. Saddiq and his family are still sound asleep, free from this never-ending nightmare I live in every day and every night.
The silence feels unbearable, and I feel trapped beneath it.
But somewhere, deep beneath my rips, I feel the tiniest flicker of love.