Chapter 3 #3
Again, the surge of memories hits me like a wave but it melts together now, some pieces flowing away just within grasp. Where was the village? How long did we live there?
“He’s my neighbor.” I swallow. “We worked together, ate together and survived together.” My throat works at this half-truth.
“Sawyer is the prince of Lux,” Cedric replies, eyes stern. “Surely you know that. Avonde, is this a body double? Could our enemies really breach our walls like this?”
This causes me to burst into laughter, when I know I really should not, but this is a cruel joke. Enemies, body doubles, surely I’m in a fever lying in my bed back home. This witchcraft Avonde mixed, it must be affecting me because I have to reel myself back in.
“What’s funny about that?” he demands.
“Sawyer is no prince.” I smirk. “He lives on a farm. He works with his hands, have you seen his hands?”
Avonde steps halfway between the two of us, as if to protect me or him, which one, I’m not sure. Is there that much danger?
He tucks his hands in his front pockets and begins to pace the small space before the stone stairs, as if this scene bores him. What is his commitment to my situation? It appears I am a burden, a prisoner. They’ve deduced I am not Elivienne, that much is clear on their faces.
“A farmer? I would kill to see my brother put in a day’s worth of work on anything that doesn’t involve draining our coffers.
” This image makes my blood boil, but I hear truth in his voice, and it makes me consider for a moment that Sawyer has been, well, not a farmer after all.
I never knew his true career, but he worked so well in the fields.
“Your Highness…” Avonde clears her throat. “I looked into her mind earlier before I came to retrieve you.”
“A useless venture, I’m sure. Not even I can get into her head,” he retorts, gesturing to his temples again. “Empty, like I said.”
“Excuse me?” I stand now, feeling my knees slightly knock beneath me. “Who are you to pass judgement on me, on Sawyer? I do not know you and this has gone on far too long. I wish to leave.”
“Her head, it is not exactly empty.” Avonde ignores my request. “The mindscaping, what did you see?”
Cedric pockets a hand and looks into the distance. “She was in a village and she called herself Liv. I thought it was a dream, a scene playing in her head. It felt like peace, at the time.” There is an agony to his voice and I can’t make sense of what he references.
“You went into my head? Both of you? What does that mean? What are you?” Let her – let him – see the anger in my eyes. I do not care. The two go silent, perhaps silently conversing again in whatever language they use.
The healer taps her fingernails on a cutting board. “Would you say that you are a human?” Her tone is lighter, more curious but with an edge.
“What kind of question is that?” I snap, unable to hold back my laughter again. “Of course I am human. Though you seem to believe I am a cess, whatever that is.”
Cedric runs his hands through his hair out of the corner of my eye, a maddening look upon his face. I can feel the anger rolling off him like a dark shadow, one almost visible down on this level.
Slowly, with trepidation, he begins to approach me.
His boots click on the stone floor and with every step my breath hitches at the absolute power rolling from him.
This time, I swear I almost catch a shadow swing out from his feet.
My hands have found the couch, a deathly grip grounding me.
Yet, I do not flinch as his form crouches down to my level, red irises stark against the white surrounding them.
Liv. I am just Liv.
I will not forget myself.
Some form of self-preservation has my mind repeating this same string of words, as if a witch’s curse. Something to wield against this foreign power.
One moment, Cedric is before me with a face of stone. The next, his mouth opens to show a set of ivory fangs protracting from his mouth. Their points glisten in the wavering light upon the walls and my body lurches at the sight. A sight that is monstrous and unknown and what nightmares are made of.
A predator.
The scream that comes from me is guttural and I rip the velvet couch as I crash backwards in my haste, knocking a stand of potions onto the floor. The glass shatters around me and wet pools into my hips.
“What are you?” I can’t withhold the hysteria in my voice because this is not real. No, this is not real. This is a dream. The village was not the dream. Or my first theory is correct, I’ve been abducted. No, Sawyer was here.
Avonde says something and swats at him but he retracts the fangs back to a normal length and stands, indifferent to my reaction. I look at her and jump back as she comes near. “You too? Is this what you are? Is this a cess?”
She shakes her head and starts to gather the glass from the liquid. “You didn’t need to do that,” she groans, her tone angry at Cedric.
He pauses at the base of the stairs. “Vampyr, in case you were wondering,” he announces, getting as far away from me as possible.