Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Malakai
How long had I been in this cave? I’d lost count of the guard’s shifts, but they switched every few hours, so it must have been at least a day. Without the window of my former cell and the moon to track across the sky, I was a victim to time.
My brain—still foggy from the drugs they gave me—pounded, my vision hazy.
They must have continued to work it into my system even while I was out, because my neck muscles were barely strong enough to hold my head up.
Soon, it would pass. Then, they’d likely dose me again—unless they were busy dealing with… someone else.
The wound in my side was bleeding, a fresh bead of crimson trickling down my body.
It must have ripped open when I thrashed against my chains, but with my arms restrained above my head, there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I tested my muscles, trying to swing my arms, but the chains clanged lazily against rock.
For the first time in my life, I was truly broken.
The horrific reality of what my captor was doing cut into my soul with each second that I remained in this cave, but still, I could not bring myself to fight.
Each wound on my body seared, a reminder of what she may be suffering.
I pictured the same marks being put upon her skin, and nearly vomited.
When I closed my eyes, she was there, bloodied and bruised.
And, fuck, if ever given the chance, I would ensure they all paid.
I tried to imagine any path in which she escaped.
I prayed to the Spirits that I was not even sure I believed in, If any of you are lurking nearby, please help her.
But it was futile. She was powerful, I’d never deny that, but she was one girl against an onslaught of soldiers and my captors themselves. I didn’t see how she could win.
Would they let me see her when they were done? Let me say all those things I left unsaid?
Angels, why the fuck had she come here? She was supposed to be safe.
With a painful shudder, I wondered which moment would be the one in which she drew her last breath.
Footsteps echoed down the passage stretching before the mouth of my cave, quieter than usual. The bearer lighter—or stealthier.
A shadow-shrouded figure emerged from a hidden corridor halfway between where I hung and where that orange glow permeated the air.
I braced myself, chains above my head clinking, and fought the slackening muscles in my neck.
I may be chained, broken in every sense, but I would not show them how mangled my heart was.
I would look this guard in the face as they enacted their torture on me, and pray that they struck that final blow. Taunt them into it if need be. Anything to end this existence, because it no longer felt like a life.
Through my clouded vision, this guard looked smaller than the rest. Feminine. She did not seem familiar, though the shadows made it hard to tell. Clinging to the wall, she turned to look over her shoulder every few feet as if confused or disoriented.
This was the best they could do? I sighed.
My blood didn’t quicken as she moved closer, and I realized I wasn’t scared of what happened next.
This guard didn’t have the same bravado as the others.
Even if she did, my body had grown so numb, I likely wouldn’t feel anything.
A twisted ghost of a smile split my lips—perhaps I could die peacefully.
She prowled through the shadows, seemingly unaware of my presence in the dim cave, but each step the guard took stirred a slumbering energy in my core.
A warm breeze drifted down the passage, a familiar scent floating on it, wrapping around me. It was a memory I had used daily to ignore the reek of my own blood—jasmine tangling with the crisp night air. My body welcomed it, a bouquet of everything that was good in the world, but I shook it off.
It is not real, I reminded myself. My mind was toying with me in this last desperate hour, conjuring fantasies of my deepest desires and fears. Falling victim to their tricks would only leave me more vulnerable.
Then, the scent shifted, and it became slightly wrong. Punctuated with a harsher undertone of ash and copper.
The fire in the distance pulsed—the orange glow lightening to vibrant gold for a fraction of a second, illuminating her—and my knees wobbled beneath me.
How—
Her face was in shadow, the light a halo, but that hair. The beautiful, soft golden hair that I had dreamed of nightly—I would recognize it anywhere, even under the thin layer of soot that coated it now.
The way it curtained her face—a shield to hide her deepest thoughts. How she always wore it tumbling down her back and lashing around her shoulders, whether training or riding or lounging among the wildflowers. It caught the light now just as in my memories.
Even from this distance I could feel the warmth of her body against mine, as if not a day had passed since I last held her.
My hands tingled with the memory of soft skin that hid the depths of her soul from the world.
The flicker of hope I had lost filled my veins in a roar of flame that rivaled the memory of her mouth against mine.
I opened my cracked lips, forced my voice through my dry throat, and exhaled, “Ophelia.”