Chapter 25 Broken
Broken
She woke in Clyde’s arms.
Through rising panic and the thundering of her heart, she tried to shove him away, but his arms clamped down around her.
The more she struggled, the tighter he held.
She clawed at his skin, but he didn’t even flinch.
He only tilted his head with a crooked smile.
“My pretty little unicorn,” he said sweetly, “aren’t you going to kiss me? ”
Everything went white.
When her vision returned, she was no longer human.
Her hooves scraped against the hard ground, her body heavy and trembling.
A halter of barbed wire dug into her face, the metal biting deep with every struggle and every breath.
Clyde gripped the rope attached to it, grinning; he tugged it hard, forcing her to walk closer and closer to him.
Rivulets of blood dripped down her neck as the metal sliced her skin. Each step was complete agony.
Clyde laughed.
“You can run,” he said, voice thick with glee, “but I’ll always catch you.”
Then he was gone—and in his place, the king appeared.
He didn’t speak. He only smiled, calm and cruel, and pulled a shard of glass from his sleeve. The same one he’d dragged across her arm in the throne room. She tried to run, but her hooves wouldn’t move. The moment he pressed the shard against her skin, it burned.
And this time, she knew what was coming.
Her scream echoed through the void as the glass still sliced deep, peeling skin like paper. Blood welled from the cut, and he watched her with fascination, his fingers painted red, even though it made no sense.
Luna thrashed in place, but no one moved to stop him. None of the nobles even blinked.
A hundred soldiers appeared, standing shoulder to shoulder, swords in hand, their armour gleaming with blood. “One way or another,” they said in one terrible voice, “we will get the unicorn out of you.”
A hundred blades rose.
They descended upon her, piercing her through the heart—over and over, sharp and cold—until all she saw was white again.
Gasping awake, she clutched her chest, fingers frantically scrambling for wounds that weren’t there. Her breath came in sharp, shallow bursts as she patted herself down.
No swords.
No blood.
Not even a scratch.
Her hand stilled, pressed over her pounding heart.
Just a dream, she told herself. A terrible, awful dream.
Her limbs trembled as she sat up, and for a long moment, she could only sit there—blinking in the dark, trying to separate nightmare from reality.
Relief came slowly, sagging through her body in uneven waves. She wasn’t injured. She was free. Safe.
And yet, she wasn’t.
The images still clawed at the edges of her mind: Clyde’s voice, the king’s glass, the feel of her own blood. It made her skin sting with phantom pain.
Turning her head, she spotted Damien lying on his back near the fire, casting flickering shadows across his face. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
She pushed herself to her feet with a sigh and wandered down to the edge of the lake. The cold air brushed against her skin like a whisper and she knelt, splashing cool water on her face, desperate to wash the nightmare away.
The black surface rippled, then stilled.
Though her life back at Grythorn had been extremely restricted, it had also been relatively easy.
She had never known true fear, not until the night of the ball.
And if the king was willing to kill his own people in order to achieve his agenda, there was little doubt in Luna’s mind that he would use every possible resource to hunt her down.
Her chest tightened. If he did find her, surely death would be a better fate.
She cupped her hands and doused her face, over and over, but the dread remained, pressing down on her in all directions. It numbed her will to carry on, to move forward. What was the point of escaping Grythorn if this was what freedom felt like?
Nightmares, and waking up screaming.
Fear—pressing in from all sides.
Guilt so heavy she could hardly stand beneath it.
She wrapped her arms around herself, as if that would help her hold herself together . . . but it didn’t.
She had no family here. No future. No one was waiting for her to come home, for she had no home to return to.
Her father. Her mother. They wouldn’t feel her absence, nor know of her struggles to survive. They wouldn’t light a candle or speak her name. As far as they knew, she’d escaped and was well—and maybe that was for the best.
If she died, would anyone mourn her loss? Would Damien? Or would he just press forward like he always did, carrying the weight of yet another broken thing?
The ache inside her was too loud to think. Too wide to escape.
She was so tired.
So unbelievably tired of hurting, of fearing, of hoping for something better and getting nothing. The pain felt like it had always been there; like it always would be.
There was no light. No way out.
She looked out at the lake. The water was still and black, like before—a mirror of everything inside her.
She didn’t hesitate.
She stripped off her clothes, boots forgotten in the grass. Her skin prickled in the cold night air, but she didn’t feel it . . . not really.
She took one step, then another until she was running.
The cold water felt like the press of a blade against her skin, but she didn’t care. She welcomed it; she wanted it to hurt. Wanted her body to match the numbness already spreading through her soul.
The cold rushed up past her knees, then her waist, each step slower than the last.
She had left the people of Grythorn susceptible to unicorn attacks, and for what? For her own selfish desire to be free. Was it even worth it if so many were going to die?
Her skin burned. Her breath caught. Still, she kept going. The water climbed up her ribs, her chest, her neck.
And then—she dove under.
Shock stole the last bit of air from her lungs.
And everything stilled as the noise in her head quieted and the world above disappeared.
Here, under the black surface, there was no war. No lies. No mother who abandoned her, no lover to betray her, and no king threatening her. There were no monsters hiding in plain sight, nor in the shadows.
Just cold blackness.
It wrapped around her, dragging her deeper into the dark. Her ears rang. Her chest convulsed. Her lungs screamed for air, for light, for anything.
But she refused, forcing herself to stay under and surrender to the quiet.
A small voice sounded, echoing a memory that was once her plan.
Emily thinks I’m hiding in a cabin.
If I die, she’ll wait forever for me—and I’ll never come back.
She’ll know that I’m not okay . . . That I’m . . .
It’ll destroy her.
She couldn’t do that, not to her dear sister.
The thought sent Luna kicking towards the surface.
Cold air stabbed her lungs as she gasped and treaded water, forcing her to take shallow breaths, but it didn’t matter. She was alive. Tears silently streamed down her cheeks, lost to the water around her. She wasn’t okay, but she was here.
Slowly, she dragged herself back to the shore. She’d only been in the water for a few minutes, and already, her skin was paling to blue.
She collapsed onto the grass, naked. Her skin burned from the cold, and her body trembled so hard it felt like her bones might crack. She curled into herself, holding her feet, trying to coax warmth back into her toes.
“I could get used to waking up to this view,” Damien said as he draped a blanket around her shoulders.
Her face heated, and she clutched the fabric to her body, shielding her nakedness from him; she hadn’t even heard him come over.
How long had he been awake? Had he seen her dive into the water? How much of a view had he gotten?
Without a word, he sank down beside her, the weight of his presence settling into the earth at her side. “You okay?”
She turned to him. Lines of worry wrinkled his face, the intensity too much for her to consider right now. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Remember the man whose back you broke?”
“I’ll never forget him.”
“We were . . .” She struggled to find the words to describe their relationship and what it had been. What they had shared was secretive, taboo. It hadn’t really been a relationship at all. It was a mistake. That’s all it had been.
Though, in her mind, before the ball, she had fully planned a future with him.
Despite coming from different social statuses, she never anticipated it to be a problem.
The conversation with her parents would have been difficult, and while they likely would’ve respected her decision, they’d be disappointed.
It wouldn’t have mattered to Luna. With Clyde, she may have been poor, but her life would be filled with happiness because they’d have each other, regardless of how cliche that seemed; she truly believed it.
It had all been for nothing, though. The dreams she had planned for eons were up in smoke.
Her throat bobbed. His deceit still pained her, and thinking about it now tore the wound open slightly.
“My future looks entirely different now.”
It surprised her that she had yet to shed any tears for Clyde.
She didn’t love him anymore, but she did miss their shared moments, however tainted they now were.
But, if the dreams she had dreamt were all built on lies, she didn’t want anything to do with them.
She was ready to let it go. Or at least, she wanted to be ready.
“Is that what woke you tonight?” There was curiosity in his voice, but she didn’t dare open her eyes, fearing she would find pity in his.
“Yes and no,” she explained. “I had a bad dream.”
“Those humans really did a number on you.”
They really had.
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he said. “As long as I am here, I’ll protect you.”