Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
The little shadow was gone.
Araya couldn’t say when it had slipped away. One moment it had been curled around her, a cool anchor against her side as she shook with silent sobs, terrified of what nightmares sleep would bring. The next, she’d opened heavy eyes to the pale wash of muted sunlight creeping across the floor—alone.
She slid out of bed, wincing as every muscle screamed in protest. Everything hurt, her chest still tight and aching with the lingering remnant of the panic that had gripped her.
But Araya still stumbled into the bathing chamber, gripping the edge of the basin as she forced herself to meet her own eyes in the mirror.
She barely recognized herself. Her silver eyes swollen and bloodshot—how many years had it been since she wept? Surely, not since her earliest years at Kaldrath, where she’d learned that tears didn’t win you any mercy.
Araya ducked her head, scrubbing cold water over her face. The chill shocked her awake, stinging her skin and clearing her mind. She was on Eluneth. She was the guest of the crown prince—the same male who had forced her to hold a knife to her own throat.
Araya grimaced, tilting her head to study the scabbed over scrape on her neck.
It looked worse than she expected, an ugly reminder of how little control she really had here despite Loren’s insistence that she was free.
She swallowed hard, shoving away the memory of the blade at her throat, of Loren’s power twisting her body to his will—the sooner she figured out how to break this link between them and negotiated her return to the New Dominion, the better.
She picked up the brush, dragging it through her snarled hair until she could yank it back into her customary braid.
Once she got back to the New Dominion, she could fix everything.
All she had to do was figure out how to break the traitorous bond that curled in her chest. As long as Jaxon never knew it existed, she could go back to her old life. Safe.
She repeated it like a mantra, over and over, until her heartbeat slowed and the ache in her chest dulled. Safe—she’d be safe with Jaxon. He’d never made her hold a knife to her own throat. As long as she remembered her place, she could be happy there. Happy with him.
But she didn’t dare try to speak the words aloud.
She set the brush down, focusing on pulling her newly-tamed hair back into her usual braid.
She was just wrapping the tie around the end when someone knocked softly on the door.
Araya froze, her heart leaping into her throat.
For a moment, she thought it might be Loren—but the bond sat heavy in her chest, unresponsive.
“Araya?” Thorne called out, his voice as gentle as his knock. “May I come in?”
“Just a moment.” Araya glanced in the mirror one last time, dragging her braid over her shoulder like it could hide the raw scrape on her throat before she hurried across the room, pulling away the chair she’d wedged beneath the knob.
“Good morning.” Thorne’s amber eyes flicked to the chair, his eyebrows rising.
“You said to lock the door,” Araya snapped, more defensively than she’d meant. “I don’t have a key, so—”
“You don’t have a key to your own room?” Thorne stepped back, his expression darkening. “Why not?”
“I assume because Loren doesn’t want me to have a key.” Araya crossed her arms, lifting her chin. “Barricading the door works fine—”
“You shouldn’t have to barricade the door to your own bedroom,” Thorne said firmly. “I’ll find out where it went—Veria must have a copy at the very least.”
“And what will Loren have to say about that?” Araya demanded.
Thorne’s mouth tightened, but his voice stayed gentle. “Loren isn’t here, Araya.”
Araya stared at him, almost not certain she heard him right. “What?”
“He left for Lumaria last night,” Thorne said.
Araya fell back a step, grabbing the back of the chair for support as the world tilted under her feet.
Her chest hollowed out, the strange stillness of the bond suddenly making far too much sense.
He was gone. She wouldn’t have to face him, wouldn’t have to look him in the eye as he told her what he’d done had been for her own good.
He’d just left her here without a word of explanation—
“When will he be back?” She managed to ask finally, her voice hoarse.
“I don’t know.” Thorne watched her carefully, the kindness on his face almost too much to bear. “It may be a while. He asked me to take over your training for now.”
“And what does that mean?” Araya demanded. Heat prickled across her skin, the ache in her chest giving way to the sting of betrayal. “Do you see how many commands I can choke down before I break? Or are you going to force me to throw myself off the wall—”
“I thought it might be better to start with breakfast,” Thorne said easily. “Unless you feel like you’d rather hit something?” He arched an eyebrow, smiling at her. “I’ll warn you though, I have no intention of being a standing target.”
Araya’s cheeks burned, shame and confusion twisting with her anger. Thorne wasn’t the one who deserved her ire. There person she really wanted to fight had fled in the night. Abandoning her.
“Breakfast is fine,” she said finally, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat. “Lead the way.”
She’d always eaten breakfast in her room, the covered tray waiting for her on the small table when she opened her eyes every morning. But Thorne led her back through the halls, until they reached the dining room Loren had destroyed that horrible night.
Someone had swept up the glass, the soiled linens replaced by a fresh like nothing had ever happened. Only two places had been set at the table—she truly must have been the last one here to learn Loren had left.
Thorne sat, pulling the silver dome off his plate to reveal a steaming portion of fluffy eggs alongside a heel of the dark, crusty bread they ate here and a few of the salted, preserved fish that seemed to accompany every single meal.
Araya joined him hesitantly, shocked to discover her own portion came with the addition of a small dish of fresh berries, their deep color a startling purple against the pillowy bed of fresh cream.
Her mouth watered at the sight—she hadn’t seen fresh fruit since she woke up on that boat. But Thorne only grinned.
“Veria likes you,” he said, like that was some sort of explanation.
Araya picked up her spoon, closing her eyes as sweetness burst across her tongue, perfectly complimented by the sour tang of clotted cream. She forced herself to eat it slowly, savoring each tiny bite until the dish was heartbreakingly empty.
“Healing starts with little things,” Thorne said suddenly, pausing to chew. “Rest, confidence that you’re safe. The space to breathe and appreciate the things that make you happy.”
Araya’s spoon clinked against the empty dish. “They’re just berries.”
“Did they make you happy?” Thorne’s amber eyes flicked toward her, steady and unreadable. “You deserve to feel safe and happy, Araya. Something I’m afraid we haven’t been very good at giving you.”
“You took me away from the place where I was safe and happy,” Araya snapped. “You and Loren and Nyra—you drugged me and put me on that boat.”
“You were safe and happy with the man who slammed your head into the desk hard enough to give you a concussion?” Thorne raised his eyebrows at her, his gentle tone never wavering. “The man who drained your power and left you to suffer all night, only taking you to a Healer in the morning?”
Araya’s face heated. “He’s not always like that.”
Thorne didn’t argue with her, using the last bit of his bread to scoop up his eggs instead. He chewed, the silence stretching uneasily between them until he finally swallowed, laying his fork across his empty plate.
“I’m not here to tell you how to feel about Jaxon.
Or Loren, for that matter. I’m here to remind you that your choices and your power belong to you.
Until you believe that, no amount of training will help you unlock the control you buried years ago in order to survive in a world that would otherwise have destroyed you. ”
“So what?” Araya shoved her chair back from the table. Her chest ached, his words making the empty place where the bond lay silent twist painfully. “You want me to sit here and eat berries until I somehow become enlightened and embrace your way of doing things?”
“Not exactly.” Thorne’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “I thought you could put yourself to work helping Veria in the kitchens. Busy hands, and all that.”
Araya blinked at him, incredulous. “You want me to work in the kitchens.”
“For now,” Thorne said, nodding like she’d asked a question. “I think it would be for the best. There might only be a few of us here, but Ithralis is a pretty large castle for one person to manage. Even when that person is Veria.”
Araya opened her mouth, then snapped it closed again. Out of everything she’d expected when Thorne had said he was taking over her training, this hadn’t been something she’d imagined.
“You’re serious,” she finally managed.
“As serious as I’ve ever been,” Thorne said cheerfully. He stood, nudging his plate toward her. “There’s a tray for the dishes right over there.”
Araya stared down at the dirty plates, her jaw tightening. “And what if I don’t want to play scullery maid?” she demanded. “I didn’t spend years fighting to be more than a servant just to scrub dishes for you.”
“Then don’t.” Thorne shrugged, unbothered. “Sit in your room. Go to the library. Wander the halls—it’s all up to you, Araya. But I’d rather scrub dishes than sit around tearing myself apart over something that was never my fault.”
He stood, taking no notice of how she gaped at him. With a cheerful nod, he strolled from the room, his jaunty whistle fading with his footsteps like he hadn’t just upended every one of her expectations.