Chapter 24 Eveera
Eveera
"What is our end goal here?" Rorin whispers into my mind.
I twitch at his voice, still not sure if I'm ready to have the seal between us so open. But he's… very convincing. Or at least the memory of his tongue is.
My neck rolls side to side, cracking, and his hand moves from my right shoulder to slip underneath my wild curls. His rough palm cups around the nape of my neck, and the circles he was rubbing on my shoulder move to just underneath my ear.
"You'll see," I answer, my inner voice sounding more breathy than I’d intended.
The princess looks warily at me, her eyes not leaving the sentient serpents slithering along my arms or the wisps of magic weaving through my fingers. "How did you find yourself in Rorin and our guards’ possession?"
She stalls, licking her cracked and dry lips before giving us a quiet answer. "I was looking for them." My Wield sparks at her response, the inky black of it bleeding into the edges of my vision.
Rorin must have noticed the shift in me because he pushes down on the pressure point behind my ear.
I take a few deep breaths in and out through my nose, gathering myself together before prodding her for more information.
"Why?" Her hands fidget in her lap, and I snap a tendril around them, binding her palms together.
Pruella gasps at the magic, her eyes darting down to survey her new accessory.
"Please — that's nothing, dear. Now answer the fucking question. "
"Easy girl." Rorin coos.
Her hollow cheeks flex as she clenches her teeth, "you two aren't the only ones who had a less-than-ideal upbringing."
The quiet simpering of her voice sends my nerves over the edge, and an empty laugh rattles through my chest. Rorin’s hand tenses on my neck, and by the feel alone I can envision his jaw is tight, and the vein is bulging in his forehead.
"Please tell us, princess, how was your upbringing less than ideal? "
Pruella shakes her hair back, moving the ruby strands away from her face, her expression twisting. "Obsessive father. Nothing was ever good enough—"
"Oh, poor princess. Daddy didn't love you, blah blah—"
"Did you want an answer to your question, your Majesty? Or would you like to continue interrupting me?"
Rorin whistles low behind me, and damn her if she doesn't have a smirk gracing her gaunt features. My fists ball, and he clears his throat, "you'll find we don't have much sympathy considering the circumstances."
She looks at him, disgusted, "so you two are the only ones allowed to have difficult lives? The Broken Prince and the Queen of Nightmares — word traveled very quickly through the whispers of courts once you left yours. Then my father caught wind of it, and he was… furious.”
“Furious?” Rorin asks.
Pruella shrugs, “furious that whatever plan he'd cooked up with Eiser might not happen all because of you." She laughs coldly, "that’s when he developed a new plan. Truss me up like a prized animal in hopes of dissuading you from her.”
I swallow the argument building in my throat, centering my focus on keeping my Wield contained to that one tendril.
"Unfortunately, you both played your parts very well. Clearly, I did too, seeing your obvious hatred of me."
"A-hem, she would have hated you either way— bit prejudiced this one." Rorin jests, and I send my elbow into his ribs, “Oof.” He grunts, “play nice."
“This is nice." I dig my nails into my palms and push him back mentally, “I guess being Hadar’s darling wasn’t a good enough gig? Daddy's tyranny was too much; we made rebellion look so nice, and you thought you would…? What? Come over and rough it on the dark side?”
The princess sucks in a sharp breath, "I thought that you two of all people would understand. Royal heir to royal heir."
"Where does he think you are?"
"At this point, I would think he's taken notice of my absence.” She shrugs.
“I was supposed to be negotiating on his behalf in Suram, while he pushed his efforts on Sorrel.
He said my 'pleasing disposition' would serve the Hadarian cause well in a neutral state such as Suram.
I ran into your party before I made it there, and changed course. "
Her willingness to lay out her father’s intentions so plainly makes it hard for me to believe any of it is genuine.
Rorin must agree, because when I glance up at him, his brows are pulled tight.
He searches her words for the lie, his lip curling up.
"You didn't change course; we killed your escorts and took you. " He snaps.
Her willowy shoulders lift again, "it got me the same result in the end. Although hospitality is certainly none of your strong suits."
"I'd say you still having that head on your shoulders was incredibly hospitable of me.
" I move the tendril off her hands, sliding it up the center of her chest to wrap around her throat.
Her neck cranes back as she watches the magic move, swallowing the knot in her throat.
"Fine. You can keep it for now. I'm feeling gracious. "
I yank the tendril away, and in the next beat, Millie comes waltzing back in to retrieve the princess. Rorin’s shocked to see her, leaning in to whisper, “how did she know when to come back?"
With her gone, my back relaxes, melting into him. I resent the natural way our bodies meld together, how easy it is to recline against his chest. "She was standing outside the door," I grumble, allowing myself another moment like this.
He rubs his left hand up and down my arm, dropping his chin on top of my hair. "Do you think the princess is telling us the truth?"
Spinning around, I look up at him through my lashes. "Don’t read too much into this.” I quip, wagging my finger between us. “You're still sleeping on the chaise."
"Ouch." I hiss, jolting upright. My forehead meets a hard surface, and panicked, my snaps open. I’m engulfed in darkness.
The only light streaming in comes from the split in the wood beneath me.
The sound — and feel — of gravel is amplified by the small cabin, the strong scent of pine hitting my nostrils.
I try to lift my hands, wanting to rub at my eyes, wanting to see better, but I feel an ugly weight dragging them down. The fingers on my right hand reach across my stomach towards its opposite, and the cool feeling of metal runs underneath them.
"No." I gasp. "No, no, no, no, no." My heart begins to race. "No, this isn't real." The words come out raspy, my throat raw as if I haven’t spoken in days, and I claw at the wood underneath my back.
Wood splinters off, puncturing my nailbeds, but I don’t care.
I scratch harder, crying out. "Ple-ase… PLEASE!" My body shakes, slamming my shoulders down onto the wood slats. I try to calm myself while the reality of the situation I’m in washes over me. I’m not getting out of this. I am never getting out of this.
“ARGH!”
My breath comes out in short pants, both eyelids fluttering closed from the lack of oxygen.
I can hear the faint sound of someone calling my voice — Ezra.
I think sourly. "I hope you enjoy finding my corpse.
" I curse quietly, letting the words be the last breath I exhale before succumbing to the dizziness plaguing me.
"Eveera." The voice calls again, but I ignore it, pushing the sound of him out of my mind as much as possible. If there's one thing I don't need in my final moments, it's to die hearing his whiny voice.
My body jerks again, the sound of my name growing louder. "Just let me go… please. I just want to go." I choke out—
"WAKE. UP!"
My eyes fly open again, but this time I’m met with two frantic kaleidoscopic eyes swirling with concern above me. Fresh air fills my lungs, and I gasp in a breath, my body bolting upright. THUNK! "Shhhhittt!" I hiss, bringing my hand up to my forehead.
Rorin's doubled over the side of my bed, his hand pressing the same place on his own face. Looking around, I see that my sweat’s soaked through the sheets. "I—I'm sorry," I mutter, my hand dropping from head to chest, where I feel the heart inside still racing.
"It's fine," he grunts, rubbing the red welt blooming on his tanned skin, "what was that?" He growls, angling his head to the right to look at me.
"A fucking nightmare."
I swing my legs over the side of the mattress and pad across the cool floor into the bathroom. My reflection scowls disapprovingly when I pass the mirrored wall, heading straight for the shower.
I won’t be able to fall back asleep until the memories are washed away.
"Eveera."
“Not in the mood to talk. I’m in the mood to shower.
” I call out, cutting him off while I pull my hair up into a loose, sweaty bun, "last chance to turn away.
" I snap, pushing the strap of my nightdress off my right shoulder and then my left, the soaked, silky material thudding to the floor around my feet.
I don’t care to check if he’s looking away or not, only caring about stepping into the scalding hot stream. The water singes my skin, each droplet leaving a red welt in its place as they bead off of me and onto the tiled floor.
The lingering question of what Rorin decided to do is answered when I become acutely aware that he’s moved in behind me; his presence at my back sends the hairs on my skin straight up.
His arm bands across my collarbone, leaving only a thin gap between us. His head drops on top of mine, and I can feel the threads of my self-resolve threatening to snap. "You have a real issue with personal space.”
The low rumble of his laugh rattles through my body. "I told you — I'm done with space." The last word drips off his tongue with disgust, and his arm tenses. "Is that… what he kept you in?" He asks the question carefully, his voice brimming with rage.
I swallow thickly, shoving down the panic and fear the dream left behind. "Among other things." I reply bitterly, "ha… that wasn't even the worst part. I could almost deal with the claustrophobia or the back pain. But…"
"But what?" Rorin grits.
"The tonics… the shackles. His Wield. A trifecta of torture." A trifecta that under any other circumstances I would have been proud of.
Rorin squeezes my shoulder, and slowly I turn around.
I’m at eye level with his scarred and muscled chest, my eyes searching each mark on down and…
my gaze snaps straight back up, cheeks heating.
Wow. I allow myself to think briefly before I take notice of Rorin's expression.
His eyes are dark, anger — no — rage building behind them.
The air starts to become stifling, his Wield uncontrollably spilling through his fingers.
I bring my hand up to cup his cheek, our bodies only a hairsbreadth apart now, and my touch is all it takes for the magic to die out.
He surges forward, the remaining space gone in a millisecond.
Wet flesh collides against wet flesh as he pushes my back fully against the wall, his arms caging me in.
"Why let him get away?" He growls.
I suck in a shaky breath, trying to ignore the fact that my bare body is pressed against his.
"He knows I'll come for him. And until then, I know he's sitting somewhere — hiding out, cowering, cloaking himself to buy more time.
But he's no fool. He's aware his days are numbered. He just doesn’t know what that number is. "
Rorin nods his head, eyes unconvinced. "It was his life or mine. I finally chose mine." With that answer, his expression softens.
He bends his elbow, laying his forearm against the shower wall behind my head. Rorin leans in, resting his forehead against mine. We stand there for a moment, basking in the comfort of one another, before he nudges his nose along mine.
Rorin’s lips graze down my cheek until they capture my mouth.
The kiss starts gently and slowly, painfully slowly.
He drags his fingers along the edge of my jaw, my neck tilting to give him more access as he continues that descent until his palm is resting just above my breast, pressing down over my heart.
His tongue slides along the seam of my lips, asking for permission, which I grant easily.
My mouth parts, and he wastes no time flattening me against the wall, our tongues tangling together as he consumes more of my mouth, deepening the kiss. The breath is completely gone from my lungs as he steals one kiss after another.
He touches me as if I’m something to savor… as if each collision of lips and teeth is his only form of sustenance.
Rorin’s knee nudges between my thighs, making more room to fit himself fully against me, and heat pools in my lower stomach.
My hands explore the planes of his chest while his ghost down my sides, his left palm stopping beneath my belly button.
He pushes down over where the heat has spread, languidly moving further down…
“ah…” I start to moan, and he captures the sound, pulling my lip between his teeth.
He keeps his hand moving, sliding it along my hip, annoyingly careful not to let his fingers dip any lower. Frustration builds in me, and I squirm against him. A laugh rumbles through his chest, and in the moment, it feels cruel to have me fidgeting against his naked body.
His very. naked. body. Oh, bleeding fucking gods…
Rorin's rough palm fits underneath my ass, gripping it tightly before hoisting me up, my legs wrapping naturally around his waist. The evidence of the effect of his… everything has on me becomes blatantly obvious, with my wound around him.
"Beloved…" He whispers, nipping at my bottom lip and pulling back to look at me with his heady stare.
My voice catches in my throat, and all I can manage is a weak, "please."
"Thank fuck."