Chapter 33
Eliane
A vague figure appears in front of me. Everything is blurry and I can only make out some lines. I know it is him. He talked to me. My head throbs and I reach with my hand for my temple.
“They fixed the wound, Honey. It isn’t there anymore.” Despite his words, I rub the spot on my head, thunderous pain pounding through my forehead.
“What happened in ou—” I can’t finish my sentences because strong, thick, tattooed arms wrap around me.
“I am going to suffocate,” I squeak out, but it doesn’t come out in more than a whisper.
I try to smirk at him. His features appear sharper and as he steps back Da comes into view.
My heart warms at the sight of him. I force myself to stand up, the only traces of our nightmare being the ear deafening headache.
Da smiles at me. I step forward to hug him, but the king stops me.
“Well, everyone! It seems like we have two winners,” he shouts into the audience after giving me a dead glare.
I didn’t notice the crowd sitting there yet but they go wild.
I look at the king, Annie and Sibylla stand next to him, holding their heads high but ignoring our glances.
My eyes meet Braxton’s and he shrugs his shoulders.
“Why didn’t you tell me we won?”
“Because I didn’t notice or care. I had other things on my mind,” he groans, turning towards the other candidates. I follow his gaze, like an invisible line pulls my gaze into the same directions as his. Everybody else still sits there quietly with their blindfolds on. On the screen I see myself.
But not from my own point of view.
I freeze.
My hands brush and pull through the now short points of my hair. I give Braxton a look.
“I will tell you when we are out of here. I am sorry,” he whispers. I am not sure what he is sorry for. I think really hard and everything comes back to me.
The man, a healer, a torturer.
The fight.
The way he punched my face to the wall.
I must have blacked out after that and have no idea how we got back to reality. The king speaks up, freeing me from my endless thoughts.
“Not only did they win and survive, they did it in an incredible time. They haven’t been in there for more than.” He looks at the clock and everybody goes quiet. You could hear a pin drop.
“One minute and forty-seven seconds.” His face freezes as he speaks the last few words out loud.
I look at Braxton. That can’t be correct.
My fight with him only must have taken more than ten minutes.
Braxton’s body is stiff and his jaw is ticking.
He doesn’t react and to others it might not be visible, but to me it is.
I will ask him about it.
Later.
I hate the word later.
It brought me into this awful situation.
“Come to the front.” The king gestures with his arms. “Eliane and Braxton, you are the winners of the third trial.” I look at Brax and he gives me a nod in confirmation, so I follow his lead.
I hear the screen behind us start again and Aiden’s point of view comes on screen.
I know that because I can see Aaliyah in front of him reliving her nightmare.
I step next to the king, and Braxton steps on his other side on the left, ignoring the screams on the screen that leave a hole in my stomach.
Luckily, Annie and his mom stepped back.
He grabs our arms and raises them in the air. People go wild.
“Congratulations,” he spits the word out in disgust, and we can’t be the only two who notices. People clap, shout, and cheer while all the other candidates are still fighting for their lives.
A loud snap silents the arena.
A scream fills my ears.
I turn around.
Zephron runs towards one of the candidates. I don’t have to see who he is running at, as I hear him pray.
“No, no, please no,” he begs. He kneels in front of her, holding her face between his hands. My gaze goes towards her body. Her arms are limb, and she is sunk away in her chair.
Her red curls hang volume less next to her face.
Her broken neck doesn’t carry her face anymore.
It hangs down as a burlap bag.
The screen goes on replay, but I don’t want to see it.
I can’t swallow. Tears fill my eyes as Zephron screams for help. People move next to me, run, hurry towards her dead body.
An arm wraps me against a broad chest.
A sob escapes my throat as I hear Zephron speak those lovely but hurting words.
“I am so sorry. I love you, Hazel, please,” he begs again. He is hysterical and guards drag him away from her.
“Don’t act so stupid,” the king spits out towards Zephron in a whisper, but loud enough for me to hear. Braxton gives the king the finger before I turn into him.
Tears leave my eyes, and I press my face hard in Braxton’s chest. The smell of cedarwood fills my nose next to blood and some comfort crashes in me.
I look up in his eyes. His eyes are on fire and his face is burning.
He has seen death before and he protects me from experiencing it.
Except he can’t. It is out of his power. I hold onto him tightly.
“Let’s go,” he informs me. I want to scream. What about her body? Instead I stay silent, trying to process what just happened.
Without asking I let him take me to follow his brother.
His brother is being put in a room. Not a healer’s room, but a room like it. Cries leave his throat. We stand there in the doorway. I sniffle my nose and he looks up. His eyes are bloodshot and red. Tears glide down his face. Braxton moves towards him. He gives him a hug.
“I am sorry, brother.” He puts extra emphasis on the word brother. Did something change after this trial? I did see Zephron there. Braxton doesn’t ask about what their relationship was or how or what. He just gives him comfort.
“I am s-sorry for you too,” he whimpers, looking at me. I step forward, sitting next to him on the bed.
“What do you mean?” I ask. Nobody should know she is my sister. I didn’t tell many people. He confirms my doubts, because apparently he did know.
“She was your sister,” he stutters, and I freeze. “I helped her find you. I am the reason she entered. I am the reason she is dead,” he rattles, pressing his face in his hands.
I am not able to move. Is that how they met? Braxton speaks up.
“You are not the reason she is dead. The king is, Zephron. You did great. You helped her find Eliane. She would have given everything with or without your help,” Braxton announces.
His shoulders are high and his chin is lifted.
His jaw is clenched tight, and he bites his words back.
‘And you two fell in love with each other,’ is what he wanted to say but he holds his tongue.
How do you know? He is in my mind because he answers before I can ask.
“Because she asked me for help first.”
Ouch.
That hurts.
Did he know she was my sister all along?
“No, not really, but I had my expectations about why she tried to find you,” he explains, his face still with no emotion or movement.
Oh, okay.
“You didn’t tell me about her? That someone tried to find me?” I argue, folding my arm together. He cocks one of his brows up.
“I knew you just as little as her,” he argues back, folding his arms over each other as well.
“Can you stop silent fighting please. Hazel is dead.” Zephron brings in, looking at the both of us, his face even more puffy than before. It brings me back to reality.
Hazel is dead.
My sister is dead.
I hate myself for not getting to know her better.
She did so much for me, and I didn’t do anything.
I wanted to get to know her better.
Visit all the villages of Drimyé together.
But I thought we had time.
Time after these trials.
Time we, as it appears, do not have.
And now all I feel is guilt.
I try as hard as I can to push that memory and feeling away.
“I am tired.” I press out a fake yawn and stretch my arms. I turn to leave. It takes a while, and I hear Braxton talk to someone before the door closes. Footsteps follow me as I walk into the darkness and silent cries keep coming from my throat.
I lie down in bed. I took a shower, washed my new haircut and the wounds that are not present anymore.
My skin felt filthy, like something awful happened.
I feel the mattress sink as Braxton lies down next to me.
I move and turn around. I touch the tattoos on his tensed shoulder, and it is the first time I catch him shivering under my touch.
I trace the tattoo that represents his mom’s signet.
“We should talk,” I imply. He spins around, facing me. He is so close I feel his breathing touch my face.
“Hi,” I whisper, looking into those beautiful blue, greenish eyes. I feel kind of shy at once. My hands fidget nervously until he grabs them.
“Hi, Honey,” he breathes out. His inhale is shuttered. His hand cups my face. “I am not sure how I can tell you what happened.” He sighs, not breaking eye contact, but his eyes change.
“Just tell me, use your words. It is not like I already feel awful because of what happened with Hazel,” I try to say, but it comes out shaky.
“What do you remember?” he asks.
So I tell him the few things I know.
He looks away.
“That man,” he starts. “He tortured you. I was locked behind an invisible wall until my brother freed me,” he explains, locking his jaw in place. Like what he did to you? I almost ask. “He was a healer. You stood no chance. He took advantage of you and then—” He closes his eyes. What did he do?
“He tried to sexually assault you. He wouldn’t let go of your hair.
I had to cut it. I am so sorry,” he rattles, and his eyes well up with water and it is the second time I see him show that much emotion.
Does he care about me? He doesn’t react to my silent question, and I take in the news.
I need to find a way to make him feel better.
“I always wanted to cut my hair anyway,” I joke, but the words come out blurry and my lips are shaky. His calloused thumbs brush the tears on my cheeks away.
It might not come as a shock that I crawled against him that night, seeking for the comfort I so desperately need.
A cold breeze brushes my skin softly. The blanket moves a bit and his warm body isn’t heating me anymore. I hold my eyes closed as I try to find out what Braxton is doing. Is he leaving? Again? I hold my breath as the door of our room opens.
And as I suspected, the door closes with a soft thud and no goodbye.