76. Princess Esemeray
PRINCESS ESEMERAY
Four days passed and they were still traveling.
She’d hoped by now she would feel something, but the numbness surrounding her heart wouldn’t go away.
The only time she felt anything was when she thought of Riggs, but that led to crying, lots of crying.
She was certain that if she cried anymore, she’d faint from dehydration.
They had run out of water. And even though they were surrounded by a giant body of water, Killian told her the lake wasn’t good to drink from. Esemeray had been desperate for just a drop, so she asked him a few times more, just in case his answer would have changed.
It didn’t.
So, for hours she had been staring at the snow covered ground in the distance, daydreaming about hydrating instead.
Killian had confirmed the snow was safe as long as it was fresh and clean.
Even though she wasn’t looking forward to freezing, she was looking forward to being somewhere new, somewhere where she wasn’t staring at the same lake that took Riggs' life.
She wanted to ask Killian when they would arrive in Theradonia—Today? Tomorrow?—but they hadn’t spoken to one another yet, and Esemeray was too tired, and too stubborn, to break the silence first.
Some days were worse than others, some days they went all day without speaking. She had a feeling today was going to be one of those days.
As the midday sun warmed her bones, she inhaled the piney northern wind as it caressed her face, finding some comfort in the sounds around her. The cool, whistling wind breezing by. Storm’s hooves trotting along the sand like the steady beat of a drum.
It was a quiet day, but the quiet meant thoughts flooded her mind.
Over the last few days, she’d kept replaying the vision of Riggs catching butterflies in the field of vibrant flowers—seeing him smile toward the little boy, Ryker.
It had been the only thing keeping her sane—remembering him happy.
She hadn’t told Killian what she saw, and she didn’t know if she should. They hadn’t spoken about Riggs since they left the shore, but she knew he was thinking about him. He had to be. It was the only explanation for his silence.
But there was something else she kept seeing, something less pleasant. Something she could not explain.
Visions of a memory that were not hers, but Killian’s.
Her mind swirled, and drifted.
Oh no.
It’s happening again…
Rapid light flooded her senses as flashes of Riggs on the shore. His neck, mutilated and bloody. His chest impossibly still. Hands that were not hers and covered in blood trembling over his body.
She slammed her eyes shut, willing the vision away.
Go away.
Go away.
Go away.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, focusing on the snowcapped mountains ahead of her and trying to steady her breathing before Killian figured out she was having yet another panic attack. The first time it happened, he dropped everything and dumped the last of their water on her.
That was why they ran out.
She tried to explain that she wouldn’t hurt anyone—that she wouldn’t hurt him—but he’d done it anyway. And now they had to suffer for it.
Killian stiffened behind her, shifting in the saddle before his touch warmed her shoulder. “Are you alright?”
By instinct she had almost shifted away from his hand, surprised when she sat there letting him touch her.
“Fine,” she lied, shocked he broke the silence. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.” His voice was hoarse.
His hand brushed down her arm, squeezing her gently before he parted. She sighed, calming as she glanced toward the skies, spying a bird soaring high.
I wish I could be up there.
This morning she’d tried to shift, but nothing happened, the buzzing energy once beneath her skin now stagnant.
Not gone, just stagnant.
She supposed she could find all the answers she sought, if she found the man she should have flown to first.
Torin Rey.
Maybe if she had gone to him like Aria told her too, Riggs would have still been here.
Maybe if she had left when Riggs told her too, he would still be alive.
The growing pressure built behind her eyes, tears leaking down her face.
It was all her fault.
And she hated herself for it.
“Princess, we’re almost to Theradonia.” Killian mentioned, pulling her out of her turmoil.
Her stomach hollowed. She squared her shoulders, chin held high. “Just Esemeray, not princess.”
“Very well. Esemeray.”