Chapter 14 #2
Jestin spreads his fingers on his thigh. “I heard about that. My mommy used to yell at my dad about that; she must have been jealous.” He offers me his beautiful smile. “I always wondered how he could love someone that much to destroy the mating. Then I met you.”
“Wow, unbelievable.” Aidon throws his arms up and shakes his head. “I am not saving you again, sandbox.”
“He is supposed to be good with his words,” adds Nulok, earning himself a sand attack, but he dodges it swiftly with his magic.
“Mutual goal, don’t be an ass.” Riven’s scrutinising stare makes me giggle.
The night is perfect. I haven’t had so much fun in a long time. The strange warm feeling of belonging blooms in my treacherous heart, and for the first time, I don’t fight it. They know about what I did and still share stories with me. If it isn’t acceptance, I don’t know what it is.
I know. I know it’s stupid, but I was alone for so long that I crave the feeling. I let myself enjoy it without questioning whether I deserve to smile like that.
We stay till very late, happy for a distraction from what tomorrow will bring.
I hope they will be curious enough to come. There it was, the worry I hadn’t voiced before. What if they straight-out dismiss me?
Then you will make them listen. Aidon shocks me.
No snappy retorts? No mocking? Only encouragement? Has the mead made you feel bad? I think.
You haven’t finished overthinking yet. I could find something funny to poke at you, he says, matter-of-factly.
“And wasn’t what I thought worth poking fun at me?” I stand up, “Oh, almighty heir of shapeshifters, Aidon, it was so generous of you.” I bow deeply, showing my cleavage.
He towers over me, mouth just inches from mine. My heart races as I feel his breath brush my lips. “I see, you acknowledged my heritage, have you already considered taking a consul, My Lady?” He delivers it so coolly that I lose my composure.
What an arrogant male.
“Of course, she wouldn’t choose you, even your noble blood doesn’t make you good enough for a High Queen,” Jestin dismisses him and reaches to the ground. A wind of sand blows into Aidon’s face. He ducks instantly, yet some of it still hits his cheek.
Aidon strolls to him. “I suppose you and your sandbox would be better?” his tone full of contempt. “She ran from you once. You are not feral enough for her. Make room for someone better than you.”
Jestin’s grin hides nothing; his face seethes with unmistakable hatred. “I suppose you are interesting now. A new, dirty toy, but not good enough for a long ride.”
“Stop bickering, idiots,” Nulok steps between the two. “You would need a thousand years of etiquette to be enough.”
“Oh,” Jestin pauses. “Do you think she wants someone elegant?”
“Stop it!” I scream, making them all quiet. “What has gotten into you? A few hours ago, you were discussing me like I was beneath you, and now you bicker like I am a toy for you to fight over?”
Riven approaches me, his wings stretching out, covering me protectively. “Don’t be alarmed, My Lady. I think we are under the influence of a creature that highlights emotions. I suspected it from the moment I left the periphery of our camp. My magic should have alerted me, but I was biased.”
He stares at me for a short while, then lowers his head. “I’m sorry for my behaviour,” he says quietly.
I study the battle-ready postures of my companions: Jestin, known for finishing fights diplomatically; Aidon, his scowl darkening an otherwise perfect face; the Draghtralls, fearless and accustomed to violence; and Nulok, determined, even though he truly dislikes combat.
Then I focus on my Arken senses and… he is right.
The same eerie silence as before screams all around us.
Something isn’t right. Usually, I am the one with no self-control, yet I am not affected.
“We need to tread carefully, My Lady. It is a direct attack on your court.” Riven’s eyes glitch with the effort to fight the spell. Mental attack?
What the heck is it?
“The arselicker is right, listen.” Aidon hurries to me. They all do.
“The mist,” says Bane, drawing his sword from the handle.
I look around, indeed a delicate, almost suffocating mist of power surrounds the camp… Succubus? Faeries?
Riven puts up the mask of a general, gesturing for the rest to take their positions.
He and Bane flank us with outstretched wings, ready to absorb any physical attack.
Jestin gathers sand, shaping it into a protective barrier around us.
Aidon positions himself as close to me as he can, while Nulok moves closer to Jestin, hands ready to wield his power.
“Show yourself,” I command into the night. My voice bounces on the mist, which amplifies it instead of muffling. “Right now!”
In answer, a chirping voice emanates from all directions. “But My Lady, I mean you no harm.”
Goosebumps ripple across my skin.
“I aim to show you their true nature, that’s all, My Queen.” The voice echoes from all directions, like an ominous god. I can’t pinpoint the source of the sound; it seems like the mist itself speaks.
“Show yourself!” I repeat it louder and check the well of my power, preparing to shield myself if necessary.
“As you wish.” The mist groups at the edge of our camp into a cloud, resembling a huge monster.
“I have no desire to harm you, My Queen.” The voice grows stronger as it takes form, booming and resonant, like it could fill the entire world with its presence.
“The spirits are troubled,” the creature says, bowing deeply.
I need to be careful. One wrong word and it can become very ugly.
I look to Riven for any directions and he nods to continue. I don’t know when I began turning to him in uncertainty, but I do. I depend on his judgment because mine is faulty.
“I appreciate your efforts, but it was not needed,” I say.
“It was, My Lady,” it says, gesturing at the males. “You are moving too slowly; they are lying to you.”
“I will question them and deal with it accordingly,” I cut it off before it meddles in my head.
“But My Lady, you can’t enter the forest with a weak party, you won’t survive, and the spirits need you to open the gate.”
It is playing on my emotions. Manipulating me.
“You need to be aware of the lies.”
“Dismiss it,” orders Riven.
I am happy to do that.
“Take your tricks away from my camp, or you will not survive till dawn,” I order, channelling my inner Grams, letting some of my power loose. I barely register my companions’ flinching, but they stay at my side.
“As you wish,” the mist bows and evaporates, taking the loud silence with it.
We wait quietly, long moments dragging by, making sure we’re truly alone this time. We were fools, believing we’d be safe so close to the forest.
“We’ll double the guards. Navatian, you’re first with me.” Riven takes charge. “ My Lady, you need to rest. Rhodria depends on your wit tomorrow.”
Jestin nods and heads off to keep watch while the rest of us settle in. I find my bedroll and lie down, almost comfortably, yet even with the breeze caressing my bare skin and the fire’s gentle crackle, sleep refuses to come.
After a while, I am desperate to get my rest, I even try the never-helping method of counting sheep, but the unmerciful sleep avoids me.
I shift my position a thousand times. Shit, I even try to empty my mind, brushing away the trashy thoughts, only to become obsessed with them instead. No wonder I’m so bad at meditating. There’s no winning against the constant monologue in my head.
I’m fucking terrified I’m not enough. I’m almost certain Gorok will create another High Queen’s line if I fail… if I die.
The thought slams into me and my whole body twists with it. My fingers clench around the edge of the bedroll, nails digging into the fabric. My chest tightens, a slow, bruising pressure that makes it hard to breathe. My legs tense beneath the blankets, bracing for a blow that hasn’t landed.
And gods, I want to drown these thoughts in something strong. Anything. But I don’t have a drop of it.
That’s the worst part: this bloody journey forces me to stay sober, and my mind won’t stop attacking me. Every thought hits sharper, cleaner, with nothing to dull the edges.
I don’t deserve the throne after what I’ve done.
The words coil in my stomach, heavy and acidic. I curl onto my side, dragging my knees up as if I can hold myself together with sheer force. A tremor runs through me, small but biting, and I stare into the darkness above, wishing it would swallow these thoughts I can’t outrun.
“Have you killed them on purpose?” Aidon’s voice echoes in my head, uninvited and far too clear. His nudge on my arm makes it obvious he’s watching me.
You’re too loud.
I am not.
Have you? he presses, as if it’s the most reasonable question in the world.
Have I what? I snap, twisting to face him. He’s stretched out beside me, eyes fixed on the sky as if none of this matters.
He nudges me again.
Have you killed them on purpose? he asks, still refusing to look away from the stars.
“Of course not!” I holler and immediately wince. Too loud.
They’re asleep, Aidon reassures me, then jerks my arm.
“Stop!” I hiss, my voice cutting through the air. Applause for some resemblance of control is going to me—the Deadbeat Queen.
“Have you wished them harm in any way?” He asks, loudly. This time, his scarlet gaze pierces me, penetrating my mind, literally. His forehead wrinkled.
“Of course I haven’t, I never would,” I whisper.
I would die myself if Gorok let me sacrifice myself for them, but he didn’t. I’ve tried. Over and over. I spent weeks in his temple, asking for death. I wallowed on a cliff, screaming his name. Begging. He left me unanswered.
Every single time.
The painful memory sucks me in, and I have no time to stop the private pictures from surfacing at the top of my mind.
I balance on the edge of the cliff. Gusts of wind nearly knock me off.
I croak, my throat raw from begging, but the only reply is the heavy rain soaking me.
I am ready. I won’t run anymore. I am ready to surrender.
A single step—half my foot already in the air. Tears pour like the storm around me, clouding my sight.
I take a shallow, hiccuping breath and ride the panic, the adrenaline, deepening the step.
The wind claws at me, and I stop fighting.
Soon. My heart slows, knowing it won’t be needed any longer.
Finally free.
Free from the misery of my existence. I welcome the end and surrender to the wind. In a moment, I will fall into the abyss.
The instant the wind lashes me, I shut my eyes. Ready for rest.
But my heart races again. Fear.
It’s too late to change my mind. The ground rushes up to meet me. Then the wind changes direction and I twirl and twirl and twirl, then collapse sharply several feet away from the edge, landing on my arse.
My veins burn. I don’t know what’s happened, why it’s happening.
I know only the pain, wriggling in the swamp. I’ve lost track of time. Time has slipped away. The sky darkens, and still, the pain refuses to fade.
Coward’s punishment. Punishment for running away. A dreadful realisation appears in my mind.
Gorok is furious.
I blink, coming down from the flashback. Shame, familiar as an old friend, tightens its grip around my chest.
The clear disapproval of my Creator is nearly as painful as his punishment.
When I fully shake myself from it, I brace for an insult, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, Aidon’s hand finds mine. The gesture is unexpected but so needed; my mind empties.
Tiredness settles deep into my very bones, and I find myself drifting away into the darkness of my mind, only this time, a firm grip prevents me from getting lost.