Chapter twenty-five
My lids struggle to open, weighed down by crust. There is a strange mix of weariness and refreshment coursing through me. I’ve slept better than I have for some time, but my body is worn—so run-down that it takes a few moments to realize that I’m laying down.
Cheek on a pillow, I’m belly first on… a bed.
This isn’t how I normally sleep, which confuses me. Also—this bed isn’t familiar. The sheets are scratchier and a different shade of white than what I’m used to in the villa.
Where am I?
As memories catch up with me, my heart starts to thud against the hard bed. Jaegen. The vapor. The fire.
Aris.
I burned the runes off—Aris remembers himself. Does that mean that he’s fully himself again? And where is he?
With a grunt, I try to sit up, but sharp pain makes me gasp and collapse against the pillow. My shoulder and back burn, the agony permeating through me in hot, vibrant pulses.
There is a sigh.
“Sedate her,” someone says.
Seconds later, there is a sharp prick, something inserted into my neck.
A needle, I realize with alarm, but my fear leaves a second later and I fall into a dreamless sleep.
When I wake again, I stay still, having learned my lesson from before. I can’t let them know that I’m up. They, whomever they are, want me sleeping. I hold my breath and strain my ears, but wherever I am, it feels like I’m alone.
I bite down hard on my lip as I wiggle onto my side. My back burns with every twitch, my scalp aches like I’ve taken a hammer to it, and my wrist is wrapped in white bandages. I remember Jaegen throwing me to the sand and figure that it’s broken, probably; it hurts even trying to shift it.
In a clever one-handed maneuver, I make it onto my side and finally, greedily drink in my surroundings. Beside me is a standard wooden table with pill bottles, gauze, syringes, and creams. Illuminated by florescent lights, the rest of the room is revealed as a sparse space with a sand-colored carpet.
This is all I can see, all that I know of wherever I’ve been taken. My last memory is of Aris carrying me, but it’s possible that Jaegen returned and snatched me back. I have no clue who my captor is.
Fully aware that what I’m about to do is a bad idea, I bite my lip harder and push against the bed to rise into a seated position. The sensation of a hundred needles pricking me threatens tears and the effort of holding back a gasp is so great that I’ve bitten through my lower lip.
The metallic taste of blood greets me like a friend as I take a few deep breaths. My eyes shut, cheek flushed with the heat of tears, and I stay in this position until the pain gradually dims.
Blinking my eyes open and wiping at my face, I look around. I am indeed alone in a room that is both windowless and sterile. Beyond what I already observed, there is another, larger table with even more medical instruments and an IV pole without an attached bag. In the corner is the outline of a door, but there’s no knob to be seen.
The sheer amount of medical supplies and proof of treatment makes me doubt that I’m in Jaegen’s custody. Maybe he’d keep me alive as a bargaining chip, but why heal me or try to manage my pain? It doesn’t make sense.
So if it is Aris, the old Aris, who has me, what is his plan?
What will he do to me?
Slowly, I stand and make my way to the sealed door, trying not to move the muscles in my back. I manage one knock to the door, and then another, weaker one. “Hello?” I croak, to no response.
The taste of blood comforts me in my frustration; it is a familiar thing .
Surely, someone is watching. Someone hears. I don’t see any cameras, but that doesn’t mean anything; I’m dealing with gods and magic.
I’m not used to being ignored. I’ve just spent the better half of a year alone with Aris. We were everything to each other and needed nothing more. We were always speaking, and I was attended to constantly. He would have died for me; he tried to kill himself so I might live. He never would have let me sleep alone, especially after my nightmares.
So he really isn’t the same Aris anymore.
The realization is a gut punch. The person I spent all that time with, the one I grew to care for and who cared for me, is gone. His memory is back; he is back. I knew this would be the case. I knew what I was doing before I burned away the rune, but the consequences of my actions are fully setting in now.
It wasn’t like I had a lot of time to consider what I was doing by restoring Aris’ memory; Jaegen was eating him, and all I knew was that I couldn’t lose Aris. I’d had it in me to hope that everything we’d done together would mean something, that it might bleed over when he returned to himself.
But now…
I took a gamble, and it didn’t pay off. In hindsight, I want to punch myself for even considering it. What did I think, that I could fix him? Did I really fall for that age-old trick?
I go back to the look in his eyes when we were in the castle and he touched the rune and realized my scheme. He was so utterly, fully finished with me. Is that what this is—have I been disposed of?
The thought powers another knock on the door, this one angry. Sure, I expected him to be upset, but shouldn’t he also be grateful? I saved his life; I stopped him from relinquishing himself. I could have let Jaegen win.
God knows Aris deserved to die after all he did. But I chose him. Does that mean nothing?
I glance at the medical supplies, working my jaw. Then again, maybe he’s already repaid that debt by treating me. The burns were substantial and might have killed me without medicine .
Spurned by my thoughts, pain rushes through my back, making me unsteady on my feet. I stumble back to the bed, sitting down ungracefully, just as a short, polite rap on the door sounds.
Before I can stand again, two men are striding inside. Silva, and someone in a white doctor’s coat who I don’t recognize. Silva shuts the door behind them as the doctor approaches me, his demeanor apprehensive.
“You’re awake,” he says, then looks at Silva. For direction.
Silva studies me. “Will you behave, or should I have him sedate you?”
I blink, surprised by the threat. Does he think that I have fight left in me?
After a moment, I dip my head, sliding further onto the bed. Though the doctor is the one coming closer, it’s Silva I watch like a hawk. I don’t taste blood anymore, the wound on my lip already closed, but it reopens when I bite down fiercely. My body’s repulsion to him is instinctive, and he clearly feels the same. The way that he looks at me is how I would expect Aris to if he were here. He stares like I’m less than what he excretes.
I nervously reach for my hair, then start when I find a bald spot. Jaegen, I think resentfully. He ripped it out.
My eyes flit to the doctor, jolting as he reaches for me. “Hey, what are you doing?” I demand.
“I need to check your bandages.” He glances at Silva again, then back at me. “And you won’t be able to remove your shirt on your own… May I?”
I nod cautiously, tense as he slides a loose T-shirt off of me. It wasn’t what I had on at the beach, and I don’t know who put it on. The thought of Silva touching my naked and unconscious body sends a wave of nausea through me.
Cool hands gently pull away the gauze on my back, the doctor working silently and efficiently. I have questions—how bad is it? Can I see the burns? But Silva is glaring, and I don’t feel comfortable asking.
“I need to put on topical antibiotics,” he warns. “It will sting.”
I nod my consent, though I don’t know if it matters.
Seconds later, a strained breath escapes my nostrils at the feel of cool gel on my skin. Sting is a bit of an understatement, but I don’t complain as he keeps going, reserving my energy toward trying not to cry.
Finally, the doctor pulls back to pile on new gauze, then helps me with my shirt. It’s frustrating trying to work my arms through the sleeves, and I hate looking weak in front of Silva, so I give up, putting one arm in and leave the other out, tucked to my side.
The doctor walks away from me, his posture growing more assured as more space grows between us. “I’ll have to see her again in a few hours,” he says, nodding jerkily at the table. “She can have one tablet in thirty minutes, but I’d like to start weaning her off of the Vicodin.”
I’m on painkillers? My eyes narrow at the knowledge. I don’t feel totally out of it, beyond general weariness, but my back is also hurting—my wrist throbbing, too. I guess I really am due for my next dose.
Silva nods, then follows the doctor to the door. He knocks once, and someone opens it from the outside. At first, I think Silva is going to follow the doctor out, but he stays put, watching the man leave.
When the door shuts, he turns back to me.
“Where am I?” I say.
The doctor’s accent was American, but that doesn’t mean much. We could be anywhere.
“You will know when Aris wants you to know,” Silva replies.
I try my best to school my reaction. This is a direct order from Aris—keeping me in the dark? Am I a prisoner?
“Is there anything he has authorized for you to tell me?”
He smiles now that I am bothered. “Just that he will see you soon.”
“What, and that’s supposed to scare me?”
“It should. Very much so. You have lost your favor with him.”
“Come to rub it in?”
Silva crosses his arms over his chest. “Perhaps a little. Do you think you don’t deserve it? Everything has played out exactly how I told you it would, and you are all the worse for not listening. Now, you’ll be punished. ”
I’d be lying if I said his words don’t chill me, but I do my best to act indifferent. “If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead,” I say.
“There are worse things than death.”
I swallow.
Coming from anyone else, the words would be comical. It’s the kind of crap a fourteen-year-old would write in a journal. But kids like that write those things because they’re afraid of their own demise and want to feel better, to convince themselves that it is a boon to escape this world. The poetry doesn’t stem from an actual understanding of horror.
But I understand. I have watched people scream until their voices run raw and they are consumed by agony and are finally, finally silent. That silence is terrifying to so many people—what happens next? What if there’s nothing? But there is no world where “nothing” is better than eternally screaming.
When you die, you end. There’s an element of peace to that, a mercy—especially if you are in great pain. Yes, the form that you had is gone, and that is unfortunate and frightening, but remaining trapped and suffering is worse.
I swallow again. My mouth is suddenly dry.
What is Aris going to do to me?