Reshina #2
I gasped, slamming the book shut and rising from the chair. Arthur stood in the dark stone archway, his chest bare, breathing heavily, and wet as if he’d just come from the plains of snow.
“Apologies,” I said, regaining my composure. “I left, desiring to see the library you spoke of and I was brought here. I assumed the black door led to it.”
“It does not.”
“Yes, I see that now.”
“You should be resting in your room.” He walked to the bed, his back to me as he shoved something into the drawer of his bedside table. “Are you…in pain?”
“No.” I let the word settle between us. The wound did sting a little as if just to remind me I was in the presence of the one who’d delivered it.
He nodded and turned back to face me. “You must have questions.”
“I do.”
He gestured wide—an invitation for me to begin as he moved to his wardrobe and slid a cream tunic over his head.
“The door to this room,” I began, settling back into the chair. “Are those the fae who built the Underrealm?”
Arthur sat on the edge of his bed, folding his arms across his chest. “This is your question? About a carving on my door and not how my mouth eased your fever?”
A flush rose along my cheeks. “I understand the workings of an antidote. It does not surprise me that the Beast’s bite is poison while the man’s is the cure. That aligns well with how a curse from the Veil would counter itself.”
His brows rose in surprise. “I did not know it would work in that way.”
I smirked. “So you put your mouth on me as an experiment?”
It was his turn to blush. “The Beast knew. I asked him what to do when you weren’t recovering like you should have.”
“You can speak to the Beast?”
He nodded slowly.
“And the Beast is capable of speech?”
“No. I communicate with my mind. He has a grasp of some…particular words.”
“Such as?”
He shrugged too casually. “Blood. Hunger…others. Simple things. He knew who you were before you pricked your hand. He said he could smell the ‘Bringer’ which I assumed was the one who brought him to this land from the Veil.”
“Curious…”
Arthur stood, grabbing a blanket across the bed to dry his hair. “You should go. I’ve just come from the surface and it’s after the transition that he becomes the most volatile." He folded back the crimson bedding, ready to slide inside. “You really shouldn’t be here.”
Pocketing the book of poetry without his notice, I headed for the door. “I shouldn’t be here at all,” I muttered under my breath.
“Reshina.”
I made it to the archway, feeling faint and bracing a hand against the stone to keep myself upright. He took a knife from his bedside drawer, tossing it onto the sheets. The silver metal glinted and the handle shone, carved in bone.
“You have a way out,” he said softly. “Take it.”
I glared across the room, gathering my skirts and leaving him with a determined, “No.”
Each step to the door strained my body, but I managed, focusing on sheer stubbornness as a Ravenfae.
I pressed the pads of my fingers into the claw marks leading up to the exit, focusing on each one.
When I reached the top, I braced against the wood, catching my breath.
I’d pushed myself too far too quickly and the desperate need to get back to my rooms washed over me.
I took one step, then two, taking deep breaths each time. I leaned against the wall leading up the stairwell out to the surface, allowing the biting chill to breeze over my body.
A darkening sky with soft snowflakes falling in clumps of white opened above me. Without much thought, I took one step up. Then another.
If Arthur was resting from his transition from Beast to man, might I make it across the boundary?
I’d call myself a fool if I didn’t try…
I’d call myself a fool when I fell down the stairs and broke my neck.
Five steps.
Six.
Seven.
The cold enveloped me.
Make it to the line of snow, I urged myself, continuing until my stocking feet met the light dust of white, three steps away from the top.
I didn’t have it in me to shift, regardless of how much stubborn pride I had as a Goddess and a woman fighting for her freedom.
No.
It was not this day I’d escape my prison.
But soon, I told myself.
I leaned against the stone wall, sliding down, watching the starless sky darken and listening to the silence only a night of snowfall can bring. My gown pooled around me in a trail of black and roses sprinkled in soft white snow.
It was beautiful, really.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever appreciated the calm fall of ice to the earth. The blanket it lay over everything, quieting the world to sleep like a timeless lullaby.
Resting my head against the stone, I closed my eyes, promising myself the chill would keep me from falling asleep and freezing to death.
Minutes passed and my mind wandered back to that place in my dreams—my wings encased in ice.
Searing pain, burning, blazing, then a form over me, heavy, a mouth over my skin.
I understood now what it was.
Who it was.
“You’re supposed to kill me, not yourself.”
I jerked my head, eyes flashing towards the voice.
Arthur sat a few steps down on the opposite side with his back against the stone. “I told you to get some rest.”
I closed my eyes again, numb to the cold around me. “You cannot tell me what to do, King of Heartstone.”
He uttered a foul curse under his breath as he shuffled up the stairs.
I couldn’t get away from this man. Even if I’d wanted to run, he’d have caught me this night.
I was too weak to even try and so, like a child, he lifted me into his arms with the ease of a man who spent his nights as a rabid Beast. He bundled me close to his chest and took me away from the cold.
I recognized the dream all over again. His body was so warm, heating mine and melting the snow collected on my gown, now dripping a trail of water along the corridor floors.
I couldn’t speak so I remained helpless, the fight in me gone as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“What? No resistance from the Ravenfae Goddess?” he grumbled. “Pushed yourself past the point of arguing?”
“Tomorrow,” I whispered.
His chest rumbled and he pulled me tighter to it. I moaned at the heat and the act of being held as I’d never been in all my centuries.
As the night faded and I gave up keeping awake, I heard Piffle’s squeak, a door opening, and the great exhale of a man who read poetry, pulled women into the Underrealm, and melted the stubborn will of a Goddess of the Veil.