8. Kiera
Chapter 8
Kiera
I leave the small room on my own two feet with blood still soaking my collar, making it stick to my skin. The moment I step out of the door, three unnatural sets of eyes fall on me. Ruen’s head snaps to the side and he glares over my shoulder, most likely at the woman who remains behind.
“Let’s go,” I say, moving towards him. One foot in front of the other. No matter how lightheaded I feel, I won’t let myself collapse in front of Ophelia. I don’t want her to think removing the brimstone in my neck affected me.
The absence of the pain there has opened a void to something else. A strange sort of sucking of energy as it depletes me faster with every passing breath. As I near the other side of the room, my foot nearly catches on the side of one of the chairs. I stop just as Theos steps forward, reaching me in less than a second. His hand curls around my bicep and I pretend that I allow the action when really, I don’t have the energy to stop him. My gaze lifts to the doorway. The only ones who remain behind now are Regis and Caedmon. The former eyes me with concern even if I won’t meet his gaze. I’m still too raw from his betrayal, angry even if I can understand where he’s coming from.
“We’ll be in touch,” Ruen states, his tone sullen and his muscles tensed beneath the shoulders of his tunic and cloak. He holds out his hand for me. “Kiera.”
I shake my head and finally drag my arm from Theos’ grip, grateful when he lets me go easily. Once more, I walk towards the exit with my head held high. I stride into the hallway, bypassing both Regis and Caedmon. Theos follows, his presence somehow a relief. I pause once to glance back; Theos and Kalix are closer to me than anyone else, their bodies nearly blocking the entire narrow hallway. Over their heads, I see Ruen at the doorway. He says something to Caedmon, so quietly that I can’t hear it even with my newfound heightened senses.
Perhaps I could have were it not for all of the new sensations coursing through my body. I’m overstimulated. Each creak of the floorboards underfoot screams through my head until it throbs incessantly.
Theos frowns at me. “Kiera, are you okay?” He glances to the back of my neck where my fall of hair now covers what I’m sure is a healed wound.
I shake my head in a non-answer. No. I’m not okay, but I don’t want anyone here to know it. Not Ophelia. Not Regis. And certainly not Caedmon. It doesn’t matter to me that he’s somehow been trying to feed me information about the truth. He was Ophelia’s client. He knew everything this whole time. He let me be whipped and he, like the rest of the Gods—Atlanteans, whatever the fuck they are now—cannot be trusted.
I make it to the front door of Madam Brione’s shop without seeing her again, and though I am curious as to her whereabouts, the drilling of constant pain in my skull is overwhelming everything else. Kalix appears at my side, making me jolt back even as one firm hand lands on the small of my back. He doesn’t speak and he doesn’t look at me as he lifts the curtain away from the single tiny slit of a window in the door and peers out.
A moment passes and then another and another until finally, he nods and reaches for the door handle. Kalix slides open the door and his hand leaves my back to find my wrist as he tugs me along with him. Footsteps sound at my back, but it’s now taking all of my concentration to remain upright and walking.
The shop door shutting ricochets up the exterior building walls and over the cobblestones of the street. Farther and farther, I walk. Until my vision narrows down to one pinprick of light and I can no longer feel Kalix’s firm fingers on my wrist. I’m not sure if that means he’s released me or if all of my senses are finally crashing from the overload.
“Something’s wrong—” Theos’ quiet voice is suddenly cut off as a pair of arms pluck me off my feet and I find myself landing against a broad chest. My head lolls back against a strong shoulder and I peer up, finding the underside of a rough, unshaven jaw. Little dots of black hair line the square cut line and halfway down the throat of the man carrying me.
“Of course there is something wrong with her,” Ruen mutters, his voice vibrating against my side, letting me know that he’s the one carrying me. My fingers curl into limp fists. I bite down on my tongue, tasting bile. I’m going to be sick. I don’t know how to tell him, how to warn him. “She just had brimstone removed from her—a piece that she had inside her body for years. ” The last word hisses from his throat, and in my own mind, fogged over with confusion and pain, I can’t guess why he sounds so angry.
“The redhead is a healer,” I dimly hear Kalix say. “As soon as we return, I’ll send for her.”
Ruen doesn’t reply for the longest time and I sway back and forth in his arms, growing more and more content with the gentle rocking than I ever thought possible with a man I regarded, once, as my enemy. Is he my enemy now, though? Are any of them?
Before my addled mind can supply an answer, Ruen’s low timbre reverberates through me once more. “Fetch her yourself.” His voice is low as air wafts over us, sliding past my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose. We’re moving fast, I realize. Faster than human speeds. “I want her in the North Tower within the hour we arrive.”
My lashes flicker and I glance up. If I still had control of my body’s responses, I would gasp in surprise as the glittering night sky is replaced by a different one—just as dark, but far less speckled with white dots.
Ruen’s gaze bores into me and his lips curl down at the edges. “We’ll have Maeryn check you over, Kiera.” I know he’s aware that I’m still somewhat conscious even if I’m struggling to stay that way. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”
He sounds sure, but I can’t tell if that’s hope in his voice or determination. I’m starting to wonder if the two aren’t somehow irrevocably linked. One who is determined to hope is usually the one who sees the fruit of his labor, after all.
I don’t say as much though. I don’t even manage a response at all before the dark midnight of Ruen’s eyes swirl into nothingness and I fall into the depths of oblivion.
When next I wake, my back is pressed into a comfortable mattress and not the rickety and squeaky cot I’ve become accustomed to. I blink my eyes open and spy a mass of circular etchings in the ceiling of a canopy above me. My gaze flickers over the wooden ceiling of the large four poster bed I recognize from the many times I’d cleaned Ruen’s bedroom. Despite how often I’ve been in this room, however, I’ve never lain on his bed. Therefore, I never knew that there were so many images carved above the mattress. Scenes of blossoming flowers and filigree dot the outside edges, but the closer I get to the center, the more the swirls of circles darken and take on more deadly imagery. Skulls and swords. Monsters shaped like hungry wolves with fangs that drip with what I can only think is blood since between their massive jaws, they carry hearts and arms and even a few heads.
It’s wicked and ugly and yet, at the same time, beautiful. The cycle of life and death, of kill or be killed, of survival. The vision of it is so clear, too, that I’m reminded of the events that took place before I passed out.
Slowly, I shift and sit up in the giant bed, turning my head to scan the room and finding it empty. The curtains on either side of the floor to ceiling window several feet away in the corner furthest from the fireplace reveal that day has broken once more and sunlight pours in across the dark wooden floors and wine-red rugs.
The scent of ink and parchment permeates the space. I close my eyes and inhale. Beyond that studious scent is something else, and I reopen my eyes, turning my head back to the window and up when I spot a hanging basket. Inside is a pot, and from it, long thin strands of greenery flow. I inhale again, and the mint is stronger now with this new awareness.
I suppose that explains why there was always a hint of mint mixed in with his natural ink and parchment smell. How had I never noticed the plant hanging there in all the times I’d been in his room? No, maybe I had but had dismissed it.
The brimstone must have been muffling all of my natural senses and now with it gone, everything seems brighter, stronger. Scents. Sights. Everything from the light coming in from the window to the natural scent that I’ve smelled on Ruen Darkhaven crushes against me. A moment later, the click of the door opening has me up and out of bed.
Heart pounding against my ribcage, I shoot to the nightstand where I spy a dagger waiting there. I don’t know if it was left by Ruen or if it’s my own. A cursory glance down reveals that I’ve been stripped of my earlier clothes and redressed in a nightgown. The dagger and holster I usually have on me are gone as well. I bite my tongue. If Ruen or one of the other Darkhavens stripped me, they’ll regret that.
My anxiety eases a split second later as a familiar head of fiery red hair appears around the side of the door. Maeryn’s face lifts as she carries a bowl of what looks like water and a satchel in her arms. Pink lips part and her cheeks fill as she inhales. “You’re awake,” she says. “Oh, thank goodness.”
I nod and slowly set the dagger back down on the nightstand. “How long have I been asleep?” I demand.
Maeryn’s face twists from relief to a slight grimace. Her skirts, a mass of cream-colored fabric, swish around her legs as she moves. The black vest over the peasant-style blouse of the dress cinches tight at her waist, giving her a similar figure to the one I’ve seen when she wears trousers and tunics during her battle training.
“It’s…” She begins, a v forming between her brows. With a sigh, she shakes her head and nods to the bed. “You should probably sit down. I want to check your Divinity.”
I frown at her even as I turn and place my butt against the side of the mattress. Maeryn finishes walking the length of the room and sets the bowl and satchel down on the nightstand next to the dagger. She doesn’t comment about the weapon, doesn’t even seem to notice as she turns to me, and now that her hands are free, lifts them to my face.
“So, how long have I been asleep?” I repeat my earlier question as her light fingers smooth down my forehead, pushing the rat’s nest that is my hair back. Her skin is cool, colder than I expected, but her movements are soothing and calm.
With how close she is, it’s not hard to see the finer details of her expression. Her lashes twitch with my words and beneath the smattering of light freckles over her pale skin, her face blanches before smoothing out.
“Three days,” is her only answer before she hushes me. Her hands fall over my eyes and I’m forced to close them. “The Darkhavens requested that I come and see to you and Ruen informed me that they’d removed a, er, a piece of brimstone that had been in your body.”
“Yes.” I keep my own response light as she moves the pads of her index fingers to my temples and then presses down. A muscle jumps between my brows.
“I’ve never known a Mortal God who has ever had something like that inserted in them, much less for a long period of time,” Maeryn informs me. “There might be some lingering effects. How do you feel?”
“Everything is too bright,” I admit. “Sounds are too loud. Smells are too strong.”
She hums in the back of her throat, not an ugly sound, but instead unintentionally lyrical. As her hands pull back, my lashes lift once more. Maeryn turns towards the satchel she brought.
“What happened while I was asleep?” I ask. “Why am I in here and not in my own room?”
Flipping open the top of the bag, Maeryn rifles inside until she withdraws a glass vial with some sort of dark brown liquid and another with what looks to be crushed spices. Uncapping the first and pouring it into the bowl of water, the smell hits me a moment later and I gag, turning away.
“Fuck, what is that?” I cough out, my eyes already watering. “It smells foul.”
“It’s probably better that you don’t know exactly what it is.” Maeryn’s voice is full of sympathy.
“Wait.” I whip around as she dumps the second container of spices into the congealed mess of quickly muddying water in the bowl. “You’re not bringing that anywhere near me.”
“It’ll help you,” she says. “I know it’s not going to be fun, but if your senses can overcome this.” She pauses and gestures to the bowl before she withdraws a long metal spoon and starts stirring it. I swear to the Gods, I think I see a face forming in the mess, one screaming for help. “Then all of your sensitivity problems will cease.”
“Maeryn, I’m not saying this to scare you, but to warn you,” I say slowly rising from the bed. “If you put that thing near me, I’m going to stab you in the throat.”
She glances at me and bites down on twitching lips. The bitch is amused. This is so not funny. I take a step back and she finishes stirring the bowl of disgusting liquid that’s growing firmer by the second. I don’t know what it is and I don’t care to. What I do know, however, is that the scent wafting towards me is worse than anything I’ve ever encountered.
“You shouldn’t fight it,” Maeryn tells me simply. “You have a bathing chamber upstairs that you won’t have to share with anyone, so if you just get this over with, you can—no, don’t!”
I bolt for the door before she’s finished speaking. My hand latches on to the handle and jerks it open, and I run, head first into a tunic covered chest.
Blinking in confusion, Theos’ face gapes down at me as I hear Maeryn yell for him. “Hold her still!”
Fuck. I try to dive around him, but before I can, Theos’ arms band around me. He lifts me off the floor, my feet dangling helplessly as I kick and thrash, before striding back into the room and kicking the door closed behind him, effectively ruining my attempt to escape.
“No!” I shout as Theos releases me and without hesitation, I rear back and punch him in the face.
My fist collides with his cheek as his golden eyes widen with shock. My knuckles skip over his cheekbone, narrowly missing his eye socket before slamming into the side of his nose, and his head snaps left. Blood spurts. A grunt follows the movement but then a cold semi-liquid is poured down my spine and I shriek, whirling around as a glob of the putrid stuff that Maeryn had put together slaps me on the chin and drips down towards my breasts.
Mouth hanging open, I stare at her for a moment and the fact that her hands are coated in the stuff. “Did you just … throw it at me?” I ask, gasping as the acidic scent wafts upward and burns through my nostrils.
A groan sounds behind me. Theos’ hand latches on to my shoulder before I feel it recoil, and the sound of disgust in his voice when he speaks leaves no question as to the reason. “Fucking Gods, what is that smell? ”
Maeryn blinks as if she, too, is surprised by her actions, but still, she doesn’t back away as I feel a wet glob of something sticky and grotesque slide towards my ass over the thin material of the nightgown. She takes a step back as I take one forward. Holding up her brown sludge covered hands even as she drops the now empty bowl to the floor.
“Trust me,” she says quickly, holding those hands of hers up. “It’s better to get it over with than to suffer the new sensations?—”
“How did you know what I needed?” I ask, cutting her off even as I narrow my eyes on her and toe the bowl out of my way.
Maeryn, as if sensing my intentions, dives towards the bed and scrambles across the sheets and blankets. With a curse, I reach out, nearly snagging the hem of her skirts as she leaps toward the opposite end. Grinding my teeth, I widen my stance as she reaches the opposite half of the bed and turns, offering me a pitiable apologetic shrug.
“It happens to a lot of younger Mortal Gods,” she answers. “Sometimes Divinity takes a few years to form and when it does a bit too suddenly, it overwhelms the senses until you experience something that dampens them once more, makes them easier to handle. Theos knows. He’s experienced the same thing.”
Turning my head, I scan a scowling Theos as he thumbs away a streak of blood beneath his already healing nose. “Yes, and I was happy to forget about that disgusting concoction.”
The pattering of footsteps sounds a split second before a streak of cream, brown, and red shoots past the end of the bed. I don’t hesitate. I dive for Maeryn’s retreating body and take her down to the floor in a tackle of limbs and shrieks. A piece of muddy sludge slips off my ass and plops onto the floor behind me.
“Theos!” Maeryn shouts. “Get her off me!”
Distantly, I hear the bedroom door creak open, but my focus is completely on pinning the girl’s wrist beneath me to the floor rather than seeing who’s entered. “I could, but I also don’t want to get punched again,” Theos replies.
Maeryn grits her teeth and bucks up into my hips. My grasp slips against the goop covering her palms. From where my hands hold hers down, sparks of pain shoot through my limbs and muscles. A gasp leaves my lips and I drop down on top of her as a hiss escapes my throat.
“Fucking … bitch,” I breathe out.
With a smirk, Maeryn lifts her chin at me. “Healers can do more than just mend wounds, bitch, ” she shoots back.
Maybe any other time, I’d respect her attitude—Gods, were I not the one she just flung shit that smells worse than any horse manure I’ve ever encountered at—I’d be on the sidelines laughing my ass off.
“W-what’s going on?” Niall’s timid tone penetrates my skull and with a groan as Maeryn sends another shot of whatever kind of energy-Divinity-magic she possesses through my body, I rear back and snap my skull down, slamming it into hers in a last-ditch effort to get her to stop.
The cry she unleashes is half outrage and half pain, but the bolts of fire and lightning stop slamming into me. Maeryn kicks against my hold. “Come. On!” she yells. “You needed it!”
“Catfight,” Theos tells Niall.
“ That’s enough. ” Both Maeryn and I fall still as the new, booming voice of none other than Ruen Darkhaven spears into the room.
Our heads twist to the side where Niall is half tucked behind Theos, curiosity, confusion, and worry etched into his slender features. Just beyond them, Ruen stands in the doorway, his tree trunk sized arms folded over his chest and a scowl curling his lips. I roll my eyes. That scowl is always there. It’s practically branded onto his features at this point, but instead of arguing with the hard glint in his eyes, I release Maeryn’s hands and sit back, holding mine up in a sign of surrender. Maeryn, too, sits up, though a bit slower.
Not by a single blink of his eyes does Ruen reveal if he even notices the Gods awful odor that now lingers in his bedroom and more specifically over both Maeryn and me. That, more than anything he’s shown before, is impressive. The repugnant foul stench clings to both of us while Niall and Theos stand with their hands clasped over their mouths and noses.
“You two,” Ruen barks, nodding out into the main room. “Bathe and change.”
“I-I’ll go get them some new clothes,” Niall chokes out, obviously trying to stifle his own breaths so he doesn’t inhale more of the stench coating the air. He turns and practically sprints from the room without waiting to see if Ruen will agree.
With a glare at the two Darkhavens, I lumber to my feet, and after a moment, reach down to offer Maeryn a hand. She takes it and climbs to her feet as well. “You don’t have two bathing chambers,” I remind them, dropping her hand. “So who’s to decide who goes first?”
Ruen arches one scarred brow at me. “I didn’t think you were a prude, Kiera,” he replies, cocking his head.
“You were supposed to be the only one bathing,” Maeryn mutters.
I cast a look her way. “You’re not that bad off,” I tell her, scanning her form. Her hands and arms are the worst and that’s not even from me taking her down. Had it been up to me, I would’ve smeared the disgusting stuff on her face and in her hair.
Maeryn curls her upper lip back and flashes me her middle finger before lifting her skirts in gross goop covered hands and stomping towards the door. Without unfolding his arms, Ruen steps to the side and lets her pass. I roll my eyes and follow her out.