17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter seventeen
Icry until I am empty of tears, still on my hands and knees, staring into the vacant air in front of me. I can taste the vomit that threatens to rise, my mouth watery and sour. Someone crouches behind me, and a warm hand finds my shoulder before tightening in a soft squeeze.
‘I think it is time we leave, Eira,’ Eliaz says from behind me with a gentleness that seems unnatural compared to his usual biting words.
The metal of his rings dig into my shoulder where his hand still rests.
I don’t turn to look at him, the mere act of crying in the vicinity of him is humiliating enough.
‘I don’t understand why he would do it,’ I whisper.
‘There are some things we may never understand, but things are starting to make sense to me now. Come back to Umbra with me, and we can discuss it there.’
I close my eyes, the thought of keeping them open much longer bringing me close to tears once more.
‘Fine.’ I sigh, pretending that it is not what I want most in this moment – to get out of here. ‘But only because I do not wish to face my mother again today.’ I haul myself to my feet, brushing the dirt from my skirts. ‘I’m sorry we didn’t get much else from coming here.’
A light wind breathes through my hair, which catches on my wet cheeks in clumps. I pull the damp strands behind my ear and turn to Eliaz behind me.
His expression is stiff, lips pulled into a tight line.
But his warm honey eyes are sympathetic when they meet with mine.
A fiery glint of sadness and turmoil flashes in them like the gold I saw flash across his throat just an hour or so prior.
His mouth loosens but swallows down any words before they are airborne.
He bows his head in a nod and walks around me.
A little confused by the action, I trail behind him, too tired to quicken my pace enough to walk by his side.
Eliaz turns the corner, and a dizzy tiredness sends me wobbling to the side, my hand colliding with the stone wall as I fight to keep myself upright.
The coldness seeps into my bones, my joints stiffening and seizing up in protest. I experiment with my power, blowing on the inner embers enough to bring warmth back into my fingertips without pushing it outwards from my skin.
The heat is delicious, and I exhale a steamy breath, sending it twirling into the atmosphere.
An abrupt disruption in the gravel sounds out behind me.
‘Wait!’ A woman’s voice bounces off the buildings, and slams into my ears with a desperation that makes me turn in reflex.
Morven is clambering down the steps, face glistening bright-scarlet and waving her handkerchief as though she is riding into battle and that piece of stained white lace is her weapon of choice.
I meet her halfway, the chambermaid falling into my arms to steady herself as she catches her breath. ‘Morven, whatever is troubling you so?’
‘Myla,’ she wheezes into the cold. ‘You must take Myla with you.’
‘Myla?’ I lean down trying to find any clues in her downturned face. ‘I’m afraid I do not f—’
‘My daughter. Her hands. She displays the early signs of the affliction.’
I grip Morven’s own hands a little tighter, knowing how it feels to see a loved one suffer in such a way.
‘I did not know you had a daughter.’
She looks up at me, her mouth lit with the ghost of a smile. A phantom of pride. ‘It was a secret I thought wise to keep. She was just in the guest parlour serving you coffee and collapsed in the kitchens whilst looking for Cook’s stash of those cinnamon cookies you so love.’
The mousy girl emerges from the castle, shaking profusely, her skin pale and her eyes watery.
Morven wraps an arm around her daughter as soon as she reaches her side, squeezing her tight and placing a kiss on her forehead.
‘You must go with Eira, she will take you somewhere you can get the help you need.
‘But Mama, I can’t leave you,’ Myla weeps.
‘Shhhh,’ Morven soothes. ‘Go with them. For me.’
‘We will keep you safe.’ Eliaz appears by my side, smiling gently at the girl. ‘We can help you, your mother will have already told you that.’
Morven gives her daughter a gentle shove. ‘You must go quickly, before your condition worsens. May the gods bid you a fast recovery, my child.’
Myla whimpers, her lip quivering as she sends silent pleas to her mother through teary eyes. There is some irony to be found here, she cannot bear to be parted from her mother, whilst I cannot wait to be on the other side of that Divide away from mine.
Morven does not prolong the moment any more than is necessary, shooing her daughter away, with a hasty swish of the hand.
A single tear rolls over her cheek as Eliaz offers a hand to Myla, and he begins to walk her away.
The girl keeps turning back to look at Morven as he leads her around the corner, tripping over her own feet – and his – trying to get a final glimpse at her mother before they are separated indefinitely.
Morven sniffles, wiping away the stray tear with her dress sleeve. ‘Off with you now, Poppet. The sooner you cross that Divide, the better.’
I take her hand in mine and give it a tight squeeze. All words escape me in this moment, but she must feel the empathy pouring from me, as she nods knowingly, with a pained smile. I nod back at her, letting my hand slip from hers before I turn from her and follow Eliaz.
‘Oh, and Eira,’ she says before I turn the corner, stopping me in my tracks. ‘I am pleased you are beginning to see things how they are. I knew you had the courage to be different.’
I stare at the ground, tears threatening to spill.
Her words spark an emotion in me that I cannot fathom, like a sharp combination of gratitude and shame.
Because, despite how earth-shattering today’s revelation has been, I am glad to be rid of the warped perspective I have had drilled into me my entire life.
I cannot help but feel, however, ashamed of myself for not seeing it myself before now.
Without turning to look at Morven, I walk onwards.
Because moving forward from this is all I can think to do.
Myla clings to the fabric of Eliaz’s coat, glistening eyes darting to me every few seconds in a confusing display of uncertainty.
I certainly haven’t met her before, most likely due to the fact that I had barely been back in the castle a few weeks, and the girl – although an immortal child – has the softness of blossoming youth in her cheeks. She cannot yet be five decades of age.
That being said, Eliaz should be a stranger to her also, and yet, her dainty fingers dig into his arm and not mine, her eyes diffidently glancing my way with caution, comfortable enough to turn the back of her head on him. A sign of trust she is not ready to extend my way it seems.
Myla was most likely tucked into bed every night with tales of the misunderstood kingdom and the dangers that lurked within her own. A mirrored image of the stories Mrs Knitt had told Lillienne and I by candlelight in the countryside.
As we reach the castle gates, the air seems to hang stagnant, the fire in the sconces flickering slow and sinister, like the waving fingers of the anti-god, letting us know that, although he hasn’t been seen for centuries, he still lurks amongst us.
Surveying. Waiting. Hungering.
Eliaz stops before the arches. He must sense the shift in the atmosphere just as I do. He looks over his broad shoulder at me. ‘Something isn’t right. You feel it, don’t you?’
I nod in answer, my heart thumping in my chest. I scan the window of the gatehouse, a single candle mimicking sunlight on the wall, the absence of a shadow. ‘There is no guard. No one manning the gates.’
Eliaz rubs his jaw, surveying the archway for any signs of further abnormalities or danger. ‘Unless we scale the castle walls, this is our only exit – and you didn’t seem too fond of the whole climbing thing earlier.’
I clench my teeth tight, unappreciative of the tease. Not whilst I am still brimming with the anger of his actions towards those guards. ‘Then we must continue on then, oh great and noble King.’
Eliaz scoffs, and Myla’s eyebrows furrow into a frenzy, eyes flitting from the king of Umbria to the Princess of Reyhen with faint puzzlement.
But he walks on, as do I, swallowing down the unease rising like sick in my throat.
I crane my head to look at the archway as we approach it, but my feet stick into the ground before I can pass through.
Eliaz turns to me, a single eyebrow raised, but comes to a halt also, Myla colliding into the wall of his back as she was too busy gawking at me.
‘What is it n—’
The crashing of the gate into its stone settlements cuts through the Umbrian king’s words with a violence that vibrates through our very feet.
Eliaz’s face drains of the little colour it has, his gaze snagging on something behind me, before his features darken with a contempt I haven’t seen since my initiation ceremony.
‘The girl stays.’
My mother’s voice is a stab of a dagger to my ears. Her tone is stern and unwavering, but upon pivoting to take in the sight of her, it is evident in the trembling of her lips and the dazed blinking as she takes in the sight of the King of Umbra, she is fearful. Hesitant.
The Umbrian king, in her kingdom, within the impenetrable walls of her castle – standing so near to her only daughter. Her face skews, a contortion of anguish and despair. I’ve detected more emotion in her today than I have in the last century.