Chapter 22 A Story of Revenge
A STORY OF REVENGE
Ascream.
High… piercing and the kind that echoed through the corridors like the cry of something half-alive, half-damned.
Naturally, I froze. The decanter on the nearby table trembled with the force of it, the echo stretching into the distance until it faded into a silence that seemed louder than the noise itself.
Vas was instantly on high alert. His movements were sharp, predatory, the firelight flashing off his bare chest as he turned toward the door.
“Stay here,” he ordered, the commanding tone no doubt hoping that his order left no room for argument. But this was me we were talking about, so of course I tried anyway.
“Wait… what was that? Vas, who…?” I started to say, but he was quick to interrupt me,
“I said stay!” His voice cracked through the air, low but powerful enough to still my breath. The moment he caught the way I recoiled, his voice changed. Softening, even though it didn’t match the fury still etched across his face, a storm he barely kept contained.
“I’ll handle it.” He said as he moved toward the door, but something in me snapped. I stood, clutching the throw tighter around me.
“But you can’t just leave me here alone!
Not after I just heard that scream… I need to know who it was!
” I argued just as he reached the door. He stopped dead in his tracks, his shoulders tightening.
For a heartbeat, I thought he might turn back and tell me.
But instead, he exhaled heavily, the sound thick with restraint.
“There’s no time,” he said at last, his voice quieter now but edged in urgency. But before I could protest again, he was suddenly there, crossing the space between us in the blink of an eye. His hand came to my waist, the other slipping beneath my knees, and before I knew it, I was in his arms.
“Vas! Put me down, I can walk!”
“Not fast enough,” he claimed with a grit of his teeth.
Yet before I had time to argue, my world blurred as he carried me out of the library with haste.
Meaning we were soon crossing the hallway, the storm outside pelting rain against the tall, arched windows.
His steps were swift, purposeful. The cold stone of the manor floor echoed beneath his bare feet, the sound of another scream leading us down the corridor.
I clutched at his shoulders, trying to read his face, but his jaw was set in grim determination.
“You’re not listening to me… Tell me what’s going on. Who screamed Vas?” I pressed again. His jaw tensed but he didn’t answer. His silence was more terrifying than any truth.
“Vas!” His eyes finally cut to mine for a fraction of a second, blazing with warning.
“Enough, Nessa.” Something dark in his tone silenced me, not because I was afraid, but because I sensed that… he was.
We reached my room before long, and he paused only long enough to kick the door open with his bare foot.
Then he strode inside, heading straight for the bed, clearly intent on tossing me onto it.
Only this didn’t happen, as I half expected him to dump me in here and run.
Instead, he lowered me gently onto the sheets, his large hands firm but careful as if afraid I might break.
“Stay here,” he repeated, his voice quieter now but no less commanding.
“No matter what you hear.” I reached out and grabbed his wrist before he could move away.
“You’re scaring me… please… just tell me what’s happening,” I whispered. His gaze softened, a flicker of conflict passing through the darkness in his eyes. Then, without answering, he pried my fingers gently from his wrist.
“Lock the door behind me,” he said instead, his tone low and final.
And before I could say another word, he was gone.
The door closed with a hollow sound that echoed through the room.
Outside, the downpour continued, and despite the easing of the storm, I was still left clutching the sheets, staring into the silence that followed, my mind spinning with everything left unsaid.
Who had screamed?
The silence after he left was unbearable.
It filled every corner of the room, pressing down on me until even the sound of my own heartbeat felt too loud. I raced to the door and did as he asked, locking it. After which I found myself pacing barefoot across the soft rug, the low lights from the lamps not bright enough to comfort me.
Every creak of the house, every gust of wind outside that rattled the windows, made me flinch and glance toward the door, half expecting him to return, half terrified that he wouldn’t.
The storm had moved further away now, its growl a distant rumble that seemed to echo through the hollow bones of the manor. Somewhere beneath it, I thought I heard movement, the faint sound of voices carried along the corridor and faded before I could make sense of them.
What was happening out there?
I tried to reason with myself, but the memory of that shrill, piercing sound would not leave me. It had been full of terror, but there was something else too.
Something… familiar. Making me question once more whether it had been the witch, as I had previously thought.
Eventually, unable to stand still, I slipped into the adjoining bathroom.
The air inside was cool and faintly scented with the mellow soaps he had provided.
I turned the tap, and steam began to curl from the stream of water, fogging the mirror until I couldn’t see the bruised exhaustion in my own reflection anymore.
The shower washed away the chill clinging to my skin, but not the thoughts clawing through my mind. I tilted my head beneath the water and whispered to myself,
“Why her?” The laugh. That sound. I had heard it before.
The day the witch had attacked me. The same sickening melody of madness that had haunted my dreams, that had made my blood run cold every time I remembered the way she smiled as she hurt me.
And now I was certain of it.
The witch. The one who had convinced me of the curse. Who had tried to play me from the beginning and who had been working for Vas this whole time.
But why had she been in his bed?
I turned off the water abruptly, my heart thudding against my ribs. I stood there dripping, breathless, trying to make sense of it all. Why would she be here? Why would Vas have her in his home?
Unless… there was more to their relationship than he was willing to say?
Could she be his lover?
No. I couldn’t believe that.
Not after what we had shared.
I dried off quickly and slipped into a fresh pair of nightclothes I’d found folded neatly with the others in the dresser. The material was soft against my skin and, like all the others, was void of personality, being a pale grey colour.
I ran my hands through my damp hair and glanced toward the door again, still listening. Still waiting. The clock on the mantel ticked steadily, cruel in its rhythm, marking the minutes of his absence like a heartbeat.
Then…finally it came.
A knock.
Sharp, sudden, and far too loud against the quiet.
I jumped, my breath catching in my throat, my pulse skittering wildly. For a moment, I simply stood there, frozen, staring at the door as if it might shatter beneath the sound.
Another knock followed, slower this time.
“Vas?” I called softly, my voice trembling.
No answer.
The air seemed to thicken, pressing in on me. My feet moved before I could think, carrying me closer. The silence stretched on the other side, heavy and waiting.
“Open the door, Nessa.” The sigh of relief was weighty as I rushed the rest of the way to unlock it. He had barely stepped inside when I was throwing my arms around him. The sound he made was one of surprise, but instinct took over, and his arms wrapped around me before I could even breathe.
“You were worried for me, little rabbit?” I nodded before looking up at him.
Our eyes met, and that was all the permission he needed before his lips claimed mine, as though he could wait no longer.
I didn’t know how long it was before he was lifting me easily off my feet, making his intentions known.
Especially as he kicked the door shut before he made his way over to the bed.
Though I knew that if we got there, then I wouldn’t get the answers I needed.
“Wait…I need to…”
“I need you.” He finished, and I sighed into him, before my voice became beseeching,
“Please, Vas, I need to know… who was that woman in your bed?” he faltered in his step and slowly put me down before repeating,
“My bed?”
“Yes,” I replied softly, hating how vulnerable I sounded.
“That wasn’t my bed,” he replied, after shaking his head. The quiet authority in his tone stopped my turbulent mind in its tracks. I blinked, my mouth parting as I tried to catch up.
“What do you mean?”
He took a step toward me, his movements slow, as if he was afraid that any sudden action might drive me away.
“What you heard… that woman… who do you think she is?” he said carefully.
“I thought I heard the witch,” I confessed, and he looked shocked.
“The witch?” he repeated as if needing me to confirm my assumptions. I frowned, my heart pounding faster, though I couldn’t explain why.
“If not her, then who is she?” He hesitated, and for the first time, I saw something flicker behind his eyes that looked almost like guilt… or maybe sorrow. His fingers flexed at his sides, his control visibly slipping.
“She doesn’t belong to this world anymore,” he said quietly, before adding,
“And she hasn’t for a very long time.”
I stared at him, my mind reeling.
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re not meant to,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the truth was too heavy to look at.
“Not yet.” I shook my head, telling him without words that I still didn’t understand.
“I told you once this house holds things better left unseen,” he said, and again, his tone was low, almost a whisper. He looked up then, and for the first time since I had met him, I saw something unguarded.
“And she is one of them,” he said, his voice breaking just slightly.
His words lingered in the air, dark and unfinished, and the unease twisting in my stomach told me that whatever he wasn’t saying was far worse than anything I could imagine. I straightened slowly, my hands wringing in the hem of my top.
“You’re going to have to explain this to me,” I said, my voice trembling but firm.
“All of it. Because I’m done guessing.” His eyes flicked up, the faintest spark of amusement behind the exhaustion that lingered there.
“Explain what exactly?”
“What happened?” I pressed, stepping closer.
“What tore your family apart? Why do you hate your brothers so much? And why…” I paused and swallowed hard before meeting his gaze.
“…Why do you want the dagger so badly?” At that, he scoffed quietly, the sound sharp in the hush of the room.
He turned away from me, one hand dragging through his damp hair, before gesturing vaguely toward the chair beside the fire.
One he ignited with nothing more than a nod of his head, quickly making it roar to life.
The flames couldn’t chase away the chill his words had left behind
“Sit,” he said, his tone rough but not unkind.
“If I’m to relive this story, we might as well be comfortable while doing so.” I hesitated for only a moment before taking the seat opposite him. He stood for a time, his gaze lost in the dancing flames, before finally speaking.
“In my family…” he began slowly,
“… Like I told you, the dagger is more than an heirloom. It’s a symbol of power. Whoever holds it is not only the head of the house but the ruler of our sector. It was forged centuries ago, blessed, or cursed, depending on your perspective, by the blood goddess herself.”
His voice grew quieter as he continued, a strange reverence threading through it.
“For generations, it has passed from father to son, from king to heir.” He finally looked at me then, and the weight of his gaze pinned me in place.
“It had nothing to do with choice or opinion; it was birthright. We were triplets, but I was the firstborn, and that made all the difference.” For a moment, I thought I’d misheard him.
“Triplets?”
He gave a small, bitter smile.
“Ah, they never told you that part, did they?” I shook my head, my mind spinning.
“No. They didn’t even tell me they had a brother. Why would they keep that from me?” He turned back toward the fire, his shoulders tense.
“Most likely because they thought I was dead,” he said.
“Or at least, they hoped I was.” The words hit me like a blow.
“Why would they think that?” He glanced over his shoulder, and the look in his eyes was enough to make my heart ache.
“Because that’s what I wanted them to believe after… well, after they tried to kill me,” he said, making me gasp.
“They tried to kill you!” The room seemed to shrink around us, heavy with the weight of his family’s dark and tangled past.
“And now you are finally starting to understand my need for revenge.”
“But why… I still don’t understand… why did they try to kill you, Vas?
” He exhaled a long breath, as though releasing the weight of decades.
His gaze drifted back to the fire, watching the flames curl and twist. When he finally spoke again, his voice was lower, quieter, almost reluctant. Until finally he told me,
“They tried to kill me because…”
“Because…I killed our father.”