Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Cage d
My body feels like it’s floating. As if I am nothing more than a speck in the sky, floating along with all of the other specks and stars. Floating with the other planets and universes. No desires or needs. No fears or sadness. Just existing to exist. But that isn’t what is happening.
I wish I was just existing to exist.
It would be better than the alternative.
Better than the unknown.
Better than the pain that has followed me since the day I left Chatis. The pain that is a permanent reminder that happiness has never been in the cards for me. Fate has made sure of that.
My eyes flutter open, sunlight blinding me. I blink a few times, begging my eyes to adjust to the harsh light. Puffy white clouds and bright blue skies greet me. Birds fly overhead, trees rustle in the summer wind. It’s quiet, calm. It almost feels surreal.
Am I dead?
Peace. This is what peace looks like. What I imagine the afterlife would be. What I imagine my mother is experiencing wherever she is.
What Theo is experiencing.
Something shifts below me, and I freeze, my eyes slowly panning over to the man sitting next to me.
His skin is tan, golden and slightly olive, as if he spends his time in the sun.
His dark hair is tousled, as if he is constantly running his hands through it.
His skin is flawless and smooth aside from a long scar that goes from his high cheekbone, through his eye, and up into his dark brow.
It’s a soft, flesh color, indicating it wasn’t recent.
His eyes are closed, his long lashes fluttering against his cheek.
My eyes trail to his plush lips, perfectly framed and rosy.
His jaw is hardened and sharp, with a spattering of dark facial hair; short and well-groomed. He is attractive, almost too perfect.
As if he is just as fake as the woods around me.
His chest is moving up and down, slowly and evenly as he sleeps.
Every breath bathes me in the citrusy scent of bergamot, reminding me of summer.
Reminding me of happier times. His tunic is a deep blue, cut close to his chest before disappearing under me, revealing the broad shoulders and defined muscles underneath.
A black cloak is wrapped around me, fastened tight.
My head is lying in his lap, one of his hands resting on my hair, his fingers locked into the strands around the crown as if he was holding me still.
His other hand is resting on my stomach, almost protectively.
His forearms are thick, corded muscles tensing as if he’s dreaming of something unpleasant.
My breath catches as his warmth seeps into my skin, burning through the wool wrapped around me.
It's too much. Too much touching. Too intimate.
My pulse skips and I fight to keep my breath even as panic courses through my veins. My limbs burn as if they are igniting, as if they are reacting to my fear.
I shift slightly and he flinches. I sit up quickly, attempting to create some distance, and his arms pull away.
All I see are trees as my head spins, pain encompassing my senses.
I gasp as I clutch at my leg, digging my fingers into the flesh.
I pull the cloak back and see a bright red burn across my thigh.
The skin is mottled and blistered; dried blood caked around it.
It’s on fire, a clear liquid dripping out of it.
“What the—” I whisper, barely loud enough to hear as I grit my teeth to fight the scream tearing at my throat.
“Your wound—it was too deep. We had to stop the bleeding.” His voice is deep and rich, but smooth as it infests my very bones.
It’s a sound I could get lost in if he wasn’t a stranger.
I take a deep breath, fighting the panic clogging my throat.
In and out, Elaenor. Breathe. I look around and see that we are in a tiny clearing, tall trunks and falling leaves circling us as if to keep us from harm.
My vision edges black as I take another deep breath.
I visualize putting the pain into a little box, shutting the lid, and locking it.
I take a slower breath this time, my tense shoulders relaxing a fraction.
“Where am I?” I ask. My voice is clear, bright, as if I haven’t spent the last few days locked away; screaming and crying as a blade sliced into me, or as another guard entered me without consent. As if I wasn’t just gritting my teeth in pain. My voice sounds as if it belongs to someone else.
“We are about an hour away from the Chatisian border.” He responds, slowly and carefully, as if he’s afraid I might do something. He hasn’t moved, his body frozen, statuesque. Almost inhuman.
“What happened?” I don’t remember much. I remember Tobias and this need to explode.
This need to just scream and release all of the pain and fury I have been bottling up for nearly two decades.
I remember his neck…it healed itself. His skin stitched itself back together as he admitted he’d been healing me .
I remember amethyst and emerald. I remember thinking I was going to die. I remember the beast standing over me .
I remember feeling relief at the idea that it was the end. I remember a beast crouching over me—and then nothing.
“I am not entirely sure what happened before we got there, but you are out of the Noterran palace.” He responds, almost diplomatically, without emotion.
I don’t know who he is, but he had to have grown up with some sort of status.
He doesn’t speak like a villager. He speaks like a Lord.
My eyes fixate on the trees as I process. As I try to understand.
“This is real?” I whisper, afraid to raise my voice any higher.
I feel as if the lump growing in my throat would prevent it.
The lump building out of fear that this is just a dream and I’ll wake back up underground, strapped to the table.
There is no way this can be real. Just another false reality to fill my mind to protect me from the horrors I’m facing.
“This is real.” He repeats. I look over my shoulder at him, his amethyst eyes making my eyes widen and my lips part. So light and so bright at the same time. So familiar .
“Your eyes…the color—”
“Elaenor.” I quickly spin around, rocks digging into my backside, as another person breaks through the tree line, his deep voice echoing around the clearing.
Tall, tan, with freckles across his nose.
A sharp jaw and wide shoulders. Bushy eyebrows and thick eyelashes.
But those aren’t what surprise me. It’s the bioluminescent green living in his irises.
The green I have seen before so many times.
A green that feels like home.
“Enzo.” I whisper. His eyes are wary, gentle and careful as if he is afraid to scare me off. As if he’s afraid I’m going to run.
He might be right.
Relief at knowing he is real, at seeing him in person, quickly fades away as rage fills my body. As anger and resentment boil to the surface.
They had months, months , to come for me. Months to offer some aid aside from disappearing completely and making me feel mad. Making me feel as if he never existed. But they never came. He disappeared and left me alone.
Alone and suffering .
“You left me. You disappeared without a trace. Why now? Why did you come for me now ? Why did you wait until I was tortured and raped and—” My voice catches and I clear my throat before meeting his gaze.
His brows twitch and lips purse as if he’s confused by my question.
As if he doesn’t know how to respond. He cocks his head to the side slightly and takes a deep breath before responding.
“We were always going to come for you, Elaenor.” The stranger says from behind.
I force myself to my feet, swaying slightly and gasping in pain, before turning away from them.
My wounded feet protest as they step on rocks and branches, the pain oddly familiar.
My leg is cramping, and I feel this weird pressure in my chest, but I keep walking until I cross through the tree line, no plan in sight.
“Where are you going?” Enzo calls after me, his voice irritated, as if I am the one who’s the issue here.
“I didn’t need your help. I didn’t need your rescue. I was done .” I spit as I pick up my pace. I fight the nausea in my stomach, the burn slicing through my skin. I’m going to faint. Why am I so angry? None of this is their fault.
“Done?” The other man responds. Their footsteps trail after me, but they don’t stop my walking. They don’t attempt to restrain me, which I weirdly find nice and unexpected.
“I was done. With everything . I was ready for it to be over, and you took that away from me.” My voice cracks again and I cough.
I don’t have time to break down. I don’t have time for anything.
A hand grips my arm and spins me around, making me dizzy.
Green eyes bore into mine as he gets close.
His breath fans across my face and I flinch at his proximity.
“You don’t get to kill yourself. You don’t get to be done. Too much is dependent on your survival. So stop throwing a tantrum like a child and come back to Rakushia with us.” Anger brews in his eyes, his breath coming in quick, sharp pants. Surprise echoes around me.
“Excuse me?” I snap, attempting to rip my arm out of his grip, which proves unsuccessful. Terror builds in my chest as his grip tightens. “What do you mean too much is dependent on my survival?” Enzo’s eyes widen slightly and his friend sighs behind him.
“Right now, we just need to get back to Rakushia.” He says softer this time.
“No, right now, you are going to tell me what it is you mean.” I retort.
His nostrils flare and his grip tightens even more, pinching my skin.
“Let go of me.” I say quietly, but he doesn’t react.
The warmth from his hand is leaking through the cloak, soaking into my skin.
The pressure just reminds me of him. Of them .
No.
It’s too much.