Chapter 42 If You’re Not Scared of Me, What’s This Prison For? #2
“Further than us,” she mutters. “Three stories down and to the north.” Her eyes flutter open, the green light gone. Her sagging lips lift into a sad smirk. “A silver door.”
With a nod, I whisper, “Thank you.”
I crawl out of the dungeon, broken nails scraping against the stone floor.
?
The moment I’m beyond the metal bars, fire replaces my bones.
Boiling where blood should be. It’s only been a few days without it, but I feel more powerful than ever.
It courses through me, surging into my hands.
Ammunition at the ready. I just have to use it to save myself and Lucian. After that, we’ll go our separate ways.
I walk further down the castle. My skin burns hotter, reminding me of how I felt months ago when I first arrived at Visnatus—when I was afraid.
I pass the door Cynthia described. Silver. When I touch it, it opens, as if it were waiting for me. I step in, the whisper of my footsteps echoing in my ears.
Then I freeze.
Cynthia didn’t lie.
“Lucian,” I whisper, crossing the white room in three steps.
He’s here, but I’m not sure he’s alive. His body is tied upright, silver shackles binding his wrists and legs. I watch his stomach, waiting for breath.
There’s the shallowest movement of his stomach.
I drop to my knees, covering my mouth to smother my sobs.
He’s alive. How is he alive?
Could this be fake? Another hallucination?
With tears in my eyes, I rise and grasp the metal that holds him, trying to wrench it apart, but it’s no use. I’m not strong enough.
I reach for his face, clasping his cheeks hard. “Lucian?” I keep my voice low. I want to scream. To wake him. But I can’t be loud.
I hit his cheek. He groans. His eyes don’t open.
I step away, my gaze sweeping the room. In the corner, there’s a staff. I grab it, using the flat end to smash the metal. I hit it over and over until the connection finally loosens. Then, I manage to wrench the metal apart.
Lucian falls to his knees in front of me, head bowed and body trembling. I drop down, grabbing his face.
He looks up at me, his eyes open but his irises completely black. He stares at me blankly, and I clutch his cheeks tighter.
“Lucian, it’s me.”
“I never thought…” he groans, “I’d hear you say my name again.”
I pull him close, chest to chest, my chin resting on top of his head while my fingers run through his hair. His hands wrap around my torso, tighter than I’ve ever been held before.
“You’re alive,” I croak, gripping his hair like it’s my lifeline. I’ve never held someone so tightly.
I can’t believe he’s alive. I was certain I’d killed him.
“You came for me,” Lucian says into my chest, his voice vibrating against my skin. Then he pulls back, staring as if he’s drinking me in, memorizing every line and divot of my face, painting me with his mind. His hand moves up to my cheek, his cold, sweat-soaked thumb tracing my jaw.
I stare at him the same way. If anything ever happens to him again… I want to know every crevice of him. I want to remember the color of his eyes for a lifetime.
I want to kill anyone who dares to hurt him.
Lucian brushes my cheekbone, moving beneath my eye. His voice is soft and weak, “I remember.”
I lean back.
This is a hallucination. How many things have I seen that were just figments of my imagination? The dungeon, the torture, Cynthia’s green eyes. Maybe that’s all any of this has been—even his death.
“Should I be surprised I fell for you a second time?” Lucian murmurs.
I shake my head. I thought I was done with this. I thought I’d freed myself.
“Desdemona?” he says.
“This isn’t real.” I lean back. His hands linger on my wrists, as if they don’t want to let go. And why would they? Why would Zola stop haunting me just because I killed her ghost?
I try to pull away, but he lets me go before I have to.
Then Lucian lifts his shirt. “On the contrary…” There are three scarred stab wounds on his torso. “I have the wounds to prove it,” he whispers.
Stab wounds from me—when I killed him.
My fingers rise, resting over his torso. Lucian shudders when I graze my skin across his, tracing the lines.
“This is real?” I ask.
“For better or for worse,” he mutters. “It’s real.”
He died. He came back to life.
How is that possible?
“Then we have to run,” I say, though I’m not convinced. I think I could cut anyone down. But to save my own soul, I have to try to run.
Lucian stands, unsteady on his feet, and leans over to offer me his hand. I worry I’ll break him. I’m about to tell him that when he says, “I’m not that fragile, darling. But if you worry about hurting me, you can make it up to me later.”
“How?”
He leans in closer. “By kissing the scars you left,” he murmurs.
That sounds like Lucian. It might be a deeply inopportune time to flirt, but he’s always had strange timing. Does that mean this is real? There’s only one way to find out.
“Smile,” I demand. “I know you probably don’t feel like it but—”
Lucian smiles, cutting me off. Dimples. I let myself smile, too, allowing myself, for one moment, to feel the happiness I fear I don’t deserve.
He remembers me.
He’s done the impossible. After I killed him. Is that the sick price I pay? The only time I get what I want is after I’ve given it up? It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. He’s here and alive. I hug him again, my head falling against his chest, like it belongs there.
“I can’t—” I cut off. “It’s been so hard. I thought I’d never get anyone back.”
“You have me,” he breathes. “You’ll always have me. Even memory couldn’t erase that. Not for long.”
“I’m sorry for what they did to you,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry I killed you.”
Lucian pulls back, looking into my eyes. “I told you once, nothing you do needs forgiving.”
“I killed you—”
“And you saved me. Don’t let that be for nothing.” Lucian stretches out his hand, reaching for mine. I bite back my tears and grab his hand.
But my breath catches when he raises it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles.
Again, I clasp my mouth shut, stifling my sobs. But I have to say one thing. He has to know it.
“I missed you,” I say.
“I’m right here, darling.”
“No, Lucian. I missed you.”
Gravity pulls at the corner of his lips. “Des,” he whispers. “I missed you too.”
I nod.
“A part of me didn’t exist without you,” Lucian says. “You drove me crazy before I even saw you again. My mind was tearing itself apart trying to remember you.”
“Well I’m glad you did,” I whisper, pulling us back into the hallway of the castle.