Chapter 12 – Alex
Chapter Twelve
ALEX
“Alexander!” my father’s voice booms throughout my chambers, and unfortunately, I am sober enough to wince at his tone.
“I’ll be right out!” I yell from the bathing room, taking a moment to splash my face with ice-cold water. I look terrible, but there’s not much I can do about it. My head is pounding from the overindulgence of alcohol last night, and the call of vespira root has been hard to ignore.
I’ve been careful to hide it, only partaking in my rooms when I’m alone. The last thing I need is more judgment.
“If you don’t get your arse out here in the next five seconds, I am coming in!” he thunders.
I dry my face with a towel and push the door open.
My father’s eyes rove over me with disgust, taking in the wrinkled pants and my torn tunic that hangs untucked. I’m even sporting a black eye from some dick of a lord who didn’t like how his woman was looking at me last night.
“What in the realms is wrong with you?” Father seethes. “You were meant to attend our meeting with the king this morning, and here I find you wearing last night’s clothes, flaunting bruised knuckles, looking like you’ve been in a brawl?”
I try not to grin. The lord in question might have two black eyes. Women aren’t property, and I might have yelled as much.
“Why haven’t you been to a healer?” he continues. “Your eye is nearly swollen shut!”
I drop into one of my favorite chairs and reach for the glass of liquor I left out. Anything to make this headache stop. Before my fingers even touch it, my father brushes the glass off the table and it shatters on the floor.
“What the hells?” I complain.
“If you do not get yourself together, I’m going to rethink your place here.”
“Fine by me!” I glare up at him, the man I resemble to a T.
He looks like I slapped him. “You mean that.”
“Must you always do that?” I complain. “Must you always read me?”
“Hard to ignore when you wear your heart on your sleeve,” he retorts.
I palm my face. This was not how I wanted to break it to him, but how much worse can things get? “I don’t want to do what you do,” I blurt out.
My father takes a step back. I hate that I’ve become such a disappointment to him.
“It’s the hangover talking,” he says. “You couldn’t possibly throw away your future, one I have worked so hard for. It’s one thing to put off marriage, but this is far bigger than that.”
“I don’t want it!” I grit out. “I’ve never wanted it. I don’t want to take over for you and work for King Silenius or Prince Colin when he takes over.”
Perhaps if Kian were the heir, I’d consider it, but Colin is as insufferable as his father.
The throbbing in my head is unbearable, and the need to make it go away with my pipe beats incessantly in my mind.
“What do you want?” he finally asks after the deafening silence. When I don’t respond, he drags another chair closer and sits across from me.
I meet his stern gaze, expecting anger, but I’m met with deep sadness instead.
“Alexander, there is nothing I want more than for my children to be happy. I thought you found that here, but what I see in front of me is a man hells-bent on destroying himself. What I don’t understand is why.”
I shrug, hating that no matter how I answer, he will peel the truth from the lies, exposing realities I’m not ready to accept.
“I believe I have been more than gracious with you,” he continues, “but if things don’t change, I will send you home.
If you truly no longer wish to work for the king and are unable to come up with an alternate plan for your future, I’ll also remove your access to my accounts.
I will not have you waste precious coin on a life of debauchery when you were meant for so much more. ”
“Do what you must,” I mutter, sinking despair creeping over me. It’s a damned good thing he doesn’t know about the vespira root or I’d probably be on my way back to Maardune today.
“I don’t want this,” he insists, rising from his seat and heading toward the door. “I expect you to come to me with a plan by the end of this season or I will choose for you. But things will not continue the way they have, for your own good.”
“Yes, sir,” I respond, giving him a mock salute.
He mutters something that sounds like a curse before he closes the door firmly behind him.
I suck in a breath and stare up at the ceiling, my swollen eye making things fuzzy. Shit. I should probably get this looked at, but first . . .
I dig into my pocket for my pipe.
I lose myself to the vespira root. Life is easier when I don’t have to think about my pain.
When I don’t have to think about what I’ve lost. Father’s threat to cut me off went into effect two months after our conversation, and the looming prospect of being sent home grows ever closer.
I’m a disappointment to everyone. Maybe it’ll be for the best.
With Rae and Kian’s extended absence, it’s been harder to keep track of Sera. I can’t help but wonder if she’ll leave again. Every blonde maid I spot sends my heart racing, but it’s never her.
I still hide piles of clothing and blankets in the gardens, just in case she might need them, but I’ve yet to catch her.
The longing for her is so fierce, the only thing that takes the edge off is the damned vespira. I hate myself for my weakness.
My door slams open with a bang, and Kian blazes into my chambers with a wide grin. “Alex, we’re ba—” He pulls up short.
Shit. Too late to hide it now. I know my best friend well enough to read the shock and concern written all over his face before it morphs into anger.
“What in the hells is wrong with you?” he nearly explodes.
I take another puff from my pipe and give him a lazy smile. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is perfect, don’t you know?”
Kian stalks over, grabbing the pipe from my fingers, then sniffs at it and holds it up to my face, his anger shifting to horror. “Vespira root? Really? Since when do you fill your body with this toxic shit?” He grimaces before throwing it in the fire.
“Why’d you have to go and do that? That was my favorite pipe,” I complain. My stash of coin is almost completely spent.
“It’s for your own damned good,” he retorts, coughing when the scent of the burning vespira intensifies in the fireplace.
“Mind your own business,” I groan.
Kian pokes me in the chest. “Get a hold of yourself, Alex. I know I’ve been gone, but surely there is no excuse for this. What in the hells did I miss? Why would you destroy yourself from the inside out?”
I palm my face, rubbing at my eyes and the headache that’s forming behind them. “I don’t know why you care. You have Rae. I’m sure you didn’t miss me.” I hate myself just a little more for the self-pity in that statement.
“That’s a lie and you know it. Look, I’m sorry my father’s business kept us away so long. I should have reached out. What happened? I feel like a shitty friend for having no idea what you’ve been going through.”
“I’ve lost everything, Ki . . . I—” My voice cracks as the reality of it all crashes in once more.
Kian sighs and lays a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You haven’t lost me. I might be mad as hells, but you will never lose me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I need you. We all do.”
His words are a balm and a curse. I want to be worthy of him and his friendship, but the voice in my head screaming you’re worthless is loud.
“You don’t mean that,” I mutter.
Pain is etched all over Kian’s face, making me want to be better for him.
“I mean every word,” he says. “And even though she might not admit it, I’m sure Sera cares about you and needs you too.”
I scoff. “That girl has never needed me. She’s made it abundantly clear she wants nothing to do with me or my pathetic attempts at help.”
“But she came back. Surely that means something.”
“She’s returned to ignoring me after catching me in bed with another woman.”
“Gods, save us,” Kian mumbles. “What, so you’ll just spend the rest of your days slowly killing yourself instead of fixing things?”
I plaster on a fake smile. “It’s not been too bad so far.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re a disaster. Don’t make me sic Ambassador Grey on you.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I seethe, suddenly angry he would threaten that. He doesn’t need to know my father is already well aware of my downfall.
Kian gets in my face, eyes burning. “You’re my best friend. I will not sit by and watch you destroy yourself. I will go Shadow on your ass if I have to.”
I shake my head. “Don’t waste your time on me.”
“You’re not a waste, and you obviously need help.”
I groan. “Whatever. I’m done with vespira. You burned the last of it anyway. Happy?” Just the thought of giving it up has me feeling twitchy, but Kian is right. I can’t keep going like this.
“I want to believe you, but it only takes one time for that shit to dig its claws in, Alex, and from the looks of things, it’s been more than that.
” He runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head.
“I do want to help you though. Sober up and meet me in the training room in an hour. If you’re not present, I’ll drag you there myself. ”
I wake up in a cold sweat again, nausea rising.
Fuck. I stumble out of bed and race into my bathing chamber, heaving the entirety of my stomach’s contents into a pot.
I clutch the cool side of it, cursing every ounce of vespira root I’ve inhaled over the past few months.
I continue retching, feeling like my head might explode from the pressure of it.
Hells. I had no idea the withdrawal would continue to be this bad.
It’s been four weeks of trying to rid myself of this addiction.
My entire body shakes, and I lie back on the cold stone floor.
Tears leak from my eyes. I hate being so weak.
I thought I would die the first time Kian made me spar with him, my body unused to it after so many months of inactivity and laziness.
Not only did my muscles ache with soreness, but after a few days of abstaining from the drug, the withdrawals hit me hard.
That was the first time I gave in. Just a little to take the edge off, but the self-loathing knew no bounds.
Kian continues to drag me to the sparring ring, the battle for control over my body—my mind—unending.
Would he go easier on me if he knew how bad it was?
How giving in results in me shaking, vomiting, and aching on the floor?
I can’t tell him. I did this to myself. I’m fully aware these are the consequences of my actions and it would only disappoint him further.
Maybe I did this too quickly. I should have weaned myself off it slower. The all-consuming thought of vespira eats at my body, my mind. Is it really that bad?
Forcing myself to my feet, I go to my closet and search every single pocket. There has to be something left somewhere. The pile of clothes on the floor grows as I cry out at the drug that eludes me. I hate this. I hate myself.
Dropping to my knees, I’m eye level with a row of shiny boots. I grab a pair and turn them upside down, crowing with excitement when a tiny sachet lands on the floor. It must have fallen from one of my coats.
Just the thought of relief fills me with a sense of rightness. This is what I need. It will help. It’s only a small amount; it can’t possibly hurt me worse than I’m hurting now.
The battle already lost, I give in once again.