Chapter 34
D ae’s not there when I wake up, but his side of the bed has signs of having been slept in. His clothes are strewn across the sofa and there are two coffee cups on the side table, one empty, the other lukewarm and full.
I stretch, sit, and wait. And wait. And wait.
Hours later, with no sign of Dae and nothing to do, I take a long bath and get dressed.
I consider sneaking through the doors several floors up to Hell, but none of the demons other than Dorian seemed interested in making a deal with me anyway. And besides, it’s a little scary up there.
I decide to confront what my father did and go down to the courtyard to see the mayhem he wrought.
But when I arrive, like the night Obi lit a fire, it is as though nothing has happened. The Fae and the humans move to the same wild drum beat, stuff their faces on the same glistening fruit, and crush the wildflowers beneath their manic dances. The only difference is that I don’t recognise any of the human faces, and that they stuff themselves that much harder, gorging on the fruit with a new excitement the last humans were missing.
The hags must have worked overtime to bring this many back. I really need to talk to Dae about this, I don’t know if I’d be able to get through to him, but there’s got to be a way I can convince him to stop stealing humans.
In the courtyard, I walk around, fiddling with a long, blue rose, picking off its petals and dropping them to the ground. It’s eerie how untouched the courtyard is by the bomb. Even the flora has grown over any possible charring.
Dae’s not here. Neither is Shiva nor anyone else I recognise, and the place feels cold without Obi, even though I’m hopeful he’s found his way home.
Maybe Dae is off with another girl. He had a life here before me. Maybe that’s why he’s away from our bed for so long.
Dark blue clouds form clusters, covering the night sky as the evening drags on and my eyes keep darting over and over to the long staircase.
The night hits its apex and I start to grow bored and resentful. Where is Dae? A glass filled with cranberry juice breaks in my hand, the red liquid seeping down my arm. I shake it off.
Shoulders hunched, I sit at one of the tables near the back, watching the?—
“You’re not eating the fruit,” a steely voice says.
I glance up, a Faerie dressed in midnight blue stands before me, a strange hat, pointy at the front and flat at the back with nightshade flowers woven into the fabric, sits on his head. I’ve seen him here before. I wrack my brain through those early weeks spent dancing with Obi. The Vizier, that’s what he is. His real name still eludes me.
“Hello Vizier,” I reply. “Would you like to sit with me?”
The Vizier’s lopsided eyes widen, a false flush of anger creeping up his cheeks. The corners of his eyes crinkle in hidden delight, and he covers them under thick stern eyebrows. My heart quickens as a rumble echoes through the courtyard, the ground shaking beneath my seat.
“I said, you’re not eating the fruit,” the Vizier repeats, his voice low and controlled. His wide fingers grasp some pomegranate seeds. “Eat.”
“What, no.” It hits me that my chats with Dae have taken place predominantly away from the courtyard—that the Faeries here might not know I don’t have to eat the fruit.
The Vizier’s thin lips harden. “You know what happens to girls who don’t eat the fruit?”
“Go chat to Dae, he’ll tell you.”
No breaths leave the Vizier’s lips as his chest stills. For a long while, we both remain silent, his arm still clutching the pomegranate seeds before me, a straight horizontal line from his hands to his shoulder. He does not waver, not for all the time it takes me to respond. Maybe he has extremely strong arms. The thought doesn’t bring her any comfort.
“I’m going upstairs.”
He shoves me back down by the shoulder. “Eat.”
“I will not.”
A happy glint shines in his demonic eyes.
He curls his fingers, indicating for me to join him. The ground shakes a little as I wobble up onto shaky legs. I pretend to lean against the table to steady myself, before breaking out into a sprint towards the staircase.
The Vizier’s arm circles my waist and he drags me across the courtyard, darting between wildflowers, his feet trampling none of spring’s gifts. My feet drag behind him, kicking and scream, crushing the flowers he’s saved.
The room sways—the music becoming warped, as though I’m listening through a tunnel. It’s not like fighting Dae, where there’s always a little opening and I can feel his strength, but I know I can tap out at any time. With the Vizier, there’s no escape.
I blink and we’re outside.. The air is warmer than it has been in a long time. My clothes stick to my body, my flesh rebelling against the warmth. He throws me to the ground and I try to run, but he slams his foot in between my shoulder blades and I’m stuck.
“I change my mind. I’ll eat the fucking fruit.”
“Too late.” There is a breathy edge to the Vizier’s voice.
I try to stand again, but he kicks the backs of my knees. Leaning down, he rips my top open, exposing my back.
The Vizier doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t taunt me, like Dae would. He just silently, quietly unfurls a whip from his side. Rain falls, small droplets dripping onto my unprotected back.
My entire body shakes, tears rolling down both cheeks—I bite my lip to stop myself from begging. Everything is moving so quickly. Faster than I’d ever expected. I think of Dae, of how he’d react. Would he laugh at me or protect me? A strange choking sound tears its way out of my throat as a resounding crack echoes through the air. Birds fly, scattering up in the night sky, away from the loud whip.
Fire tears through my skin and into my body. An inhuman scream falls from my lips. My fingers stop fighting to push me up and start grabbing at the ground. Root and earth and seeds call to me—cry with me. Droplets of rain drip onto my newly torn flesh, soothing and searing all at once. His boot is still on my lower back, but I can no longer feel it through the pain searing through my shoulders. The entire world beyond the blistering pain of the whip disappears.
“I’ll eat the fruit,” I scream again.
Another crack rips through the air as the whip comes barrelling down onto my flesh. I curl over until my face presses deep into the ground, soil wrapping around my nose as I lift my arms to cover the back of my head.
The second lash layers over the first, scorching me until my entire body shakes with agony. I pull my hands back off my head and use them to cover my mouth as I whimper into my sweat-soaked palms. The rain pours frantically, turning grass to mud, the steady downpour drowning my screams.
This is unbearable.
How many times did Shiva consider giving in? How many times did she consider offering anything, any trade, any deal, all for this to stop?
Blood pours off my back and drips onto the grass, painting it red.
I cover my ears as the third crack rings.
But the lash never comes.
Rain falls hard onto my bleeding back, but the searing pain never reaches me.
The heavy boot pressing into me retreats.
The whip cracks a fourth time and I retreat into the ground, surrounding myself in soil. But the fourth lash doesn’t hit me either. Nor the fifth. Or the sixth. I dare a glance over my red-dripped shoulder.
Through the rain, shrouded in darkness, the Vizier cowers and bleeds on the floor. Above him, Dae stands, whip in hand, violently thrusting it down, his eyes are cold steel as he hits the Vizier over and over.
The Vizier crawls, fingers pressing into the earth as he drags himself away from his wild, mad, horned assailant. The earth rebels, liquefying around his hands as Dae stalks him, tearing apart his flesh again and again. First his back, then his thighs, then his shins, then his arms. The crack of the whip no longer sends shivers down my spine. Instead, it rings in my ears like jingle bells.
A thunderous crack of lightning in the sky shakes me out of my glazed reverie.
Dae is going to kill the Vizier if I don’t stop him. For a few seconds, I remain still before finally shaking my head and slowly, painstakingly, willing my limbs in to action.
Dae jerks as I near, his wild eyes meeting mine in a flash of silver across the dark blue night as his arm droops, the flaccid whip lying pathetically on the floor. The Vizier groans, a wounded animal curled up and stripped bare.
Dae bring both hands to my face, the lavender and ivy adoring them scraping against my cheeks. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
He closes both hands around me, holding my face in place as he leans forward, his eyes wild and darting. By the time I realise he’s kissed me, it’s already over. My heart squeezes as Dae’s soft lips brush me again, an act too gentle for its brutal setting.
“You owe your life to Elysia, don’t forget that,” Dae says loudly over the downfall.
The Vizier lies, bloody and beaten, but his eyes trace mine, promising vengeance rather than gratitude. It doesn’t matter. Dae is here. I curl into his side as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and holds me in place.
“I would carry you, but that might hurt even more,” he murmurs from behind me as he inspects my back, sending a new, pleasant shiver down my spine. “Can you walk?”
“Yes. I can get myself back to our room.”
“You’re not going anywhere alone ever again,” he snorts, cold hatred in his voice.
He carries me into the castle through a back entrance, sitting me beside the bathtub as he turns the knob and drops oils into the tub. “Take your clothes off and get in. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I shiver, glancing at the bathwater—so like the rain that poured onto my flayed back. Same colour, texture, everything.
He stops at the door when he realises I’m not getting in, saying, “I need to patch that back up. Keep your knickers on if it makes you feel better, but you are going to get in that bath and you are going to let me wash your back before you end up infected.”
“Can’t you just give me a piece of cranberry fruit, like when my arm broke?”
“I thought you wanted to keep your brain intact.” He raises an eyebrow, and my chest floods with warmth—he respects my choices enough to remind me of them. I nod and he leaves.
The last bit of fabric covering my torso drops to the floor in a heap and I kick off my shoes, shaking as the surface of the bath turns crimson red. I blink. No, no—it’s just normal, transparent water.
Dae’s eyes remain averted as he strolls back in, throwing a towel and some fluffy burgundy pyjamas onto the bed. I narrow my eyes at the PJs—two small horns are embroidered into the fabric—Dae’s horns.
“Did you have those made for me. They’re exactly my size.” A cold smile. “There’s something really wrong with you.”
“Yes,” is his only response as he drops to the floor and opens a box filled with bandages and salves. The box, bandages, even the act are all so…human. I get in the hot bath, knickers still on, a light sliver of red weaving its way across the bathwater as I duck down.
I let go of a breath beneath the surface and watch the bubbles rise up from my mouth. Dae’s hovering silhouette casts a shadow across the water’s pink surface. A gulping breath fills my lungs as I rise.
“On your knees, lean forward, and don’t move.” I obey. “I’m going to dry it, then clean it, then dry it again, then cover it. Cleaning and drying it is going to hurt.” I tense as he edges closer. “I need you to be brave.”
With the first dab on my wounds, fire returns. I shudder, clutching the edge of the bathtub with a whimper, eyes trained on the bright green moss growing between the gaps of my cell. It’s okay , the moss tells me, you’ll heal soon . Had there been anyone there to do this for Shiva when her back was shredded? A new, softer sting courses through my back as he gently rubs salves into me.
Grabbing the large pink towel and stretching it out, Dae’s eyes gaze far to the right as he holds it up for me to step into.
Water drips to the floor, pooling around our feet. Dae dries me off slowly, gently, taking extra care not to hurt my back. He rubs my arms, my hips, and the tops of my thighs, soothing and burning as he traces circles with his hands. I turn around within the towel, following his every instruction.
“Here.” He faces the wall as I change into my possessive pyjamas, wincing as I try to pull the jumper over my head.
“Need any help?” Dae twitches, the cold edge back in his voice.
“No.”.
Dae’s fists ball up, the muscles in his back rippling with tension. I slide between our sheets. As I do, Dae’s eyes meet mine and for one strange moment, I want him to just tell me what to do, what to say, how to act. I want his fingers on my legs and my wrists, positioning me exactly the way he likes. I want him to reorganise the room, and me, however he sees fit.
Finally, after far too long, he takes his clothes off and slips inside, blood drops still splattered across his hands, neck, and face. Dae pushes me further into the bed with his firm hips. He reaches over and moves my left arm so it runs parallel to my upper body, and I can’t help the slow, soft sigh that escapes my mouth like a moan.
“I’ll never leave you again,” he whispers into my hair.
“Goodnight, Dae.”
“Goodnight, Elly,” Dae says, gently pressing a small kiss to the top of my forehead.