20. Twenty
It”s been months since I”ve sat down in my studio to paint, and I didn”t realize how much I missed it until the first brushstroke scrapes against the blank canvas. While on missions, or when I”m teaching students to wield their magic, I have to remain calm, strategic, and always be a step ahead of everyone else. I”m constantly on guard, knowing if I make a mistake, I could die. Or worse, those under my command could die. But here in my studio with a wooden paintbrush in my hand, I”m free. Free to let everything I am, everything I”m expected to be, go. I can let my mind wander and the day”s burdens fade from existence.
Normally I draw places I”ve been or random people I”ve seen, but tonight, I”m painting her. After today I can”t eradicate her from my head, even if I wanted to.
I am not afraid of you.She had repeated it over and over and over again and even trapped in my Nox form, I fought to get to her. The way she looked at me when I transformed – I never want her to see me that way again. The terror in her gaze will stay with me forever.
When I first attempted Nox, I didn”t know what I was capable of, or what I was doing. When people died, despite my professors, and even my parents, telling me it wasn”t my fault, that no one knew the effects my Transcendent form would have, I still to this day carry the burden and harbor the guilt of their deaths. Every year, I purchase three bouquets and deliver them to their gravestones and beg them to forgive me, well aware they can”t hear me, but wishing one day I will feel absolved.
When Shaye asked me to use Nox on her, I nearly screamed. How could I be trusted to use Nox again when I don”t know how to control it? How could I allow this woman who has captured my heart and soul willingly put herself in danger? Yet, I did it anyway, because she asked it of me. I”ve demanded her to push herself, to hone her magic and improve her hand-to-hand combat, for a war that is no more than a whisper. How could I run away and disregard everything I”ve taught her?
Being in my Nox form was frightening the first time, but being trapped in that state again was torture. The second I transformed, I had zero control. It felt as if someone had taken over my body and governed my movements, as if I was nothing more than a puppet on a string. Nox was stronger, wilder, faster – and I was inconsequential in stopping him.
The sight of Shaye shielding herself from me as I pounded against the golden bubble plays on repeat in my mind. Internally, I was a madman trying to claw my way out of my own body, trying to take control over my magic once more. But it wasn”t until I saw her hand pressed against mine, heard her tell me she needed me, before I was able to find the strength to shove my thoughts and iron-will into Nox. He screamed, bellowing that he wouldn”t release me, but I fought. I will always fight for her.
The next thing I remember seeing was her face hovering over mine. The fear in her eyes was long gone and a newfound power emanated from within her. Her Lumos form was the most beautiful thing I think I”ve ever seen. Her hair was glowing and floating as if she was underwater. Her eyes were gold and her entire body shimmered with light. For a moment, I thought I died, but I was relieved when I realized I was still alive and was given more time with her in this life.
I slap my brush into the murky cup of water. Streaks of color swish in the cup as I clean my brush and pick up a different one. Determined to capture the moment that will surely keep me up at night, I stroke my brush in artistic fury. I”m desperate for her image to take form on this canvas.
”Ilaria Shaye Kitarni.” I whisper her name like a secret prayer.
I should be relieved the Midorians haven”t attempted to retrieve Shaye, but it has me uneasy anticipating what their next move is. With the news of our convoy”s execution being confirmed in Uncle Soren”s small council meeting a couple days ago, I am on high alert to ensure her safety.
Sure, the plan had been to kidnap her after our assassination attempt went belly up and use her as a bargaining chip to draw Bastian out, but the second I realized she possessed magic, the plan changed. Now I can”t bear the thought of her being sent back to the people who drugged her, lied to her, and controlled her. Slowly, I have seen that spoiled, grumpy princess shed those unseen burdens and rise into a strong, powerful and kind woman.
But why no word at all? Not even a whisper of discord from across the sea. No rumor or mention of the princess going missing or being abducted has reached our ears and from our sources, none of the other kingdoms have heard of it either.
Certainly, after weeks of being absent, someone would have noticed. Then again, her parents secluded her, sheltered her from the outside world. From an outsider”s perspective, it would seem like they were protecting their only daughter and future heir from anyone who would wish her harm. But they never sought to protect her. They sought to protect themselves.
How could they be ashamed of her? Of her abilities? Did they even know what she was truly capable of, or did they just immediately lock her away and inhibit her?
The need to safeguard her consumes me. So much so, I thundered through the doors of my uncle”s study the same night he first met Shaye. His guards were on high alert, with flames licking up their arms, prepared to strike me down, if I posed our king any true threat.
”How could you make a deal like that?” I had bellowed, forgetting my place.
Uncle Soren motioned for his personal wielders to stand down and ordered them to leave the room. Once we were alone, he set the book he was reading down on the end table next to his tufted leather chair and invited me to sit. When I declined, choosing to stand instead, he shrugged his shoulders and sighed. ”It was mutually beneficial, Atlas. She wants answers and access to proper training and research. I want her magic in case we need to protect our people.”
”She doesn”t know anything about fighting.” I tugged my fingers through my hair, damn near ripping strands out. ”For fucks sake, Uncle, she doesn”t know anything about her own magic. She”s been aware of it all of two weeks.”
”I am confident she will receive proper training at Magikos Grammata.”
Desperation to protect her overruled every rational thought. ”Permit me to be her instructor,” I blurted.
His eyes widened, ”Atlas, you teach younglings. First through fourth years. Philomena will never allow you – ”
”You are the King of Tronovia,” I take a step forward, challenging him. ”Overrule her.”
”She will be most displeased if I step one toe into school business.”
”Have I not served you faithfully my entire life?” I wouldn”t accept no for an answer. ”Went on missions knowing full well I might never come home without hesitation or question?”
He reclined in his seat, permitting my tirade. ”You have.”
”Have I not done everything you”ve asked of me without complaint or argument?”
”Get to the point,” he motioned with a hand, clearly done with the theatrics.
”I will cash in all my favors, pull title and rank, pitch a damned fit if I must, but I am asking you – one faithful servant to their master – sway Philomena and assign me to be her instructor.”
There was a spark of realization in Uncle Soren”s eyes, as if he”d just solved the answer to a confusing riddle. ”If I didn”t know any better, Atlas, I would think you had feelings for the Midorian.”
”I care enough that I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe,” I said with surety. ”You would have her fight in a war she has no way to win. I would make sure she not only stands a fighting chance, but that she has the skillset to survive.”
”Professors Fenwick and Darmas have more expertise when it comes to training anomalies.”
”But neither of them is an anomaly. I am,” I pressed a hand to my chest for emphasis. ”They don”t know her like I do or understand her the way I do. They have nothing to lose, if she falls in battle.”
”And you do?” His brow lifted in obvious amusement.
”I have everything to lose.” The silence stretched between us as I sank in the twin armchair opposite him. I stared into the fireplace and watched the flames dance, listened to the wood crackle. ”You like making deals, Uncle, then make one with me.” I flicked my eyes up to meet his curious gaze. ”Name your price.”
After a brief hesitation, my uncle shook his head. ”There is no price.”
I was ready to argue all night if I had to, but snapped my mouth shut when Uncle lifted his hand to silence me. ”As you said before, you have been faithful and served me and our kingdom without complaint. I grant your request.” I was taken aback that I actually persuaded him. ”Train her well, Atlas. I fear she will need it before the end.”
As the memory fades, I sit back on my wooden stool and set my paintbrush in the browning water. Scrutinizing every detail on the canvas before me, I can honestly say I managed to capture how I saw her this afternoon. The wispy golden hair, her fierce golden eyes and the light that nearly stole my breath. Without a doubt, this is the most stunning piece I”ve ever created. I don”t just see her power; I see my salvation. For her, I”d walk through the gates of the underworld, if she so much as asked me to follow her. Hell, I”m so far past the line I tried to draw between us when we first met, I don”t even remember where the line is. She has a way of making me feel seen and heard with just one glance, one smile, one word.
I”m in love with her.
That one thought rips a gasp from me.
I”ve never allowed myself to even think of that word in correlation with her. Attraction, yes. Lust, most definitely. Respect, of course. But love?
The wooden feet of my stool scrapes across the floor when I abruptly push away from the painting. I”m in love with her. Who am I kidding? I”ve been in love with her for a while now, I just didn”t want to admit it to myself. I”m in love with Ilaria Shaye Kitarni and I don”t want to live one more day without her being mine.
I rip my smock off, forgo washing my paint-stained hands, and rush down the stairs – one level, two levels – until I”m standing in front of her bedroom door. I raise my fist to knock, with every intention to confess how I truly feel, to sweep her in my arms, kiss her, claim her body, mind, and soul, but suddenly stop myself short, as if waking from a momentary stupor.
What am I doing? I lower my hand.
All this time, I”ve waited for her. I”ve kept my feelings in check and my hands to myself, for the most part, I”m only a man after all. But I promised I would give her what everyone else in her life didn”t. I promised to give her the freedom to make her own decisions. I”d be a liar if I claimed it wouldn”t cleave me in two if she left Tronovia, if she chose a life with another man, but I wouldn”t be able to live with myself if I forced my hand and clouded her judgment. She deserves the chance to control her destiny, even if I”m not in it.
Fuck.
I back away, making sure my steps are quiet, and slip back upstairs to my studio. When I turn the corner at the top of the staircase, I stare from a distance at the portrait of her and I”m struck by how much she looks like a Celestial. I”ve seen sketches and paintings of Enver Sol and heard tales about his magic from my father and uncle. Now, I can”t help but notice the similarities between Enver Sol and Shaye. She has his magic, and if she”s half as powerful as he was, we might stand a fighting chance at defeating Drogon, should Bastian and his Soul Eaters release him.
Whether she knows it or not, I”m hers. Every bit I can offer: my strengths, my weaknesses, even the frightening parts of myself, are hers.
I may be damned for it, but I am hers. I am hers. I am hers. I am hers.
And maybe, just maybe, she will be mine.