Sounds Complicated #2
“I’m here now. And I promise. Hear me? I promise you. Things will be better. Easier.” He pulled me into another kiss. “Everything will be easier after Solstice. After we’re bound.”
After we’re bound.
After my soul is tethered to his for eternity.
I had wanted it. I had agreed. And would need to again for the ceremony to take place. But after…everything, things were different.
My eyes met his. An urgent question bubbled up and forced its way from me, “You love me?”
“Of course,” he insisted.
My hands landed on his cheeks, holding him from kissing me again. “No. You really love me?”
His brow scrunched. “Yes.”
“How do you know?”
Rhazien let out a soft laugh and smile before wetting his lips. Disappointment bounced across my bones as his hesitation lasted second after agonizing second.
“I—love our time together,” he started.
Too vague.
“And we’re a sensible match.”
Too broad.
“And you’ll make a great Queen.”
Too overwhelming.
I chewed on my lip at the final word. Queen. Seated next to but presumably never perfectly equal to Rhazien, who would be raised from Regent to King of all hives.
For the greater good. For progress between vampires and humans of Atoris.
“You…still want to be bound. Right?”
I thought of what he wanted to accomplish—pushing the vampire and human relations into an even more cooperative state. We could build new cities with citizens, vampires, and humans alike. The promised future seemed brighter, better…for everyone else. Everyone but me.
Could I be happy?
Could I be truly, genuinely happy? Did it matter if I was happy?
“I’m—” I started before the tears began again.
Scared. Unsure.
A cacophony of feelings rose to the surface. I imagined Rhazien was able to see them intermixed with the traces of his touch.
“I’m just very tired,” I said.
Rhazien pulled me across the gap, onto his lap, and held me there.
“It’s okay,” he said, softening as I unraveled.
The tighter he held me, the more I withdrew.
It’s a phase, I thought. This feeling…it’ll pass. I could love Rhazien. Then Dommik could be free to let me go. It would do the most good for the most people.
And as my thoughts found their way back to my original concern, my seemingly unavoidable fate, I began to spiral again.
For two days, my existence consisted of tirelessly talking myself out of and back into accepting Rhazien’s shadow. Reminding myself constantly of all the good that would come from it. Because who was I to deny future generations progress? Peace? A better life?
When the mission became too outlandish, I brought my thoughts back to Lydia—what I wanted Atoris to be for her, for her future. Imagining her face reignited my sense of purpose and belief in Rhazien’s goals.
With Rhazien returned, he took to studying The Source with Oddo, removing me from the research and any opportunity to conjure a vision.
“You’ve been through so much, you need rest,” Rhazien had said when I’d asked to visit the Master of Archives.
Interesting of him to think he was the one who knew what I needed when his knowledge barely broke the surface of who I was.
I thought of Dommik and my chambers being absent of lilies, of the horse Rhazien gifted me I’d refused to ride, of how he knew exactly when to give me space, or not.
Dommik knew me so entirely—so effortlessly—it felt natural and seamless.
Could I count that against Rhazien? Just because he didn’t know now didn’t mean he couldn’t know or wouldn’t try to learn. Especially if we lived an immortal life together. We’d have all the time in the world.
That is, if I accepted his shadow…
All the while, Shaw’s question echoed incessantly in my mind: who is he to you?
A nuisance. A safe harbor. An irritant. A confidant. A multitude of things, really.
I was sitting at my vanity, readying myself for bed. I’d stopped combing my hair, frozen in thought. Now, the instrument was tangled in my tresses.
“Lady Reyva, let me do that.” Alba gently took the brush from my hand.
She’d made herself scarce since the tavern and something about her demeanor and body language made me think she’d put her guard up around me. Maybe it was something she saw, something Shaw said. Maybe it was nothing.
In the rare moment alone with Alba, I asked, “Are you looking forward to the Solstice?”
Her eyes flicked to my reflection in the mirror between her gray robes. A forced smile crinkled her caramel eyes. “Of course. It’s a grand celebration every year.”
I turned to face her, interrupting her task. “Alba. Has something changed between us?”
She set the brush on the vanity and crouched to my level. “My lady, I am truly so sorry for what happened. One second you were dancing and the next—”
I patted the back of her hand. “Please—shh—no. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was terrifying, but everything is fine now.”
Her veil bristled as she exhaled. “I’m so relieved. I couldn’t have lived with myself if something had happened to you. And I would have understood if you were upset with me. It was my idea to go to Last Light.”
I stood and embraced her. “I’m not mad. Not in the slightest.”
Alba’s arms wrapped around me. It was exactly what I’d needed at that moment. A friend.
She finished detangling my hair and once it was woven into a manageable braid, I insisted she sit to have tea with me.
“Take off your veil, it’s just us.”
“I’ll admit,” she said, golden hair tumbling from beneath the removed fabric. “It can get stuffy. Especially in summer.”
Summer in the Hive. With long days and short nights, I wondered how life differed during the other seasons, and if I would be able to choose a path that would never allow me to bask in the sun’s glow ever again.