Chapter 23 Rhea
Chapter Twenty-Three: Rhea
The water has long grown cold in my bath, and my teeth chatter as I drag a finger over the murky surface.
I need to get out, to dress and face whatever the king has in store for me today.
Eve is waiting patiently on the other side of the door for me to do just that.
Though maybe it is presumptuous to assume that she is simply being accommodating and not that she is terrified to interact with me.
I wouldn’t blame her if the latter were true, especially now.
I see the way the staff and the guards that remain look at me, word traveling fast of what happened days ago on the beach.
I see my own remorse-laden reflection when I look in the mirror, the dark circles staining the skin beneath my eyes evidence of more than just too little sleep.
My dreams, not that I can truly call them that, have ranged between finding myself strapped to a table, another branding iron hovering above me with the king’s hand on my thigh, and reliving that day on the beach, hearing nothing but the screams of those men.
Of my magic piercing through the Spell like glittering black serpents, obliterating an entire troop of guards in one terrifying swoop.
That had been the most surprising part of it all.
I had seen men killed at the hands of other men and not even that had prepared me for just how easy it had been to take a life.
Multiple lives. Because it had been so damn easy.
A simple command, and my magic had done the work of dozens.
A quiet order, and something living had been reduced to only ash.
That was the brunt of my power, of the second half of the magic coiled within my veins. I can heal what has been lost, remake that which has been destroyed. Until the brink of death, I can nurse someone back with only my intention and that glowing white magic within me.
And yet…
I can also wither. I can decay and reduce and destroy. I can kill. I had, and it had been so easy.
I knew that dark power was dangerous. It’s why I didn’t want to even attempt working with it until I was properly trained.
Who was I to be at the helm of such a perilous ship with no experience and no fail-safe?
What made me worthy of carrying such massive power?
Those questions are pointless now, but it doesn’t stop them from rattling around in my head anyway.
I am a weapon now. Not just my magic, but me.
I had seen it in the siren queen’s eyes, the hunger for more.
And in the king’s, though his lust-filled gaze had come after he expressed his anger with me through his bruising fists.
Confusing, considering he had been the one to agree with the queen’s suggestion of killing the guards.
But not even the sting of my newly given marks or the bite of his words after we returned could penetrate the dark space I had sunk into.
Fifteen men had been wiped from this world in the blink of an eye.
All because I had not done the one thing that Selene—that even Nox—had tried to convince me to do.
I had not trained with both halves of my magic, choosing to suppress one in fear when I should have explored.
If I had done that, perhaps I would have been strong enough to fight off those who attacked Daje and I.
Maybe I could have even sensed Nox’s magic better, could have known that he wasn’t on the beach, a newfound hunch based on the location of the attack.
I couldn’t remember much, but I knew the pathway we walked and the landmarks.
We had made it most of the way to the beach, and that was much too close to attack me if he was there.
But if he was at the palace? It would make sense why I felt him so strongly.
It would make sense that they lured us so far from it.
If I had trained with my full capabilities, perhaps I might even be strong enough to fight off the magical hold of this ring.
Fear had ruled my life in the tower before Nox ever entered it, and I wanted to believe that I had fully let that fear go once I was in the Mage Kingdom.
But I was merely pretending, plucking at invisible threads and gathering up the ones I felt I could handle while leaving the others to rot with my avoidance.
It didn’t make them disappear, and it didn’t make me better equipped.
It simply made me blind. I had given myself a crutch, leaning on Nox in the moments I was too afraid to face reality, and in his love for me, he only gently pushed.
Just as Selene had. In my ignorance, I had built up my walls and demanded that we wait.
I blow out a breath, halting my finger in the water as two things hit me at once.
First, telling myself I had time to train had been nothing more than succumbing to the illusion that who I was—what I could do—affected me and me alone.
Even before my Flame Ceremony, I knew my magic was different, and instead of acknowledging it, I tried to make myself smaller.
I had successfully done what King Dolian—and the council and even Haylee—had attempted; I had erased a part of myself.
The second is that this wasn’t going to just be a matter of escaping back into the arms of Nox.
What King Dolian had done… Who he has aligned himself with and the power that they both now wield is so much bigger than just my own plight.
This is a new game, one that I certainly don’t feel equipped to play, but one that I have no choice but to take part in.
My magic is bound in my body, a body that isn’t always in my control, but my mind is still my own.
King Dolian isn’t some all-knowing god walking amongst us.
He is just a man. Despite how it might look now, he isn’t infallible.
And I am not completely helpless.
Gentle knocks draw my gaze towards the door. “My Lady, I’m sorry to interrupt, but if you don’t get out now, you will be late to breakfast.” A pause and then, “I do not think it wise to prod at the king’s already terse mood.”
Great.
“Of course. I’ll be right out.” Standing from the tub, I shiver as my foot plants on the cold white tile, each step to where my towel hangs making more goosebumps bloom over my skin.
The brand stings when the cool air hits it, and I glance at it briefly to make sure it is healing well.
It’s still red in some spots, the places where King Dolian had squeezed his hand over it only just barely scabbed over.
The rest is a bright pink, but at least all the blisters have now gone away.
Eve had helped clean the mark the night I had returned from the beach and despite everything that had happened—including how the king used her to get me to do what he wanted—she was still kind.
Still gentle in the way she cared for me.
It made my stomach ache, and I wondered if it secretly bothered her that she was stuck being a handmaiden to someone like me.
I ignore looking in the mirror as I pass, knowing that there are still plenty of bruises dotting my skin from my uncle’s fury.
He made sure to only strike me from the shoulders down, and as he stood over my heaving and crumpled form on the floor, a memory of Nox and I at the grave site for Immie unfurled in my mind.
One day, you will have your vengeance, Rhea, he had said as he held me.
I remember thinking the anger I felt then could be enough fuel for that—for vengeance.
Yet what pulses beneath my veins now is so much more than anger, so much more than just wanting to make King Dolian suffer as I have.
Because the idea of vengeance has never been about inflicting pain on my behalf.
It is a way to repent for the lives my uncle has taken in my name.
Alexi. Bella. Immie. Tienne. They all deserved so much more than to be unwilling pawns in a mad king’s game.
The same is true for Eve and anyone else the king uses.
When Nox comes for me, as I know he will, I am not naive enough to believe that he will not bring a reckoning with him.
I have to make sure that it isn’t all in vain.
Perhaps I should fear, as past me once did, being cut from the same monstrous cloth as my uncle.
That my newfound hunger for retribution against him might be a slippery slope to fall upon.
But all I can think about are the lives King Dolian took—mercilessly.
And as I wrap a towel around myself and head towards the door to my chambers, I decide that maybe being a little merciless towards monsters isn’t such a bad thing.
“How are you doing this morning, Lady Rhea?” Eve asks, her voice soft. A salt-tinted ocean breeze blows in through the open window in the room, stirring some of the light blonde hair that has fallen loose from her bun.
Dressed in a cream chemise, I step into the gown she holds out for me, its shade a lovely light blue.
“Well enough,” I answer, slipping my arms into the long gossamer sleeves, the fabric bundled with lace ties at my wrists.
I run my hands over the white embroidery that decorates the thinly corseted bodice, noticing the pattern of stars.
She hums, lacing up the dress in the back before gesturing for me to sit at the vanity. “His Majesty has told me to inform you that after breakfast, you will have your first lesson.”