Chapter 10 #2
“Yes, you,” I said with a sigh, lowering Georgie onto the floor. As if lost in a deep sleep, her features were settled in a silent expression.
The guy nodded, then with a quick tug, freed his shirt from his head, handing it to me. His fingers brushed against mine, and my head drew back, eyes rounding.
As I blinked, I felt a peculiar detachment, and I observed my body as if I were a wandering ghost. I lay on the chamber floor, my chest a gaping wound, and my heart a bloody mess beside me.
A crimson river of blood snaked its way across the floor, originating from the cavernous wound in my rib cage and pooling around the still-beating organ that had been ripped from my body.
I watched, a detached observer, as the life slowly ebbed away, the last vestiges of my existence slipping away into the encroaching darkness.
A single, ragged breath evaded my lips, and then, silence.
The vision flashed before my eyes, and its intensity filled me with unease. Before I could ask anything, the redhead knelt and whispered in my ear. “The trials are the least of your concern. Listen to the Shadow and obey its command if you value your life.”
And just like that, he ripped away from me, his shirt hanging between my fingers. How the hell did he know about the Shadow? I assumed it was the same way he knew about the number of people who will perish today.
My lips settled into a straight line.
The trials are the least of your concern. In my view, the trials appeared to be the greatest of my concerns. I needed to understand what other details he had.
I cleared my throat. “How did you know?” I asked, my voice low.
He frowned at me, the way he did before the trial had started. “What are you talking about?”
His bewildered expression returned, even as my eyes searched for evidence that he had no idea what he had just whispered in my ear.
“Nothing. Thank you for the shirt.”
I bit down on the inside of my lip, a nervous habit, as I dressed Georgie.
My intention had been to forget the Shadow encounter, but the redhead’s vision irrevocably changed everything.
My brutal, gruesome death wasn’t the only reason for that.
Unlike the Shadow, the guy had no ties to the world of the gods, and somehow that made it easier for me to believe him.
As I finished placing the T-shirt on Georgie, a chill ran down my spine, and I hugged myself to ward off the cold.
“You can have mine.” Theo’s voice startled me from behind, and as I turned, I saw him staring with broken glasses perched on his nose and a T-shirt clutched in his hands. “Do you need help?” He pointed at the scratchy, shapeless improvisation bunched on my torso.
I nodded, and with a gentle tug, he helped me remove the clingy clothing before I put on his shirt. “Thanks,” I said, chin lifting toward his face. “What happened to your glasses? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It was just . . . the forest. You’ve seen what it can do. Georgie was lucky to have you.”
At that, my eyes searched the crowd for Yvonne. Where was she? Did she not make it back? Was she among the three deaths?
A wave of relief washed over me as I saw her in the distance, tucked away in a corner, lost in thought as she sat with her elbows resting on her knees. I could only assume the horrors that she had been through.
I got to my feet and walked to her, pressing a hand on her shoulder. She barely acknowledged my presence, her gaze distant, as if I were invisible.
“Yvonne?” I tried. “I thought you’d like to see Georgie.”
Her head snapped. “Georgie? But I saw her die. She’s alive?”
My heart softened. That’s what she must’ve seen in the forest. “Yes, she’s unconscious, but alive.”
She sprung up onto her feet, running past me and dropping on her knees next to her girlfriend. “Oh my god. Georgie?”
A silent understanding passed between Theo and me as we stepped aside, giving them some space.
“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I would’ve told you if I realized it sooner—”
He offered a faint smile. “I know. It’s okay.”
I bobbed my head. “Not that helpful, though.”
Theo looks down at both of us, biting the corner of his lips. “I figured. You look worse than I do and I had a handful of that wine,” he tried to joke, but it came out sour; none of us laughing.
“Did you see Hunter on your way out?” Draven appeared in front of me, jaw tight.
“Or Zachary?” Nicolas asked.
I looked down at my feet and offered them the only answer I could manage—a shake of my head.
Draven hissed and left without another word, while Nicolas stood there frozen as if the world ended right there for him. He’d lost his brother. His twin. I wanted to comfort him, but did anything have the power to soothe him in this moment?
“I’m sorry, Nicolas.”
As some grappled with the pain of losing someone, I realized no one asked about Arianna.
Later that night, I wandered the dimly lit hall of our chambers and halted before Georgie’s door.
The need for rest tugged at me, but I could not give in to it.
Every time I closed my eyes, I was haunted by Arianna’s final breath, Georgie’s bruised lips as she spoke, and the chilling image of my deceased mother.
And whenever I tried to escape those memories, the Shadow’s instructions and its presence reverberated in my mind.
Since my arrival, I had dreamed and envisioned scenes in my mind. I had not been able to do it for so long, I forgot how ordinary it was.
Instead of allowing myself to rot in bed, consumed by the relentless pace of my thoughts, I chose to find something constructive to occupy my time—to check on Georgie and see how she felt.
I knocked on her door three times, each thud following a steady rhythm and waited. My foot drummed on the ground, and I winced as the fresh wounds on my legs complained.
After a moment of stillness, I knocked again, the sound echoing in the quiet. My brows furrowed.
Why wasn’t she answering? Was she unwell?
“Georgie? It’s Charisma. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
The door creaked open, darkness swimming from Yvonne’s figure as she stepped out of the room, throwing one last glance behind before closing the door as silently as possible. She threaded a hand through her hair, motioning toward a bench.
“She’s sleeping,” Yvonne explained as we sat down. Her eyes scanned me for a moment. “I forgot to thank you for what you did. She’s alive because of you, Charisma.”
I almost snorted. “I think I’m alive because of her.”
“What do you mean?”
My shoulders rose into a shrug, my fingers playing with the laces of a boot as I dragged my foot up on the bench.
“I was ready to give up.” A gulp found its way into my throat, and my cheeks grew hot, but when I looked at Yvonne, she didn’t seem to judge me for saying that.
“For a second, I didn’t remember why I was fighting so hard, and when I saw Georgie, she reminded me that you and her daughter were waiting for her. ”
Yvonne nodded. “It was the only reason I kept going after we lost each other in the forest.” She paused, perhaps seeing something on my face. “Who’s waiting for you at home?”
Tears swelled in my eyes. I pushed them away. “My mother.”
She placed a hand on my shoulder, meeting my eyes. “Next time you feel like giving up, think about her.”
I wanted to say that I had, that for a short moment, in the deepest part of my mind, thought she’d be better off without me. Instead, I kept quiet, keeping it to myself.
“How is she?”
Yvonne released a breath. “Better—if you don’t count the nightmares. She wanted to come see you and thank you in person, but she was too weak. Hopefully, she’ll heal before the next trial.”
“And Nicolas? Did you see him around?”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Theo tried twice, but he wouldn’t open his door.”
At that, my chest constricted with a heavy, sinking feeling. Twins have always been known for a connection that exceeded a superficial resemblance, and I couldn’t fathom how empty Nicolas must feel without his other half.
I wondered . . . if I knew for certain that my mother had died, would I still fight to win? I didn’t think so, but I hoped with all my might that Nicolas wouldn’t give up on himself. But then, was it better to battle until you perished, or to surrender and brace yourself for the inevitable?
“Tell Georgie I say hi,” I said in an attempt to escape my mind before standing up.
“I will. Thank you again, we’ll be forever in your debt.”
“Nonsense.” I shook my head. “I did what I thought any decent human would do.”
“Not Draven, though,” Yvonne retorted, her fists clenching beside her body.
“What?”
“Georgie told me he passed by and didn’t even spare her a second glance.”
That son of a bitch.
“Well, like I said, I did what I thought any decent human would do.”
A ghost of a smile spread on her lips, as she moved toward Georgie’s door. “Good night, Charisma.”
“Good night.”
I walked toward my room, and the door’s click, followed by a soft shutting sound, echoed behind me. As I passed Draven’s room, I flipped him off, but the gesture didn’t ease my frustration.
Moron. I hoped he would rot in hell—no, in the Underworld, since apparently Hell didn’t exist.
Annoyed, I scoffed and entered my room, the door latching shut behind me. Before I could collapse onto the bed, the sight of a red velvet box elegantly secured with a crimson ribbon caught my attention. I moved my fingers over the fancy package, stealing a glance at 226688.
“What is this?”
He came to me, clapping his hands. “Open it!”
My face twisted into a reluctant expression. I untied the ribbon and with a soft click, unclasped the box’s magnetic catch, then lifted the lid. Inside, I found a neatly written note, and the crisp paper made a soft sound as I picked it up.
My mind spun. The letter and gift were, without a doubt, sent by the god with the ravishing, blond hair I met the other night, and yet, that was not the source of my uneasiness.
He was the God of Love—the deity I was supposed to pretend to be in love with. My fingertips curled on the paper as a fleeting thought passed through my head.
With those looks, feigning affection for him would be effortless.
I recoiled at the thought like jerking back from a hot stove. No, it wouldn’t be easy. Not with his smart mouth and the smugness he carried himself with.
“Well? What is it?”
My eyes moved to 226688. “Was he in my room?”
“Yes! You just missed him.” He made it sound like his presence in my room was a privilege.
Arrogant prick.
I closed the box, ignoring the urge to peek even as a tiny spark of curiosity kindled at my fingertips, then shoved it under the bed.
“How can you be so unfazed?” The fairy flew to me when I dropped onto the bed. My wounded legs ached for the creams, but I fought the impulse. “You know, if you want anyone to believe you’re in love with him, you’re doing a terrible job at it.”
“He said the gift was to be a secret between us. No one will know I didn’t use what he sent me,” I reasoned.
“You have to make him believe as well, and if he sees your injuries are not any better, he’ll suspect otherwise—”
“Fine,” I snapped, throwing my legs off the bed and reaching underneath for the box.
I was secretly pleased that I had to use the cream because of the fairy’s reasoning and not because I wanted to—the truth was, I wished for nothing more than to feel this throbbing pain to go away.
With a performance worthy of an award, I huffed and puffed as I opened the box and ointment and pretended not to notice the coolness of the cream bringing relief to my wound. I bit my tongue, gritting my teeth to keep a moan from escaping.
As my eyes fluttered open—which I wasn’t aware I had closed—I observed my wounds, now ghostly white, appearing as if months had passed since the injury.
“Marvelous, right?” He wiggled his brows, smiling with half of his mouth.
I took the container of cream, searching for its name, but there wasn’t any label on it. “What the hell is in this?”
“Something that was so risky to obtain that the only proper way to thank him would be on your knees!” 226688 laughed at his own joke, touching his belly as his head reared back.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that good.”
“Isn’t it?”
I paused, and that brief moment of contemplation was all he needed to assume I agreed, and he regaled the room with another joyous laugh. To my surprise, my own lips curved into a smile.