Chapter 4 #2
I do not regret helping Everest. I do not regret saving Rathyn.
But I feel the loss of my world a little too keenly in this moment, knowing that it’s not just me who will suffer, but my brothers left behind in the village…
My chest begins to ache from the inside. No amount of cum or herbs will heal that pain. Knowing I will never see our moons again, our sky, the eriek trees, the ashahl flowers in the Outerlands when they are in full bloom?
I pass my hand down my chest and startle when I realize they’ve removed the metal from my nipples and my navel. In the pain, I hadn’t realized the demotion.
My fingers move to my ears, and those are gone as well. The only one that remains is from my sire. The metal in my tongue clinks against my fangs, and once again, grief overwhelms me.
I want to tip my head back and sing—to release some of this pain—but I know I cannot. Not here. It would rumble the fragile walls of Dante’s home and draw attention to where I am, and I cannot take that risk.
So, I push it all down as I turn the water off, then use the towel that smells the most like Dante to dry off.
Back in the bedroom, I glance around, but all I have is my pink coat, which Dante took from Everest, and the stained bit of fabric that Everest had draped over me when he found me lying beside the portal.
I do not want the fabric. I do not want to smell like the Eretharian dungeons. I do not want to smell like the guards. I want to burn it along with the memories of everything that happened to me.
I spy a silky robe hanging from the back of a door, and walk over, letting my fingers trail over the edges. It is soft and light. Not nearly as breathable as our garments back home, but it is something.
It smells like Dante, too. I slip it over my shoulders, and the weight of it is strangely comforting. I don’t bother with the ties as I walk into the empty living room.
My hackles suddenly rise, and my ears twitch as I hear the sound of a door opening. It’s coming from the kitchen, and I extend my claws, ready to gut anyone who would help themselves to Dante’s home.
Rushing around the corner, I pull my arm back only to freeze at the sight of very wide, dark blue eyes and hundreds of little brown dots all over the intruder’s face.
He is…familiar.
He is Luca, Dante’s brother.
He makes a startled noise and holds up both hands in surrender, taking several steps back in fear. Shame overwhelms me, and my arm falls to my side as my knees start to buckle. But before I can hit the floor and beg his forgiveness, his arms come around me, catching me halfway to my knees.
He hums something soft and off-tune, guiding me up with a surprising strength for a human. I follow, the claws of my feet dragging along the floor as he brings me to the couch to sit.
It smells like me, too. Like injury and pain, but I’m not foolish enough to complain about it.
Luca sits on the low table in front of me, gently tapping the back of my hand to get my attention. ‘Pain?’ he asks.
I shake my head. ‘No. Sorry.’
His brows furrow in confusion. ‘Sorry?’
I don’t have the signs yet, or the words, so instead I lift my hand and extend my claws for a moment. His flinch reminds me that I am still a monster to so many humans, even if they are kind to us.
‘Sorry,’ I sign again. ‘You afraid.’
He shakes his head and cradles both of his hands around mine, as if to show me he’s not scared. His fingertips graze the slits where my claws extend, then he meets my gaze and holds it.
It’s hard to let him. It’s hard not to sink into deference and tilt my head, exposing the vulnerable parts of my neck, but I manage to do what he wants and hold still.
Pulling his hands back, he signs something else, but I don’t understand. I haven’t absorbed enough yet. I need time and a lexicon in order to take it all in.
It becomes obvious after a moment I’m not understanding, then he clears his throat. “I’m leaving,” he says. His voice is thickly accented and nothing like his brother’s. “I will be gone,” he adds very slowly, signing along so I can learn, “a week.”
I can’t really conceptualize what a week means. I know that human time moves differently. That their sun is closer than ours, and their world turns faster. I obviously know day from night, but other than that, I still haven’t made total sense of it.
I wonder if I ever will.
“You need anything before I go?”
My tongue darts out to wet my lips, then I shake my head. ‘No. Thank you.’
He always gets a happy little glint in his eye when I use the signed language with him, and it makes me wonder if many humans know it.
I have a feeling they don’t. I had not seen it before meeting Dante, and even at the shared dinner we all had, it was mostly Dante who ensured that Luca understood the conversation.
I know the pain he must feel. The sensation of what it’s like to feel alone, even surrounded by your own species. Isolation like that is overwhelming, and my heart aches for him.
“I have something for you,” he adds in voice and sign. Standing up, he leaves the room and comes back a moment later with a brown fabric bag and sets it on the table. “To learn.”
He opens the bag, and inside are small boxes. They’re adorned with images of small children smiling and holding their hands up in shapes I’m starting to recognize.
He opens one of the small boxes with a loud pop, and inside is a round, silver disc. He turns away from me, then kneels in front of the large black TV, similar to the one Everest enjoyed so much at Rathyn’s apartment.
I don’t know much about it other than it shows recorded images of humans doing random things like cooking, or kissing, or fighting. I didn’t understand the purpose then, but it brought Everest joy, so I assumed it was a very uniquely human thing.
He inserts the disc into another black square machine, and after a moment, music starts to play.
“Welcome to Introductory ASL,” a voice says, soft and soothing.
Luca holds up one finger, then pushes buttons on a thing that looks like a long phone before coming to sit beside me. ‘Watch,’ he signs, then hits a button.
A moment later, there are four children and one maternal-looking human female, and they’re signing rapidly. I can follow some words, but not all of them.
“Hello, friends,” the woman says and signs. “Today we’re all going to learn about our favorite colors. Are you excited?”
The kids all wave their hands in the air.
Luca hits a button again, then presses the device against my palm and points to a button. “Play,” he says, “to start the video. Pause,” he shows me another one, “if you want to stop. Dante will help with the rest when he gets home from work.”
I can tell Luca doesn’t use his voice much. It’s raspy and slow, and his tongue seems as sticky as mine when I try to use it.
I want to learn more of his language so he doesn’t have to put himself through the frustration.
‘Thank you,’ I sign, hesitate, then add, ‘Why?’
He huffs and shakes his head. “To learn. Gia can help, too.”
Gia. She smells a bit like them. Like family.
She was kind to me last night, too. I keep expecting to be rejected and ridiculed.
To suffer the pain my punishment was meant to cause.
Loneliness was my sentence. I am meant to feel it for all of the time I have left, but Dante and his family seem determined not to let that happen.
‘Thank you,’ I sign again.
He pats my arm. “When I come back, we can chat-chat.”
I don’t know what that means, but I nod all the same. He stands and squeezes my shoulder, then walks off without another word. I think that is perhaps a human goodbye.
Or perhaps what humans do when the sight of us overwhelms them.
I can’t blame him. To them, we are monsters, and with the scars on my body, I suppose I can understand his fear.
Though the herbs and the cum have helped, I am still healing, and I have slept more than I ever have in my life. I wish to be in Dante’s bed again, but I don’t know how welcome I am, and he’s not here to ask.
So, I fill myself with the kirrashev Rathyn left for me, then rest against the sofa cushions, watching and following along with the ASL video until I hear a familiar song at the front door. It takes me a moment to register that it’s not normal for a Vyastil to be calling for me while I’m here.
I have been banished.
I jump to my feet, and panic floods through me because I recognize the accent of the song. It’s someone from the palace. I don’t know who, but it’s very likely a member of the enforcement to ensure that I have not broken any further laws.
Except, I have.
I have consumed cum without being given permission to drink what humans provide, outside of a reward for service. And I will not be receiving any of those. Not anymore. And never again.
Terror has my knees trembling, and when I open the door, I feel all the strength leave my body.
Quilliyn is standing there, his blue hair in two buns at the nape of his neck, his eyes narrowed and focused on me. I have met him several times, but the last time I heard his voice was the day I was being released.
He fought for me.
For Everest.
I’m certain it was a favor to my friend, but the consequences for him could have been severe, in spite of the fact that he’s a prince, so I still do not understand why he took the risk.
I swallow heavily, then go stiff when he steps toward me and inclines his head. Never have I touched foreheads with someone of his station, but I dip mine, and he presses them together.
“I am grateful to see you on your feet,” he murmurs. Hearing my language is a balm to my soul, even though the words are coming from a prince, which terrifies me. Pulling back, he glances over my shoulder. “Is Dante here?”
“The human is at his workplace,” I explain.
Quilliyn nods, then shuffles his feet like he’s nervous. “May I come in?”
It is not my place to give permission, but I think that Dante and Quilliyn are friendly. Dante goes to his gym sometimes and has always been so very welcoming to everyone.
Besides, I will happily take a punishment from Dante over what Quilliyn could order me to do.
Stepping aside, I allow him to move past me, and his gaze darts around, taking it all in before he sits on the edge of a couch cushion and waits for me to join him.
I hesitate, then start to kneel when he catches me. “Please don’t. Not here.”
I stare at him.
“I know who I am. What I am,” he adds. “But I’m not the prince while I’m here.”
I don’t know what to make of that because Vyastil are who they are, no matter what realm they walk. I might be in this gorgeous space with a kind human, but I am still an outcast.
Quilliyn takes me by both hands and urges me to sit beside him before letting go. There’s been so much touching since I arrived. So much contact. It’s soothing in ways I didn’t know it could be, but also terrifying because losing it would be a greater pain than I want to bear.
“Tell me you’re okay,” he says after a moment. His gaze flickers down to my scarred chest and the spaces where my adornments are gone. His expression falls. “Truly. You’re healing alright?”
I nod. “The humans have been very kind.”
His face softens. “Yes. Some of them are.”
And some are not, goes unspoken.
“They wouldn’t let me see you after you were granted the pardon from the dungeons,” he says. “I was…worried.”
I bow my head. “Your favor to Everest is fulfilled. I am healing.”
He stiffens and catches my gaze. “Everest told me what happened, but I would have come for you. What happened wasn’t fair, Cielo.”
I haven’t heard my name spoken in my tongue in a while. Even Rathyn avoids using it unless he has to. The feeling sits heavy in my chest.
“I broke the law.”
“A bullshit law,” he spits. One of the words is not Eretharian at all. “You would have been punished if you’d denied Rathyn’s companion anything. And then you were punished when you obeyed orders. How is that fair?”
He isn’t wrong. But our laws have never seemed to favor anyone but people of his station. Of Rathyn’s station.
So I say nothing.
After a while, he lets out a long breath of air.
“You can be happy here, you know. I…I know it’s horrible.
I know the feeling of missing home.” He closes his eyes, and I fight the urge to remind him he can go back any time he chooses.
That this life—this exile—was something he wanted.
“There’s so much here that can be good.”
I hesitate, then say, “Hugging?”
He laughs. “Yeah. Hugging is amazing.”
“Kissing.” I have not experienced it, but I have seen the joy it brings Rathyn.
Quilliyn’s teal skin darkens. “Have you…”
“No.”
His mouth softens. “Kissing is good. And coffee.” I groan, and he laughs again. “There are joys here. Once you heal, we can find you a job. You’ll make friends. Maybe get your own place to live.”
Leave Dante? I feel a visceral reaction to that—like I want to claw him just for suggesting it. Would Dante want that? Would he bring another broken monster here to help heal?
I don’t realize I’m growling until Quilliyn holds up his hands and says, “Peace, Cielo.”
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I swallow heavily. “I am sorry.”
“No,” he insists. “No.” He shows a little fang, his ears flicking, then asks, “Have you taken from Dante?”
I quickly shake my head. “I am not allowed to—I am not permitted.”
Quilliyn sighs. “You don’t have to listen to all the rules. Not always.” He pauses, then adds, “No one would ever know.”
The thought is tempting and terrifying all at the same time. But I know what kind of pain my people can cause. I have felt it. And I know it would be worse than what I’ve already endured.
It isn’t worth the risk.
“All I mean is that you aren’t alone here, and as much as they want you to believe they are watching, they are not,” Quilliyn goes on.
He stands up after a moment, and I follow.
He might not want to be a prince, but he still is, and it feels wrong to stay seated when he isn’t.
“When you’re feeling up for it, come find me, and I can help you get settled.
Maybe meet some other humans, and other Vyastil who have chosen to leave Erethar. ”
I nod, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to give up being with Dante, to leave his home. But what if that is what Dante is waiting for? Perhaps I am healing too fast.
Too soon.
I’m not ready to go.
“Thank you,” I manage to get out.
Quilliyn gives me a long, steady look, then nods and starts toward the door. Before he lets himself out, he looks back at me. “I think Dante is good for you. When he wants to help…let him.”
Then he’s gone, and I sink back down, not sure what he means. But I know he’s trying to tell me something without using words.