Chapter 23
twenty-three
. . .
Aten
The triune that cloaked us from sight also circles us until we’re out of the way. My hand is covered in blood from the gash on my arm, and I watch in anger as Kalan picks Ever up to take her away.
I tilt my head to Crimson and give her a slight nod, and then elbow the man to my side, before rounding on the one to the other side and laying a punch to his jaw, then stomach. He crumples, and I eye up the second man.
“Crim?”
The guffs and moans confirm she’s doing fine, her own guard on the floor, but reinforcements seem to swarm from nowhere.
“The perimeter. They’re fast, Ten. What do you want to do? You’re hurt.”
Even if we can fight our way free here, there are more people to get through, to beat. I reach for the knife at my back, only to remember that Ever still has it.
“Don’t do it. You might think you can leave. You can’t.” The guard who’s been watching over us in our cell says from behind us.
“You sound pretty sure for someone who left Kirrasia because you were weak.” Crimson’s comment taunts the man, and he charges right for her. She’s fast, but his punch connects with her face, slowing her down, and she only manages a counter swing with her leg, trying to bring him to the ground.
Two more men appear, penning me in and backing me up towards the mouth of the mountain. So, I push my concentration, and instead of physical violence, I try mental violence.
Nobody’s playing fair.
Why the fuck should I?
I pull on all my energy and force my will towards their minds. I’m less focused on what I see, more on causing them to stop and turn their intent on each other rather than me.
They’re already angry, and they just need the suggestion of who to aim it at. And it works for one of them, at least, which buys me some time to help Crimson.
But, as soon as I turn, the less affected one grabs hold of my injured arm and digs his fingers into the cut.
“Arghhh,” I grit through clenched teeth as the pain intensifies and short-circuits my focus, and the two men become five as reinforcements arrive.
Crim and I catch each other’s gaze, and, for a second, I want her to flee.
To save herself. To warn the others, get back to Kirrasia, or even Calix and Lyle in Estereah. Just save herself from being here.
She shakes her head, as if she hears my question, and lifts her hands in defeat, at least for today.
We’re backed up into our cage like animals, and the door slams shut.
No reprimands, no threats. Just cold iron bars and nobody in earshot. I curse my father for leaving me weak like this, and I curse my mother for not showing me how to aim my power like a weapon.
“Ten!”
“What?” I snap at her.
“You’re still bleeding. Calm down.”
“I’m fine. It’s Ever I’m worried about.”
“Don’t insult me. You’re hurt, and you’re angry. I know you, Ciro. And there’s no sparring area or Calix to take the edge off, so let it out another way.”
Her words sink in, and I want to rail against them and this feeling of helplessness.
“He’s torturing us, hurting her, and I have no fucking power to stop it.” My words break the dam of guilt I’ve been holding back over what I did to Ever.
Stars above, Aslendrix, forgive me.
“It wasn’t you, Ten.”
“It fucking was. It was the blade in my hand, my arms, my movement.” I’ve never had any trouble with fighting before, but feeling the blade sink into her flesh was too much.
It was worse than last time. This had intent and malice.
I felt it swarm and overtake me. Fenix’s emotions were all over his control of me, festering and suffocating, and they invaded like invisible claws hooking into my will.
“But it was Fenix. She knows that,” she placates, and that’s just it, it only placates me. It doesn’t fix the part of me that shredded Ever with the blade, as if each strike to her cut a piece of me away, too. The pieces of me I vowed to protect her with.
With the rest of my scattered thoughts, I shove the shields back around my mind. I build them as hard and strong as I can until I’m breathing hard with the strain.
She’ll be healed. She will be fine. I know that. But I need time to come to terms with our new reality.
The girl—the same one as last time—arrives a while later to patch me up. The gate isn’t opened to allow her inside our cell, but she does what she can through the bars to stop any further blood loss and then leaves.
I already know it’s not a great job, but it will help me to heal naturally, and I grimace at the thought of her mending Ever. She deserves Perrin or an equally gifted healer to repair her wounds. She has enough hurt in her life. She doesn’t need scars from my blade, too.
Crimson declines any help to heal the bruises she took. She’s tough and will wear the marks to her skin with pride rather than risk what the girl will do trying to mend her again.
“You should have run. It was a good chance. People were distracted, and you’re faster than anyone here. I’ll bet my life on it.”
“I’m not going to leave you, Ten. I want that snake to suffer. He nearly killed Calix. After seeing what he did to Ever, I think I should be thankful he left us alive.” She stands and comes to join me by my side at the mouth of the cave. “We’ll be okay, Ten. We’ll all get through this.”
Crimson didn’t realise how wrong she would be.
For the next few days, we have to relive the torture, over and over again.
More people come to push us from our holding cell to the arena, making the briefest of contacts and limiting any new power we can use.
Every day is the same. Ever is the puppet, with Fenix forcing her to play to his particular brand of torturous tune. Usually me.
I keep my shields up when we are fighting, blocking her pain from spilling into my own. But as soon as the swords fall, I drop the shield, needing her to feel how sorry I am for every slight, graze, or cut.
Getting through this is my own personal hell, and feeling her pain, too, drives me to the brink of insanity every night. Every injury, every stab or cut I take, I imagine is from him, and not the girl I love. Just like he’s inflicting every hurt on her, using me as his weapon.
The smallest mercy, if you can call it that, is that he’s not quite as vicious as before, keeping most of her injuries to surface wounds.
It isn’t me. It isn’t me.
We are alive. She is alive. Seeing her becomes more than a craving—it’s a necessity. Seeing her dragged off to be healed, leaving, not knowing if this time my sword pierced too deep, is an anguish I hate, and my nightmare stretches far beyond the confines of my fitful sleep.
Each day grows harder. And each day, it takes more of me to put up a fight against the overpowering control Fenix has. Fighting him, healing from the poor job of mending, keeping my metal shield in place, makes me feel little more than a husk of the man who set out to try and bring Ever home.
Ever learns to mask her emotions, too. Her eyes no longer shine like starlight when she looks at me. Hollows appear under them, as if sleep is eluding her, too—a mirror for my own restless nights.
“Don’t abandon me. I know this isn’t you. I know you’d never hurt me.” Her words travel our connection, and as much as I believe them, it doesn’t lessen the gut-wrenching pain inside of me.
“He is breaking me, Ever. He is forcing me to do this to you, and I have no control. No power to stop it.”
“He won’t let you really hurt me. He needs me. I’m his Twin. You need to hold on to that.”
Even through our connection, I sense the waver in her voice.
It doesn’t sound like she’s lying, but I know what he threatened her with.
She’s grasping, hoping that he’s bluffing.
Living through and seeing how far he’s willing to go to tame us, I’m losing hope that keeping Ever alive is enough of an incentive for him.
“I would kill for you, Ever. I have killed for you. I have been banished, defied any sense and logic, and made it back to you because I love you. But I don’t know how to fight this. I’m hurting you. I feel it when the blade slides into you, and it’s killing me.”
She has no answer to soothe the despair I’m trapped in.
The next day is the worst. It’s always the same, as if he’s chipping away at our resolve. And I realise that’s his plan. He wants us defeated, and leaving us in a bloody pile in the dirt is a sure way to prove that we are.
“Tell me we’re going to get out of this. Show me we’ll get out of this, Ever, because I’m not sure how much more I can take of hurting you. That’s not a future I want to be a part of.”
“We… will…”
But her thoughts are as weak as her defence, and I scrunch up my eyes for a moment, hoping to banish the picture of Ever, blood-soaked and struggling.
My body fills with the alien suffocation from Fenix, and my arm rises with the sword gripped in my hand. Shielding, blocking, resisting—nothing is enough against him. My limbs disobey me, and a phantom of movement overtakes. The sword thrusts forward, and the resistance Ever’s skin makes is futile.
The metal tears through her, cutting a gash in her side that brings nausea violently rolling in my stomach. The multiple wounds I’ve received are nothing—a scratch—in comparison. But I can taste my own lie on my tongue.
We both drop to the ground, soaked by the tears of our shared pain.
Fenix withdraws his influence, and I gasp for breath as Ever’s body gives out.
“Ever!” I croak as I reach for her hand, needing the contact to reassure me she’s still alive.
My fingers wrap around hers as I watch her shallow breaths—her pain, seeping through into my own.
And as the heat from our contact intensifies, the scattering images start, and instead of being afraid, I welcome them.
I want to see something to hope for. Something to believe in. Something to replace all this misery.
“Aslendrix, please!” I silently beg because Ever’s not said a word.
No pain can ever be worse than this, and as the images move faster, I hope to see something—anything—I can put my faith in.
But the images vanish, drifting away into the darkness before anything solidifies.
“Ever, don’t. You are the only light in this nightmare.
” I try again, tightening my grip on her hand as I pull myself towards her, closing the gap until I can watch her.
She’s still breathing. My hand strangles hers, refusing to let her go, but I’m struggling to draw on any power to even sense her.
Panic chokes me, as fear swarms the edge of my vision, and darkness draws in.
I blink, and my head falls back to the ground.
I watch through the shadows as she’s hauled away. Taken from me again.
“Ever! Ever!”
No pain. There is no pain.
When I wake, I’m back in the cell, my nightmares and the unanswered questions haunting both my waking and resting moments.
Crimson isn’t able to help. No one can. Not until that tiny pulse flickers along our connection to tell me she’s okay. It’s the longest night yet. We’ve played it too far. Too close. Fenix nearly killed his own sister.
As her voice comes to me, deep in the night, I send a prayer of thanks, again, to Aslendrix.
Ever barely speaks. A whisper of goodnight, the words seemingly cut away after the terror of the day. It isn’t just me putting up shields now. We both are.
The days continue, running together, only distinguished by the level of torment inflicted on us. My injuries keep coming. No time to heal before the next, and only helped by the quick job of the girl who can only seal my wounds.
And each wound pushes a river of pain between me and Ever. Over and over again.
Fenix finally switches up the training, seemingly bored with the physical marks and scars he has inflicted on us both. Or maybe he’s worried that he’s taking it too far, and that he might actually kill Ever.
Now it’s about her power, and he wants her to practice drawing on others.
Absorbing it. So, I become the watcher. Held, frozen, and forced to spectate as Ever is commanded to drain all of Crimson’s energy through touch.
Ever mouths words to Crimson while they are locked together, wrists wrapped around wrists.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry’, repeated over and over again, before Crimson drops to the floor, exhausted and empty.
The next day, it isn’t just Crimson who Ever is made to draw power from. It’s someone in Fenix’s ranks. Ever protests. Refuses. And I’m beaten for her disobedience, my eye beginning to close up to obscure my view before she agrees.
Her motivation.
She holds both their wrists together again until neither of them can stand any longer.
Over and over again, a new person is willingly sacrificed in front of Ever.
There are sparks of what their combinations can do.
Glimpses of possibilities, like during training back in Kirrasia, but Fenix soon shuts that down.
He isn’t interested in new possibilities or what her magic could become with the right person.
He wants her strong. For him. His weapon.
And every time they drop to the ground, Ever looks devastated.
“Hold on, Little Siren.” I push the words across the ring to her, unable to keep my shields in place for her when her distress is so loud around us.
“Don’t! You don’t know what it’s like to be forced to do this!” She wields around and stares at me, her eyes cloudy with darkness, her hair wild and untamed.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Remember, you’re not alone. I will take whatever you need me to take to help you.”
“I have to get better, Ten. I have to master my magic. Once and for all.” Her words are like a cry across the connection, and as her emotional pain piques, the wave of sorrow blasts like a snowstorm. “I can’t fight you and him. He’ll take everything from me if he can until I’m nothing.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I promise. “He won’t, Ever. I won’t let him.”
She looks up at me, a final pained expression on her face. “I’m sorry. I have to do this.”
But as I shout the words to her, I get nothing back, our connection now cold, devoid of any of the comfort it usually brings.
This isn’t like all the other times it had gone cold from her shielding or blocking.
This is worse. Like the tether that joined us, that secret line of communication to each other is absent. Missing.
“Ever!” I scream inside my head.
“Ever!” Out loud, this time, but she still doesn’t answer.
She ignores me and turns to Fenix.
In the blink of an eye, she’s in front of him, using Crimson’s speed, and then she grabs his face with both of her hands.
And in another blink of an eye, she’s on the other side of the ring. It doesn’t make any sense. Everything around us is the same, except for them.
And Ever’s holding a knife in her hand.
My knife.