4. Chapter Four Rhea
Chapter Four: Rhea
T he days blur together in a continuous stream of repetition—each day the same as the one before it: wake up with the sun, clean something, practice my exercises at Alexi’s behest, bathe, eat, read. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
I woke up this morning to the drizzling of rain outside, the gray of the skies matching the dreary stones surrounding me. The sun is hidden behind thick dark clouds, and for some inexplicable reason, tightly wound dread builds inside me. Moving around my tower, I run through my daily checklist of duties to keep busy: sweeping floors, dusting shelves, re-organizing my books by color today instead of alphabetically.
It is late in the afternoon when the reason for the heavy foreboding feeling is finally revealed. Sitting on my couch in the near dark—just the light of a few candles burning to combat the gloomy thunderclouds—I try to sew a small rip in one of my dresses. Bella is laying at my feet when suddenly her head shoots up, her ears going erect as she turns to look towards the door. There is only one person she reacts that way for. No. No. No. I fight to keep my breathing steady, laying the dress and sewing needle down on the tea table in front of me.
“Bella, you need to go hide. Now.”
She hesitates, her eyes heavy with apprehension. The hackles on her back rise, and her tail goes straight as she comes to stand in front of me defensively. But the king never comes alone. Bella is a large fox, but she couldn’t take them all on, and I’m not willing to even let her attempt it. If something happens to her, I might as well turn a sword on myself.
“Now, Bella. Please, ” I beg. Seconds pass, and I can hear the king’s steps—slow and methodical—nearing. Bella finally concedes and bolts up the staircase to hide under the bed. She barely rounds the corner of the loft when the door opens and King Dolian walks in followed by his five most-trusted guards.
Unlike how Alexi only wears his weapon and cuirass, these guards dress head-to-toe in golden metal, the Mortal Kingdom’s sigil of a roaring lion head engraved on their chests. They stand at attention and block the door like I’d actually try to escape if they didn’t. My gaze clashes with one of the guards—his dark eyes wrinkling around the corners for a moment as he takes me in. He’s new, I realize, someone I’ve never seen with the king before. His shoulder-length wavy black hair starkly stands out against his armor. No emotion betrays his face as he stares at me, leaving me feeling oddly exposed. None of the other guards look at me like he does.
The king steps in front of me, drawing my eyes to his. Locked in place under his harsh gaze, my body can’t move. My breath catches in my throat, and I quickly clasp my hands together behind me to hide their trembling. I refuse to cower before him this time, but there is no denying the icy fear that is coursing through my veins. He is dressed in his usual kingly uniform—a black button-up dress shirt neatly tucked into tan breeches. It’s offset by an embroidered blue and gold vest that fits snugly across his chest. Shiny black riding boots without a single scuff click on the wood floors as he nears me. Outwardly, he looks every bit the regal king he presents himself to be. You would have to dig deeper, beyond the facade, to see the true evil that I know lurks beneath.
My posture is rigid as the king runs his gaze over me from top to bottom, his hazel eyes leering while a malicious smile widens his mouth. I shiver under his attention, making his smile grow even wider—the white of his teeth glowing against the shadows of his face. It is horrifying and everything my nightmares are made of.
He is everything my nightmares are made of.
“Do you no longer bow before your king, Rhea?” he chides.
The hair on my arms rises at the sound. My body trembles as I lower down into a curtsy, gaze falling to the floor as I will my face to appear calm. He tuts in disapproval, walking around me slowly and appraising my bent form. I cast my eyes further down as my legs shake, my toes trying and failing to grip onto the wood floor for balance.
The king comes to stand before me, hooking a finger under my chin to make me look up. His face transforms with a sneer, and I am immobile, pinned under the venom in his eyes. Releasing me, the king winds his hand back so quickly that I can’t brace myself for what is to come. Crack. My head is thrown to the side with the force of his slap as my knees buckle and I fall to the ground. I hold my breath and pry my watery eyes open, a copper taste filling my mouth.
“Stand. Up.”
My jaw clenches at the anger in his voice as I push through the burning sensation in my legs and come back up to stand. Any hope I had that this would be a more mild visit vanishes. His moods are always wild and unpredictable. Sometimes he comes in and just sits with me, talking as if we’ve always been close, as if we are actually family. But today the king is angry and I am meant to be a release for that fury. My eyes find a chipped stone on the wall behind him, and I focus on it, allowing everything else around me to blur.
“Do you have any idea what it is like running a kingdom? To have the people of this realm rely on you to make the right decisions?” he questions, voice deep with rage. I know it’s rhetorical, but my surprise at the absurdity of his words nearly allows a scoff to leave my mouth. Nearly. His hand reaches out to play with a strand of my hair, twisting it between his fingers. “Of course you don’t,” he continues, tone full of disdain. “My father used to say I had to earn my title. I was not sure what he meant until that fateful night on the Summer Solstice.”
His hand shoots out suddenly and grabs on to my jaw, his thumb and fingers running up my cheeks as he squeezes—making my lips pucker. Forcing me to look at him again, my shoulders creep towards my ears in response while I watch his eyes burn with an unmatched fury. But there is something else there too. With one hand locked on my jaw, his other slowly tucks my hair behind my ear on one side, the tender and gentle movement contrasting the anger radiating off of him. He drags a knuckle from my temple all the way down my cheek and neck to my shoulder, making my skin feel as if it’s crawling under his touch.
The king’s warm breath caresses over my forehead as he leans in to give me a kiss there. I’ve had years of practice not reacting to his touches, but it’s still a battle to not try to yank away from him. Sometimes I wonder if King Dolian Maxwell, my uncle by blood, sees me as something… other than his niece. The thought chills me to my bones.
“You look more and more like her every time I visit,” he murmurs, his eyes wistful as he studies me. My stomach clenches uncomfortably at the longing in his voice. “Nothing to say today? I have a hard time believing you are finally being obedient,” he remarks, releasing his grip on my jaw, but not moving to back away. He just stares intently at me like he’s gearing up to do something.
“Well,” I respond automatically, “what would you like me to say?”
When his eyes narrow into slits and his body becomes tense, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. I start to apologize, but my plea is cut short when he brutally wraps his hand around my neck and forces me backwards until I slam into the stone wall. Tears well in my eyes from the pain—from the fear of what’s to come. His lips lift in a snarl as he looms over me. My hands grasp onto his wrist tightly as I try to pry his grip from my neck, but I’m not strong enough. His hand tightens further until I start to see stars.
“Do you think you are clever?” he asks through gritted teeth, a scrutinizing look flashing over his features. “Your father thought he was clever too, and look how that ended for him.”
Each word is like a blade slicing under my skin. I wince at the clear disdain in his voice when he speaks of his brother. Warm tears slide down my cheeks, endless words and emotions I can’t voice held in each drop. A familiar sensation low in my stomach starts to build within me, its humming making my fingers tingle. I first felt it years ago and it has only continued to make itself known in the time that has passed. Mostly, it appears when the king is preparing to punish me, but he must never know what I can do. So I focus on squashing it down within me, gritting my teeth as I push and push to snuff the feeling out.
The king steps quickly to the side, using his grip on my neck to throw me ruthlessly to the ground. My knees hit the floor first, swiftly followed by my hands. Sharp pain lances through my limbs, traveling to my hips and shoulders.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you? You must like it when I have to punish you.” He steps closer, grabbing a handful of my hair and yanking my head back, forcing me to look at him. A guttural scream leaves my throat from the pain of his grip. He leans in close as he squats down in front of me, his lips a mere inch away from my own. “I will do this until every trace of him is gone,” he whispers. His other hand—closed into a fist—connects with my side. Air pushes out of my lungs as another shriek leaves me, my vision beginning to swirl. “We will do this until you are worthy of your title, Rhea.” His fist pounds into my side again and again, my ribs aching with a pain so fierce I feel it in my toes. “Until you are worthy,” he grits out again, the back of his hand finding my cheek. The ring he wears on his middle finger slices into my lip, blood dribbling from my mouth and onto my dress.
When he is satisfied with the damage he’s caused, he lets go of my hair, and my body falls to the floor. The king stands, reaching into his pocket and coming out with a white handkerchief embroidered with his initials in gold. Calmly, he wipes my blood off of his hand, deliberately making sure there is no trace left. Like it never happened.
“I will make you different, Rhea,” he vows. “You will be different.”
My head is heavy as I hear him and his guards walk out the door, slamming it shut behind them. Darkness blurs my vision, sucking me into a void until I feel nothing at all.
Cool air caresses my cheek, tickling my eyelashes as my consciousness starts to awaken. My body feels weightless, like I’m floating on water—the smell of jasmine wafting in the wind surrounding me. In the recesses of my mind, warning bells start to go off, but the breeze and the scent, combined with a vague feeling of being insubstantial, makes my concern fade away. The last thing I can remember is falling to the ground from the king’s clutches. I should feel the hard floors beneath me. Bella should be nuzzling my face to try and wake me. My body should be in pain, bruises blooming and soreness settling in bone deep. But I feel none of that.
“Open your eyes, Rhea.”
A soft feminine voice surrounds me, somehow familiar, yet it’s not a voice I know by heart. It takes a concentrated effort to pry open my eyes. When they finally obey, I blink multiple times to try and make my surroundings come into focus. With each blink however, the image doesn’t change or sharpen—the area around me stays formless, lacking definition. There is a sky above me—no, around me—dotted with flickering stars. The sheer number of them changing the normally black night into one that glows silver. How did I get outside? I lift my hand in front of me to see if my body is really here or if I’m some sort of ghost. Maybe the king has punished me too hard, and now my soul is heading to the Afterlife.
“You are not dead, Rhea.” The soothing lilt of the woman’s voice is closer than before, but I still cannot see who it is.
Scanning the space above me, I notice swirls in shades of blue, red, purple, and green. Each color slowly spinning, illuminated even more by the stars. Gods, there must be millions of them. Confusion continues to build inside of me, and I’m not entirely convinced I didn’t die. What is this place?
“The colors are other galaxies. Different worlds and beings and gods who dwell in them.”
Who is that? My mind whirls as the feminine voice chuckles in response; the sound itself is even otherworldly.
“I’m afraid I cannot tell you who I am. And as for where you are, they call this place the Middle.”
My head tilts to the side, processing what the woman said. The Middle. “I’ve never heard of such a place. Is it within the five realms? Wait, how did I leave my tower?”
There is no way I escaped, not on my own, which means someone has removed me. Since Alexi is bound by his blood oath to never let me leave, that means it must have been the king. But I had heard him leave the tower before succumbing to the darkness, so it couldn’t have been him. Uncertainty turns to panic at the thought that I’m somewhere unknown. My eyes dart back and forth trying to understand where this place is and how I came to be here.
“Do not panic. You have not left the tower.” Her voice is all around me now.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I blurt as I try sitting up, but it’s like my body is not my own. I can’t move with any fluidity.
“We don’t have much time together, but I wanted to visit you here—to let you know you aren’t alone.” Her words give me pause, my heart pounding in my chest and mouth struggling to find my reply. Despite the chaos of my thoughts colliding with each other, I manage to finally speak.
“Who are you?”
“I am many things,” she answers, amusement tinkling her tone.
This must be why I never remember my dreams—this one is extremely odd . I try once again to tilt my head around but still can’t find who is speaking to me.
“When the stars try to lead you away from the false king, follow them. Look to the east for the answers you seek.”
“What?” The word comes out as a squeak, my heart beating fast and loud in my ears.
“Trust the stars over the ancient trees.” Her voice starts to fade away as my eyelids flutter closed. “Look to the east.”
A growing heaviness invades my bones, like each layer of my body is being stitched back together. It feels like I’m falling through the night sky and back into Olymazi, the wind whipping through my hair and lashing against my cheek harshly. Each second that passes is another weight that presses down on me.
I keep falling, the stars swirling around me faster and faster and faster until—
My eyes fly open as I suck in a long breath. Feeling returns to my fingers and toes—a tingling sensation that slowly moves up my legs and arms to my head. I swear I can feel each separate hair follicle on my scalp. I expect to wake on the balcony, outside in the elements and under the night sky. That this was all some half dream where I straddled the line between being awake and not. Instead, I’m staring up at the rafters of my tower from the floor on the lower level—right where I remember falling before the darkness swallowed me. Bella is by my side, her golden eyes burning with emotion.
Slowly, I move to sit, leaning on the tea table for support. My hand cradles my forehead, my body tense like I truly did just come back into it from the Afterlife. While I’m happy that it wasn’t a nightmare, the odd dream leaves me feeling off-kilter. Still, I remember every word that the ethereal woman said. Perhaps it is a sign that I am losing my sanity, but I find that my gut instinct is to listen to her. The words rattle around in my head as I stay seated on the floor and try to decipher their meaning.
Trust the stars over the ancient trees to guide me away from the false king.
And look to the east for the answers I seek.