Chapter 6 #2
I think of the times I’ve been in danger. How the person who lied to me looked when he protected me from others. From myself.
Do not act so pathetic, the voice inside me growls.
Relief floods my body at the full resurgence of my evil companion. Thank fuck.
Yes, I’m still here.
The voice is clearer than ever, less like listening to it from underwater, and more like a whisper. The voice is…female. The realization disarms me.
I know no other way to be, I retort. My strength came from when you possessed me.
Something inside of me shifts. A bit of power flows through my veins, and I find my body softening despite the fear. Everything in my vision darkens. Suddenly, I know what to do. How to hit, how to kill.
I blink against the revelation and stand.
“Pretty human. The prettiest I’ve seen in a while. Too bad the king will never see you,” the man begins.
When I’d traveled in the past, I’d had someone to champion me. Someone to be a hero for me.
Be your own damn hero now, woman. You are not as weak as you believe yourself.
If I weren’t in so much danger, perhaps I would’ve been more taken aback by the kindness in the cursed being’s tone.
Instead, the ancient, feminine presence nudges my limbs, not fully in control, but more of a guide, and I push off the tree trunk and charge at the man.
It’s an echo of what it once was when its bloodthirsty rage was guiding me to Arion’s palace, but it’s effective.
My head and fist collide with his midsection, knocking him off-balance.
I’m shocked when his sword falls from his hand, but the guide in my body is still faster, not wanting to waste another minute that the man could hurt me.
As soon as the sword is in my hand, my whole abdomen lurches.
I want to drop the weapon, but the hesitation is flushed from my thoughts before my mind can fully make a decision.
I lean over and plunge the sword into his chest while he is still prone.
I squeal at the feeling of skin giving way to cracking bone and fleshy organs. A flickering black substance dances over my hand for a second, like a dark flame. I drop the sword and step back, to the amusement of the guide inside of me.
You are lucky you weren’t fully awake for the others if this is how you react to a relatively tame killing.
I bite my tongue against any quips that rise up, instead remembering the horror of black flames. I turn my palms over, looking for burns, and find nothing.
Blood, however, fills the crevices around my nails.
I look at the dead body, and my eyes burn.
“This isn’t me,” I whisper, somewhat desperate, as if I could prove it.
My mind wrestles to make sense of what I’ve done.
And what it means for the kind of person I am becoming.
Learning that I have the capacity to kill was devastating.
But before, there was a buffer between me and the deaths.
I was both responsible for them and not.
I was a tool, and it was my body that was used to commit the atrocity. It helped me to turn away from the pain, to put a cushion between myself and the sharp truth.
But staring at the grungy elf, I find no solace. It’s just as bad as the first time I realized what I’d done. I’ve killed again. Before, I was removed from the act, but today, I made the choice and took action, and now he is dead.
I stagger away from him, back to the tree trunk, and brace my forehead in the crook of my arm as it presses into the rough wood.
I stare at my hand, still shaking, but not fully out of fear. How could I kill again? Endless surges of adrenaline spike hot through my blood, causing my breath to come in short gasps that hardly bring enough air into my lungs.
Control yourself, woman. He was going to kill us, and I have no desire to go back. You love to gaze at the pretty nature—well, now is time for you to realize that nature does not exist merely to be pretty. Everything is fighting to live, and you are a part of that.
The words slide through me, and I can’t help but think of someone else who used to occupy my thoughts.
What would the man who lied to me say to all of this?
I think of the poem he recited that time we were in the Sisterhood’s Enclave. Something about finding softness in the world around me. Now I wonder if that will ever be possible again.
Everything that came before my departure to the elven lands feels like a dream. Getting to know him, being with him, watching him open up to me and feeling myself bloom in response…it was all a lie.
And it is over.
A disgusted groan comes from the stranger in my mind, and it shuts down the daydream. It shocks me so totally that the trembling ceases, and I am transported back to the world around me.
One where I am supposed to be running.
Pushing off the tree, I do just that. As my feet pound the ground, it jostles my confidence how unsettled I feel about giving my body over to the curse.
It isn’t a pleasant thing to share a body with a bloodthirsty force, but I’m not ungrateful. Honestly, I’m confused by how the woman is able to communicate so frequently with me at all.
I can almost feel Cursed One listening to my thoughts, observing them from some unfeeling side, but still deciding not to respond. Or simply, she had the same questions that now plague me and is no closer to answers.
As I run past tree after tree, a weight recedes from my shoulders, replacing my anxiety over my lack of a plan. Where can I even go from here?
Out of nowhere, a branch lifts. My foot catches on it and I tumble face-first onto the ground.
A feeling of weightlessness seconds before the teeth-chattering collision with the layers of underbrush and unforgiving ground makes my body zing.
The sensation ripples through me with a deep, aching pain that steals my breath and leaves me unable to stand.
“Fucking hell.” A crisp, annoyingly articulate voice draws my attention away from the throbbing pain in my temple.
I groan in response as Thorne’s hand reaches down and grabs my shoulder, not too gently rolling me over and pushing me up to a sitting position.
“What the hell was that?” I grit out.
He ignores me. Instead, he pulls me to my feet and steps around me, inspecting my dress, which is now stained, torn, and otherwise mistreated. A flicker of what he said earlier about Arion being doubly displeased if my dress was ruined returns, and I finally have the good sense to be worried.
“I hope you’ve gotten that out of your system, because we won’t allow for a repeat runaway bride situation. We won’t tolerate it if you continue to cause chaos—this isn’t the troll court.”
I study his green eyes as he speaks—the eyes of a traitor. The fear has softened, but confusion remains. I don’t know whether it would be better to continue with my plan to find a physician or to warn Enduvida. One thing is for certain, I don’t want Thorne to tell the king he saw me running.
Should we… I begin.
No. The being’s voice returns. Frustrated. We cannot hurt him.
So I must go?
Unless you find it in you to fight him without my help, but even then, there is a possibility that the spells that bind me would restrain you. There’s little chance he won’t tell Arion everything you’ve done.
Fuck.
Agreed.
Then I will stay. I am a weak woman. I don’t have the power to do as much as I’d like…but I am all that stands between Arion and Enduvida right now. As I search Thorne’s eyes, I remind myself of the amount of strength it takes to do the right thing.
I don’t want to, but I can do this.
“I’m going to need to change before I meet His Majesty,” I say simply, not offering any further explanation.
He arches one eyebrow, as if surprised by my lack of response to his goading, and then smiles, stands, and holds out his hand.
“It’s a shame that you were caught up with that thug. I’m glad to know that we were able to rescue you before you got hurt,” he lies smoothly, inventing his fictions as easily as an author weaves a fairy tale.
He’s not pushing the truth that I tried to run away. I’m…shocked?
“And the others?” I ask.
“One dead, but the rest are fine,” he says, again without feeling, as if we are merely discussing the weather.
I nod and square my shoulders, walking side by side with Thorne back to the carriage. The men were there because of me.
No, because of Arion. He is the one who wanted you.
Right. I need to be smarter.
Faster.
Braver.
I need to become a monster if I wish to survive in this place. Blaming myself for everything won’t get me anywhere.
And that darkness, the one that has been growing in me, smiles from the depths of the abyss.