Chapter Ninety-Four Rhea #2
It’s hard to explain the scent that hits me.
It’s familiar in all the ways I expect: hints of lily and of paper and books.
Warm spices come next, like that of the Continent during autumn.
Like the scent of a man whose neck I loved burying my face into.
But woven between all of those are unexpected notes: the pungent cedar of King Dolian.
The rich tang of iron mixed with must and mold.
The worn wooden planks beneath my feet creak as I take in the small black couch against one wall, Alexi’s green arm chair across from it.
The space in the middle is bare, the white tea table that had once filled it shattered by my body when the king threw me against it.
As if spurred by the memory, the brand on my hip begins to throb, and I place my hand over the now healed mark to quell it.
Spinning in place, I turn my attention to the loft where I slept.
So many nights I had cuddled up with Bella—my only source of comfort—and stared out the window, hoping that one day, I might know what it felt like to be loved.
To have a home and a soft place to land.
Exhaling slowly, my gaze drops to the arched doorway of the library beneath the loft.
Stepping into that part of the tower is a homecoming all its own.
In this room, I had escaped into new worlds and characters, pretending to be anyone other than who I was in places anywhere other than here.
It had been a reprieve in the best of ways, and though I have since spent time in many different libraries, there is something so uniquely special about this one.
My feet pad across the room to the first bookcase, tracing the leather spines with the tips of my fingers as I look for the one book I’d like to see again.
I don’t need light pouring into the room to find it, its place within the shelves one I’ve memorized.
Yet, when I stop in front of the space where it should be, I’m disappointed to find its spot empty.
Dust now collects in the gap where The Little Sun had always lived.
On the chance that I’ve remembered wrong, I search the shelves above and below, moving to the next bookcase and the next, only further let down by its obvious absence.
Moving back to the center of the room, my fingers intertwine as I look over at the window seat, the outskirts of Vitour just showing in the distance behind it.
In my mind, I hear Nox’s voice as he reads to me.
The way the sunlight hit him in all the right ways, highlighting how stunningly perfect he was—he is.
I see Bella curled up on the floor in front of us, napping quietly.
Completely content and relaxed. Maybe it’s the way it’s easier to reflect back on the past when you’re no longer stuck in it, or maybe it’s the fact that I know this is goodbye, but I smile at the memories.
At the emotions they evoke. There had been a fair share of utter hell captured within these walls, but there had also been rare moments of happiness. Of light. Of love.
With a final glance over the room, I retreat back into the living area and walk to the glass doors that lead out to the balcony.
Pausing, I slip my flats off before opening the door and stepping onto the bitterly cold stone.
A shocked breath hisses out of me, as does another when my palms rest over the railing and I look out at the lake in the distance.
With the storm now fading, a peaceful—if restless—sort of quiet takes over, and I allow myself a few moments to bask in it.
The wind stirs my hair around my shoulders, making goosebumps break out over my arms and legs.
But I watch as the surface of the lake ripples, as water laps at the shoreline.
I draw my eyes over the wildflower field, the time of year meaning that they aren’t bloomed, and yet, dotting the otherwise dead winter grass, spots of life appear.
My throat tightens the longer I look, tracing the meadow back until I reach the treeline and the forest that looms beyond it.
I had left this place—as Alexi had wanted me to.
As I had wanted to do for myself. Though my story didn’t quite have the ending that I wanted, I had at least tried, which was far more than the woman from my past would have ever thought possible.
Fear had been a powerful manipulator then, but the fear that molds me now isn’t one composed of wondering what might happen to me.
It’s one that poses the question: What will I do to others?
Without the control of my magic… Without my free will and autonomy…
Without Nox… There is nothing left for me to become but a weapon.
If there is anything I have learned, if there is anything I’ve come to regret, it’s that there were moments I should have done more.
That I should have stood up for the people I loved.
For myself. The time for mourning my previous inaction has passed, but now…
now there is something I can do. There is a choice I can make.
A small voice inside of me tries clawing her way to the surface, begging me to reconsider.
I don’t snuff her down, don’t try to hide her in those darkest corners of my mind or trap her inside an invisible box because it’s too painful to deal with.
Instead, I reach out to her. Holding her hand.
And I tell her, I tell myself, that just because a choice is hard doesn’t mean it is the wrong one.
That, just because it threatens to shatter the already fragile pieces of my heart, doesn’t mean it might not also have the capability to heal me in a different way.
I have always been a mosaic of sorts—never quite a being made of smooth edges and well-fitting parts.
But I see now that there has always been beauty in it.
That there has always been strength in it, too.
I, Rhea Maxwell, have been a victim of circumstance for far too long, and now it’s time that I do something about it.
My heartbeat is steady in my chest, even when it dips as I grip the balcony railing a little more tightly.
Because of the railing’s height, it takes a moment for me to heave myself onto it.
When I do, I turn until my legs are dangling over the edge, my face aglow in moonlight as I stare out over that deep blue lake.
Nails digging into the rough surface of the stone, I allow more tears to fall.
No longer feeling the need to keep them bottled up, but simply surrendering to the sadness that begins to uncoil itself within me.
“I love you,” I whisper to the moon, closing my eyes. A tortured sob plays out into the night, the overwhelming feeling of loss laying rough hands around my neck. It will hurt, I think to myself, but only for a moment.
I slide myself closer, the corner of the banister digging into my upper thigh.
A gust of wind softly caresses my skin, carrying with it the scent of jasmine, as I suck in a breath, my fingers dangling off of the edge now.
The wind rushes against my ears, drowning out any sound but that of my own breathing and heartbeat.
I lean forward, my palms sliding off the railing as my stomach bottoms out and—
Abruptly, I’m yanked backwards, falling into someone as we both land on the balcony. Air is forced out of me with a rough humph, and my eyes shoot open as I scramble off the hard body beneath me and onto my hands and knees. Only to meet Xander’s dark eyes.
“What,” he huffs, his chest heaving and eyes wild, “the fuck are you doing?”