21. Chapter Twenty-One Siyala
Chapter Twenty-One: Siyala
My ears strain to listen for Immie’s heartbeat a few cells down, the rhythmic sound just barely noticeable over the harsh beating of my own. It has been a few days since Xander has come down to the dungeon to speak, and I can’t help but let my mind wander to reasons why he hasn’t returned.
Turning, I flop onto my back and look up at the ceiling, fingers tapping along my stomach.
You’re just bored. That’s why your mind drifts to thoughts of him.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head like I might dispel the picture of him sitting with his back to me as I washed away the dirt and grime clinging to my skin.
Like it might erase the memory of him handing me the parchment-wrapped lemon loaf, an almost smirk teasing one side of his mouth.
They were strange moments. I hate him, hate everything that he stands for, that he is vowing to protect.
Yet I have been treated with a kindness that I know—even in my own bitter head—is not normal.
I smelled the sweet tang of lemon before I opened the package, but looking down at it in my hand triggered a wave of nostalgia to wash over me before I could stop it.
Rhea squealing with delight at the lemon loaf Alexi surprised her with.
Her eyes shutting and lips curling into a bright smile at the taste of it.
I’d been thrown from this cell and back into the tower, watching as the woman I considered a sister hummed in pure satisfaction at being given the very same treat.
It should have brought me joy, to remember her that way, but it only made my stomach sour and my fingers curl, nails digging into the cake.
She was free—free—finally living a life away from the king, and I…
I was here. Stuck. Imprisoned. Again. Forced into a corner and made to relive every single thing I wanted to run away from.
I desperately want to escape the things that haunt me, yet they are trapped here with me.
The memories are chains that bind me to an existence where I am nothing but that scared girl in the Shifter Kingdom, left with a choice I should have never had to make.
You need to use him, my mind whispers. Take advantage of his kindness in order to escape. But I just don’t know how.
My eyes flutter open again, and I force my thoughts to quiet as I pretend that I’m not staring up at the cold stone of my prison but the night sky.
A sky too clouded to see the stars, but one that feels fathomless.
Like it might swallow me whole. And for a long while, I fantasize about drifting out of this world until the sound of the guard coming down the stairs stirs me out of my daze.
Sitting up, I turn my head and search for the steady beat of his heart, finding a strange kind of familiarity in its pattern.
Xander appears on the other side of the iron bars just as I swing my legs over the edge of my cot, bare feet pressing into the ground.
A strange look pulls at his features, his midnight hair disheveled in a way that speaks to a night of restless sleep—though I’m unsure of what time of day it actually is.
My heart leaps to my throat, the feeling so peculiar that I lay my hand around my neck as I stand and take a step towards him.
“You look…” I swallow, unable to verbalize exactly what I am seeing.
The guard has always come down here with a certain measure of control.
Hiding behind that golden armor, an even more steely demeanor always masking him.
But he stands before me now armorless, in more ways than one, with bruising on his jaw.
He huffs, folding his arms over his chest and wincing. “I’m fine.”
The bite in his voice draws my eyes to his, his gaze unforgiving as he stares me down. My lip curls, my words half snarl. “Like shit. You look like shit.”
“Charming.” He reaches for the brown leather strap crossed over his chest—a chest, I note with disapproval, that is broader than I expected without his armor on—and tugs the satchel he carries over his head.
It causes his tunic to lift, the tanned skin of his abdomen coming into view and showing off a gauze-covered wound on his side, just above the trim of his pants.
A noise curls in my throat, where I manage to trap it before it slips out.
Watching as he begins to rifle through his bag, I study him more closely.
His movements are sluggish, and though the beat of his heart is still steady, his breath sounds slightly labored.
What happened between his last visit and today?
“I’ve come with a bargaining chip,” he says, lifting a leather-bound book from the satchel and holding it out in front of him.
“Give me something I can take back to the king, and you can have this.”
“A book,” I say incredulously, eyeing it as I draw my hair over one shoulder to begin braiding. “You think you can tempt me with a book?”
“I think you are desperate for an escape.”
The cruelty in his tone surprises me, my eyes widening briefly before I level out my expression. “Not the escape I’m looking for,” I retort.
“But the only one you’ll be offered.” He waves the book in front of him, mocking in a way he never has been before. “Why didn’t Rhea ever use her magic when the king beat her?”
“I don’t know.”
“She must have spoken of her reasons for not fighting back—”
“I’ll remind you that I was a fox to her. Not exactly a confidant,” I snap, abandoning my hair as I stand.
His dark brows lower over his eyes, the shadows cast from the nearby torch cutting a dark line over his cheek. “You’re all she had to talk to. Surely, she said something about her magic. About why she chose not to reveal it.”
“She didn’t. Not that I can recall, anyway.”
His laugh is abrupt. Menacing. He tosses the book to the ground, letting the satchel fall next to it. “What did she talk about in regards to her claim to the throne?”
“What?”
“She is the heir to this kingdom’s throne, and it was stolen from her by King Dolian. Surely, she harbored resentment about that.”
I shake my head, my mouth opening and then closing. He can’t be serious.
“Fine, tell me about how she used her magic.”
“She rarely did.”
“Princess Rhea is mage. Do you truly expect me to believe that she just acted as if there wasn’t magic coursing through her veins? That she willingly endured—”
“She was a prisoner!” I shout, throwing my arms out to the sides. “Enduring was her only option.”
“No,” he barks, stepping nearer. Close enough that I can see the thick lashes that frame his eyes and detect the scents of pine and mint. “She told you more than you’re sharing.”
I grit my teeth, scowling in his direction.
“When did she first mention having magic?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat, for what feels like the hundredth time. “It was a long time ago.”
“How do you not know?” he asks, bending at the hip until he’s at my eye level. “What were those first few weeks with her like? Did she conjure her magic often?”
“I don’t—” I turn my head, brows drawing in. Even if I wanted to answer his questions, I can’t remember.
“Bella, you can’t expect me to believe that you don’t know anything. Do you want the book or not?”
I glance back at him, unsure why tears have sprung to my eyes. I do want the book. Anything to help pass the time while Immie sleeps and I’m left alone with my own memories. But I can’t give him what he is asking for.
“When you first saw Rhea use her magic—”
“I don’t know!” I shout, my fingers digging into my hair as I step back from him. My heart races as I squeeze my eyes shut. “I told you, I was a fox—”
“And you were all the princess had—”
“Stop it.”
“Why did Princess Rhea hide her magic from the king? What did she tell you about her power?”
“I don’t know!” My scream echoes, hands cradling the sides of my head while air rushes out of my chest, making me feel as if it’s caving in.
“I told you, shifters are not meant to be in one form for as long as I was. It begins to mess with you, twist your mind.” His expression shifts, anger to something else, but I turn away from him before I can decipher what.
Sliding my hands down my cheeks, I quickly wipe away the tears that have fallen.
“I’m not lying when I say I don’t remember.
I can’t remember. Because for four years, I was trapped in my animal form.
For four years, I slowly lost my mind and scrambled my memories until now, only bits and pieces of those first few weeks together bleed through.
” I inhale deeply, my arms wrapping around my torso.
“Rhea was a lifeline. She was my best friend, my sister who loved me unconditionally. But at the end of the day, I thought she was a mortal and she thought I was her pet, and while she only had me, it doesn’t mean that she told me everything.
That I saw everything. You could never understand, so you might as well just let the king have his way with me because I cannot provide you with the answers to the questions you have. ”
I wanted to remember my time with Rhea as something calm and wonderful and magical.
And sometimes, it was those things. But more often, it was painful.
Scary. Sad. Not because of her but because of the king and what he forced her to endure.
What he made her become as she sat alone in that tower for the many years before I showed up.
Even after my arrival, there was never a version of her that was carefree or unburdened.
I did my best for her then, and I am doing it for her now, and like most things I have tried in my life, I am failing on all counts.
This is what you do, little kit. You take, and you expect not to have to give.
You expect the world to bend to your will when you can’t even function on your own.
This is why you will always need me and why, no matter where you go, I will always be in your head.
Reminding you that without me, you are nothing.
With Kenji’s voice strong in my head, I nearly miss the soft way Xander breaks the silence between us.
“I’m sorry.” Hands braced against the bars, the guard peers at me through concerned eyes when I turn, strands of his onyx hair framing his face.
For all the anger that was just pouring from him, it has been wiped away now.
Replaced with something that looks suspiciously like regret.
But that can’t be true, not when I’ve all but admitted that I’m worthless to him.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, pursing his lips before righting himself.
“I am frustrated but not with you, and I should not have pressed you so hard.”
Watching him, I force a shrug as I take a deep breath. “It’s fine.” Better he feels guilty over it if I mean to use him to escape, I tell myself, twisting the bottom of my tunic in my hands, my nail dragging over the thick hem.
“And I do understand.”
“Understand what?”
He sighs, surprising me when he takes a seat on the ground, boots planting and arms hanging over his widened knees.
The pose might look relaxed if it weren’t for the way his fingers lace tightly together in front of him, white flaring at his knuckles.
He looks down the corridor, but if Immie is awake she hasn’t moved, and the dungeon is otherwise quiet.
His attention moves to his hands and stays there as he speaks, his voice low.
“What it is to live without being alive. To move through this world as if you must be a shadow of yourself. To hide behind invisible shields and make yourself appear impervious to the words and wills of others. Impenetrable to the outside.” The quickening of his heartbeat is slight, but noticeable.
“I have done horrible things in the name of my own self-interest. Even worse in the name of the king. And because of that, it has been a long, long time since I’ve managed to live in a space that wasn’t occupied by both guilt and”—his eyes lift to meet mine—“fear.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I lean more of my weight onto the leg not injured by the arrow. “What does a man like you have to fear?”
“Many things.” He doesn’t elaborate, instead reaching for the book and leaning forward to place it inside the cell. I arch my brow in question. “I can’t free you. I can’t offer you any other escape than this.”
When he said it before, the words were sharp with irritation. Now they are spoken with a gentler edge. One that propels me towards him, surprising Xander when I take a seat near the front of my cell. Between the bars, I feel him watch me as I turn the book over in my hands. The Sword and The Swan.
“It’s from the princess’s library,” he supplies in my silence. “I hope you haven’t read it.”
“To be fair, I haven’t read any of the books in that tower.
Rhea did.” It wasn’t that I couldn’t read in my fox form.
It was that it would have been a strange thing for Rhea to see.
An inexplicable one. So I hadn’t bothered to try.
Told myself I was content with just being her pet.
“But I don’t think she ever read this one. ”
“Any interest in talking about what you do recall?” he asks, earning my gaze once more. “Our deal still stands. I can tell you now that there hasn’t been a new update on the princess, but I take that as a good thing. It means—”
“That she is still with Flynn in the Mage Kingdom.”
He nods, and some of the tension that was curled into my muscles releases. Still, for all this kindness the guard is showing, I can’t lose sight of the fact that his end goal will always be to serve the king. It’s a vow he gave, the oath running through his blood.
Laying the book in my lap, I tilt my head, my braid sliding over my shoulder. “I may not remember anything of value,” I say. It’s not wholly a lie.
“That’s okay,” he says, lips tugging to the right. “I’m content with whatever you can give me.”