Chapter 24 #2
As horrid as my father’s words had been, whatever Eva wrote will surely soothe my battered heart. I slump onto the bed, the letter crinkling faintly in my trembling hands as I break the seal.
I am extremely offended!
A chuckle escapes before I can stop it.
Ryker told me what happened! His version of events at least…. There better be no wine involved this time, or we really are going to have to discuss your drinking problem.
Anyway, my best friend finally experienced a kiss we’ve been talking about for years, and instead of running to me with an immediate report, you lock yourself in your room.
You’re lucky I’m so understanding, Ray. And because I am such a wonderful friend, I wanted to give you a gift that will hopefully make you feel better and remind you that you’re not alone. Never alone.
P.S. I know this probably isn’t the best time to think about your mother after what Peonica said.
She wouldn’t leave me alone until I swore I’d convince you she spoke out of frustration and didn’t mean half the things that came out of her mouth.
Just remember that no matter what, you still love your mother for the woman she was when she was with you.
P.P.S Also, I’m well aware your vendetta against that Chastity Warden is alive and thriving, so I think this surprise will still feel pretty timely.
I set the letter aside with care. Then I reach for the sleek black box beside it. My fingers hesitate over the lid for just a moment before I flip it open.
Inside is a whip unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Its length is a weave of black and crimson and the handle is carved from polished red wood, elegantly shaped for a perfect grip with subtle grooves designed to fit snugly in my hand.
Dark steel inlays spiral up the handle, their swirling patterns catching the light with a faint gleam. I shake my head in awe; it is a masterpiece of craftsmanship.
Along the length of the whip the sharp barbs glint, designed to tear through flesh at impact. At its tip, a cluster of razor-sharp metal shards form a wicked end. Beautiful. Lethal. Like a predator’s teeth.
My breath hitches as I pick it up, the weight solid yet perfectly balanced. My fingers slide over the handle, tracing the intricate carvings as my vision blurs with unshed tears.
It’s exquisite. It feels almost wrong to hold something so perfect, as if it belongs to someone greater than me.
Despite its lethal design, I notice the whip is ingeniously crafted for safe transport.
The barbs fold inward with a soft click.
In its stored state, it fits neatly into a reinforced leather case lined with protective fabric, ensuring it won’t damage anything, or anyone, unintentionally. The handle remains exposed, its red surface standing out like a signal of the power it holds. And the danger it promises.
Kaelzar clears his throat, and my head snaps up.
“Eva told me you’ve been waiting for your king to whip the Chastity Warden who hurt your mother,” he says, his voice steady but softer than usual. “And she told me why. She said that maybe now you’re strong enough to do it yourself.”
I brace myself, waiting for the inevitable smirk, the mocking edge I’ve come to expect. But when I meet his gaze, there’s no derision or amusement. Instead, a solemn weight lingers in his storm-gray eyes, a look I can only describe as respect.
My hand drifts to the scar above my brow, and this time I let my fingers trace its uneven edge instead of pretending it isn’t there. Kaelzar’s eyes follow the motion. There’s a question in them, but he doesn’t ask it.
“I got it the last time the Bleeding Moon appeared,” I say quietly.
“Fourteen years ago. My mother… she was sent to Rust Hollow of Viele when I was little. But she found a way to escape the walls of the encampments. She did it to steal food and bring it back to the starving women, but that wasn’t all.
Every night, she’d climb the walls of our manor, slipping into my room, spinning stories about why the sun didn’t like her.
‘It only lets me come at night,’ she’d say.
And I believed her.” A sad smile tugs at my lips, the memory bittersweet.
“I was so little… I didn’t know better. My father didn’t take her betrayal well,” I continue, each word heavier than the last. “He drank. And when he’d had enough, he’d lash out at whoever was nearby.
I learned to stay away when I heard that first cork pop. ”
I swallow, the burn in my eyes a painful reminder of the wounds I’ve hidden so carefully.
I hesitate, questioning the wisdom of sharing this with Kaelzar of all people.
But then I find myself continuing the story I’ve only ever shared with Eva, drawn out by the steady, intent silence he offers me.
I can see the flicker of rage in his eyes at what he already senses is coming, held carefully in check.
“I missed her so much that on the morning of my seventh birthday, I thought… maybe I was old enough to ask him to take me to see her.” My voice cracks, but I press on, the words spilling out like water breaching a dam.
“I went to his study, and I saw the bottle, half-empty. I should have known better, but….”
I break off, my throat tight, the memory raw.
“He had his back turned to me. I thought it would be safe to ask if I didn’t have to look him in the eyes.
I said I wanted to go to Rust Hollow as my birthday present.
Before I could finish, he turned and threw his glass.
He aimed for the wall, I think. But I still remember the shatter, the burn of the liquor in my eyes, the way my vision blurred with blood. And then… he grabbed me.”
Kaelzar shifts, and when our eyes meet, the sunshine catches something murderous in his gaze, a fury held together by a fraying thread. But a moment later, it’s gone, buried beneath the practiced calm of his posture.
Taking a deep breath, I continue. “He shoved me into an empty cabinet in his study. Called me an unworthy spawn, said I was a child of a… of a whore.”
My voice falls to a whisper, each word carrying the weight of years of silence.
“I stayed in that cabinet even as my body ached, even as I soiled myself, even as my stomach felt like it was being carved open from hunger. I stayed there until the servants found me the next day. They told me I was safe, that I was okay. But I knew I wasn’t. ”
I pause, biting my lips to stop them from trembling. A gentle touch brushes against my cheek, swiping away a tear. I look up, to find Kaelzar is beside me, standing close, his face softer than I’ve ever seen it.
For a moment, he’s utterly still.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry you ever felt unworthy. You’re strong, Raylane, braver than anyone I’ve ever met. And if I ever have the chance to meet your father, I’ll make him beg for your forgiveness on his knees.”
His thumb runs over the scar on my brow, the touch light, reverent.
A weak, trembling breath escapes me, and somehow, a smile finds its way to my lips. “That would be a sight to behold.”
His gaze doesn’t falter, stormy eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that makes my heart ache in a way I hadn’t expected. I feel seen, truly seen.
The layers I’ve wrapped around myself fall away under the weight of his regard. But then he steps back, clearing his throat, retreating into himself.
“Did you see her again?” His voice carries a cautious softness, like he’s afraid of what my answer might be.
A breath shudders through me. I nod slowly. “She came the next day.”
The aching memory crashes over me. “I was still so hurt. I’d spent the day convincing myself maybe Father had a reason to be that cruel. Maybe she wasn’t a good person after all.”
I force the words out, though they scrape raw. “So when she came to see me, I told her I was embarrassed of her. That I wished she wasn’t my mother. That she should never come back.”
The image flickers behind my eyes, her face, the tears streaking down it. I look away.
“She didn’t argue or try to explain herself. She just turned around, told me she loved me and left.”
A long silence wraps around us.
“She never came back.”
The ache sharpens, hollow and deep. “Some days, I wondered if I was wrong to throw those words in her face. Other days, when my father lost his temper again, I told myself I did the right thing. That she’d abandoned me anyway.”
My fingers tighten into fists. “For years, I tried to believe she wasn’t worth wondering about. That I should be a better daughter to my father instead. But nothing I ever did made him forgive me for being her child.”
I swallow, throat thick. “When I turned fifteen, I met Ryker….”
Disquiet burns through me at the feel of his name on my lips with Kaelzar so close. I shift slightly, putting a little more space between us, my gaze falling to my lap.
He doesn’t speak, but it only makes the knot in my chest twist tighter.
“I’ve lived with the royal family ever since,” I murmur. “And the longer I was away from my father the clearer things became. I started to wonder. Maybe my mother had her reasons. Maybe I was now brave enough to look for her.”
Another breath rattles my chest, this one jagged.
“But it was too late. I went to Rust Hollow and learned that the night she visited me, after she left, she was caught.” My voice thins.
“They whipped her to death. She must have been too distraught to be careful.” My hands are trembling.
“No one knows what they did with her body. The Chastity Warden who did it, had a spider tattoo on his neck. That’s all I know. ”
The words feel torn from some locked place inside me. I swallow again, unsettled by how much I’ve said. Of how exposed I suddenly feel.
“But I’ve never been able to find him.”
Kaelzar’s shoulders stiffen. Anger radiates off him. “None of them are worthy of you,” he says, his voice rough, like it’s been dragged from the darkest part of him. “Not your bastard of a father, not the king who left you to suffer, not this kingdom that failed you at every turn.”
His voice softens, almost pained. “And… I’m not worthy of you either.”
My heart clenches painfully as his voice wavers, and I watch the tension ripple through him. Is that what he thinks? Is that why he said what he said back in the cabin? Why he thinks nothing can ever happen between us?
“I am sorry for being thrust upon you, Raylane,” he continues, his voice rough and unsteady. “I truly am.”
Then, as if the confession costs him more than he can bear, he turns on his heel and strides toward the door.
“Kaelzar,” I call after him.
His hand pauses on the handle. “The man who lashed your mother,” he says without turning, “deserves to die by your whip. Never doubt that.”