Chapter 9 #2
“It’s just…he’s a bit more…tolerable when you’re around.” I shrug at the same time that Ryjax scoffs.
He reaches his hand behind his neck and squeezes. “I’m the intolerable one?”
“Also, allergic to honesty. If I were to make a list.”
“I’m as honest as I can be,” he says simply, as if that’s something I should just accept.
“Not good enough when my life is on the line.” My life. Not his.
How am I supposed to blindly trust someone I’ve only just met? Especially when that someone has a habit of eluding the truth.
He squeezes his neck tighter. “Oh, so now you care?”
“What do you mean now I care?”
“About your life, because last I checked, I had to save you, Serafina. When you decided you didn’t want to save yourself, when you decided to let them win, to let them kill you, I stepped in.”
My jaw drops.
When I decided to let them kill me? Is he kidding? Like I had a choice in the matter? And as usual, I see red. I see red because he may have been there that night, but clearly, he has no idea what fucking happened.
“You think I wanted to die? You think I could’ve fought back but didn’t?” I stand, taking a step toward him, feeling that same loss of control I’ve always felt, and I don’t know what words will leave my lips, but I do know he won’t like them.
“That’s exactly what I think.” His tone matches mine—sharp and heated—and clearly his temper does, too, as one would expect from a wielder of shadows.
And I love how easy it is for me to fall into this feeling.
This feeling of complete and utter hatred, and if anyone deserves it, my anger and my rage, it’s him.
Because he is the prince.
He represents all that I loathe, all that I despise. And gods do I love reveling in the storm of emotions raging inside me. The darkness battling with the light, making me feel alive.
“Well then, I suppose I should thank you then. So thank you, Ryjax. Thank you for coming to my rescue. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for delaying the inevitable. Thank you for allowing me even more time to think about my impending death.”
My words, my own words, cause my heart to lash out because of how true they are, and I’m only now just realizing it.
I may not have died the other night, but I will die. And thanks to him, I’ve been gifted an extra two months to envision just how gruesome it will be.
I will be a target in that arena come trial day, and if what happened the other night was any indication of how helpful being an Essentari will be…I don’t stand a chance. Like Char had said, I’ll never be able to control the fire.
I may be an Essentari, but I’m still weak. And I still feel powerless.
I shiver, and Ryjax’s eyes bounce between mine, his expression immediately softening, like he pities me, same as everyone else, but I don’t need his pity.
What I need is to wipe that look clean from his face, and I know the exact words that will do it.
“And besides,” I say, my voice low, my fingers flexing. “I never would have needed saving if it weren’t for the trials your family created.”
He flinches. Visibly flinches because he knows I’m right. If everyone was allowed to live, if we were all afforded the same privileges as those living within the Imperial City, then I never would have been targeted in the first place.
Ryjax says nothing. He just stares at me. Stares and breathes. Stares and breathes.
And I stare right on back.
“Oh, Serafina.” Ishla’s soft words finally break the silence, and I turn to her.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, as if she regrets speaking in the first place.
“I should go, but I will be back later with more food.” And then, she flees the room, leaving me alone with the one person who I do not want to be alone with.
He still doesn’t speak, and neither do I.
Finally, when the silence becomes absolutely unbearable, I cross my arms.
“I can’t exactly be the one to storm out of here.” I look around the room, at the four walls that will hold me prisoner for the next two months. “So if you wouldn’t mind making a dramatic exit on my behalf, I would appreciate it.”
The corner of his mouth tugs up, but only briefly.
“I don’t want to storm out of here, Serafina,” he says, his voice deep but quiet, and I find myself taking a small step toward him if only to hear him better.
“You’re right, you are in danger because of me, because of my family.
But you will not die in the trial. You’re an Essentari, and that will be a huge advantage. ”
“I can’t…” I bite my lip, having a hard time admitting the truth, admitting to him of all people how weak I am…it’s damn near soul crushing. “I can’t wield the fire. I…I tried the other night, and I…I wasn’t able to.”
His jaw flexes. “Then, let me help you.” The words tumble out of him, and I think his face must mirror mine.
His eyes go wide, like he can’t believe what he’s offered. But then he nods his head, like he’s forcing himself to accept what he’s said, forcing himself not to take it back. Although with the way I’ve been speaking to him, I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
“Based on what you’ve told me, I’m assuming your connection to the flames emerged not long ago?”
“When they first attacked me,” I say. “Earlier that same day.”
He tilts his head, his dark brows rising before scrunching together. “And you were able to call upon the flames multiple times?”
I nod.
“That’s…pretty unheard of.” He scratches his head as I try to make sense of his words.
“It’s not like I could hold the fire for long.”
His lips tighten, and he scratches his jaw. “The more you call upon your element, the stronger you’ll become. Your muscles will strengthen. Your body will adjust. I can show you what I’ve learned, teach you what made it easier for me when I first began wielding the light.”
He holds up his hand, and sunlight bursts from each of his fingers. Glorious beams of gold and orange, shooting out in lines, and I am transfixed, unable to look away.
He curls his fingers, and each ray bends in a dance that only he can control. He forms a fist with that same hand, and the sunlight disappears.
I force my jaw closed after realizing I’d allowed it to fall open. What he just did, what he can do…it’s nothing short of beautiful.
And he wants to help me.
He can help me.
But why does that make me want to pull out my hair? Rip it from the roots and embrace the pain? Why does pain seem more desirable than accepting what he’s offering?
Because it comes from a place of pity.
Because he’s a royal.
Because I’m stubborn.
But I do need his help.
I do need him.
And even though it goes against everything I believe in, accepting the help of a prince, this prince, someone I have always hated, I know I don’t really have a choice.
“Are you done saying stupid things?” I ask, my hands finding my hips, and his lips twitch again, letting me know he wants to smile. He wants to laugh.
But he won’t.
“Oh, I highly doubt I’ll ever be done with that. At least in your eyes.”
And before I can think better of it, I smile. For the very first time in his presence, I can feel myself relaxing, if only just barely.
“Then teach me,” I say, exhaling a long breath through my nose. “Teach me how to get a handle on this.” I raise my hand, turning my palm to the ceiling and forcing flames to emerge.
At first, nothing happens, which only makes me madder. I use that frustration to focus on manifesting the flames even more, and suddenly, they’re they are.
I look up at him, a proud smirk on my face, but his expression doesn’t match mine.
“What?” My flame disappears, and that familiar ache returns.
“You use anger to form your connection,” he notes.
“Is that wrong?”
“It’s not necessarily wrong, but it’s not good, either.” The concerned look doesn’t leave his face.
“I don’t understand why it matters,” I say flatly.
“It matters because you’re not the one in control. At least not completely, and control is extremely important for Pyroflames.”
“If I’m not the one in control, then who is?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Not who. What,” he emphasizes. “Did anyone ever teach you about where Essentari abilities comes from?”
I take some time to actually think about his question.
“I’ve only read a few brief books about the Essentari,” I begin, my voice steady even as my heart beats faster under his unwavering gaze.
“So I know the basics. I know that aside from Pyroflames and Luminaries, there are the Hydrokin who control water, the Aerothane who connect with air, the Terramancers who can move the earth, and the Umbrax who manipulate shadows. And then there are the hybrids, but very few are capable of harnessing the power of two elements, even though one stands before me now.” I cross my arms, and his eyes flicker between mine, his expression unreadable.
“Are you public about what you are?” I ask, unable to keep my curiosity at bay.
“Mostly,” he says, offering nothing but a simple shrug.
I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate. Of course, he doesn’t because he knows I already understand.
“They think you’re only a Luminarie.” I had originally thought the same. Until he used his shadows to conceal me. To quiet me. To keep me hidden.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Another question that I don’t actually need him to answer and fear creeps into my veins, spikey pricks that feel like they’ll never leave.
“You know why.”
“I don’t know much about the Essentari,” I say, and it’s the truth. I really don’t know much, but I’d like to.
“You know enough.”
“We share similarities with the elements we wield.” Just like fire, I run hot. My temper is often out of my control.
Of course, I’d be a Pyroflame of all things. We’re unstable, and some fear us because of it, but not as much as they fear the Umbrax. For in order to control the shadows, there must be a special kind of darkness living deep within your soul.
Whether that’s fact or myth, I do not know, and I’m not sure I want to know, not with one standing here before me.