Chapter 7 Thayla
Thayla
Time stands still.
Well, actually, it speeds up to a level I can’t keep up with.
I watched, horrified, concerned, and feeling like I was being ripped open as Creed disappeared through his door.
Not a second later, Kyzen sprang into action.
He hasn’t spoken a word to me as I stand here frozen, staring down at the thin layer of blood on my palms.
Creed was covered in it in the strangest of places. From his knees down, his pants were drenched. Little droplets were falling from the bottom hem to the floor. His hands, his left arm, and part of his shirt as though someone wiped their face there to clean themselves off.
What in the realm did he do in the small amount of time he was gone?
Did someone hurt him?
“Kyzen,” I murmur as my chest grows tighter.
He continues to pull things out of the icebox. He’s already turned on the cooker, filled the kettle with water, and put it on the stove but didn’t cut it on. He placed a mug beside it and filled the infuser with fresh tea leaves.
Now he has a spread of vegetables laid out beside the cutting board, with a knife sitting on top of it. Flour is on the counter, with multiple other ingredients beside a bowl.
What is he doing?
“Kyzen,” I say firmer.
His head whips up, searching my eyes, then his gaze falls to my hands.
“Shit.” He rounds the counter and grips my wrist. “This isn’t your blood, right?”
“No, it came off Creed. What just happened?”
“I can’t tell you that. Not because I’m trying to keep it from you, but what just happened has everything to do with Creed’s role and his power. This…he never would’ve wanted you to see him this way.”
“He’s okay, though? That wasn’t his blood? He isn’t hurt?”
“Physically, he’s fine. That wasn’t his blood.”
His vague answers don’t go unnoticed, and my chest constricts more.
“I don’t understand.”
His face crumbles like I’m putting him in an impossible spot and that’s the last thing I want to do. I’m torn, though. I’ve never seen that look on Creed’s face. I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever seen that level of despair written across anyone’s features before.
My heart literally hurts as I replay his dark gray eyes shatter, turn white, then back repeatedly. It was like he was fighting himself for control.
And losing.
“I know and I’m sorry. I can’t explain this to you, though. He has to. When he’s ready.” I nod because I fully agree. I want to hear it from him, but that doesn’t lessen my concern.
His hand slides up my neck until he’s cupping my cheek.
“There’s so much about our past you don’t know and it’s not that we’re still trying to keep it from you. We just don’t…I worry once we find the courage to tell you, not only him, but all of us, you’ll want nothing to do with any of us.”
My lips part as I stare at him.
I caused this doubt. My freak-out put it in his mind that I’m going to judge them and hold their past over their heads. I haven’t said the first thing to ease those worries for him even after he told me his decision was made before we went to meet his father.
Make your decision, Thayla, and fucking stick to it.
“Kyzen…” I whisper, then take a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry for my initial reaction to hearing who your father was.
I let my fear take hold, which is a poor excuse, I know.
There’s still a lot about my past I haven’t shared that would make my reactions more understandable, but just like all of you, I’m trying to work up the courage to talk about it.
“Regardless, I didn’t handle your truth very well, and I’m so sorry. I swear to you, no matter what you tell me, it won’t change the way I see you or the others. I’m not going anywhere, nor do I want to. I’m going to be here, right at your side. That’s my decision.”
The air in my lungs gets trapped in my throat when his breath fans across my lips. Chill bumps race down my arms and my hands tremble.
“Little goddess.”
Time truly stops.
Everything around me ceases to exist. There’s nothing rushed or hungry in the way he kisses me. He breaks through the barrier of my stunned frozen lips and every stroke of his tongue becomes consuming.
Minutes, maybe longer, pass us by as there’s nothing but him and the warmth spreading through my body.
An embarrassing whimper slips from my throat when he slowly pulls away from me and lays his forehead to mine.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “I knew you’d taste like forever.”
A breathy laugh, one full of an emotion I’m not at all familiar with, rushes through me. I raise my hands to tangle them in his shirt and pull him back to me, but the faint, dried red painted on my palms sends me spiraling back to reality.
My abrupt silence has him tilting his chin down toward my violently shaking fingers.
“Why don’t you go take a shower while I finish up in here?
After that, we’ll go to the Athenaeum and see if Amick needs our help.
He’s already pissy that he had to cancel the meeting with the High Chancellor and we’re skipping out on our responsibilities on day one of planning, so he’ll be thrilled to see us. ”
He chuckles lightly and I search for the butterflies the sound always gives me. Right now, they barely lift their wings.
“Okay. I’ll be back out in a few,” I say, laying my cheek to his chest for a single comforting second.
His power slips from my skin the moment I step foot in my hallway.
Peering over my shoulder, it’s hard to make out his form as he zips around the kitchen. Part of me wants to go back into his little bubble of power. The other is screaming for me to scrub my hands raw.
I head straight through my room to my bathroom and do just that.
Blood has never bothered me before, but something about seeing my palms covered in what I first thought was Creed’s blood to now knowing it’s some stranger’s makes my stomach sink.
Did they try to hurt him?
Did he have to defend himself?
Why didn’t he take any of us with him?
What if he had died?
Why is my chest caving in?
The questions continue to filter through my mind as I rotate between scrubbing my hands with my fingernails, to cleaning underneath them.
Eventually, the water turns from pink to clear, but nothing about that clears my mind. I chase the lingering feeling of Kyzen’s kiss, but my own thoughts continue to ruin it.
I slam the faucet off as I grip the counter and try to catch my breath.
My head bows as my fingers tingle.
A smudge of red on my shirt has me shoving away from the sink and ripping the fabric over my head.
Everything inside of me goes cold as I take in my reflection in the mirror.
I’ve intentionally avoided looking at myself. The one glimpse I got when I showed the others my bruises was more than enough.
A sob threatens to crawl out of my throat as I run my shaking hand down my stomach, then my arms. The impressions are growing fainter, but right now, they’re still clear on my face, reminding me that if we fail, my body may soon enough be this color permanently.
My hands catch me as I tilt forward, and vibrations pass through my clenched fingers. My chest feels like it’s about to split me in two with how fast it’s rising and falling, uncoordinated with the erratic beat of my heart.
I rip my eyes from my reflection.
Unfortunately, they fall to my full-length mirror a few feet away, which provides the smallest view of my right shoulder blade.
I’ve completely avoided looking at my back. For good reason.
I was petrified about what the sight of myself might do to me.
Now I can’t look away.
My body pivots until I get a full view of my back. The slashes aren’t an angry red but a pale pink. They may obscure the others that were already there, but I have them mapped out in my mind.
The bruises hide the center points of three of the marks, but where they start, end, and the fourth across my lower back, stick out clearly.
The longer I stare, the image changes.
My blood slithers down my back. The bathroom walls become clay stone. Instead of my mirror, it’s a post.
The crack of the whip rings in my ears and I flinch at the sound.
No.
Everything within me starts to sting and quiver as I attempt to keep my mind from going where it’s going.
No matter how hard I fight it, the unrelenting pressure in my chest steals all my attention. That distraction allows my mind to spiral into one of many events I’ve tried tirelessly to block out.
The crack of the whip.
My scream tears from my throat and laughs ring out around me as my back bows. I swore I wouldn’t cry if he ever did this to me again. I’d be silent, hold it in, and not let him see me break.
That’s impossible.
Crack.
The agony roaring out of me from the last lash never had time to die before the next joins in. The laughing grows louder as another piece of my shirt falls away.
“Let me have a go, Mel. I’m the one she punched anyways.”
It was an accident…
My voice wants to shout out my defense, but I can’t get my raw throat to work.
I didn’t mean to hit Jeremiah.
He stepped in front of me to block Kuthro.
How could he, they, do this to me? After everything…
Crack.
Another cry pierces the air.
“I do love the sounds you make, sweet T.”
My head shakes, clearing the flashback that’s taken hold. I beg my eyes to gain clarity, realize I’m in my new bathroom, not the arena. Marble flashes across my sight momentarily, but not enough to keep me from sinking right back into my despair.
“J-Jeremiah, please.”
“Don’t please me, Thayla. You did this to yourself. You spoke out against the gods and have rioted against your punishment ever since. Give in and we may start going easier on you.”
“P-please.”
“What are you doing? Stop!”
A choked gasp falls from my lips at the sound of Lambrit’s voice. Fear and relief mix with the pain coursing through every inch of me. He shouldn’t concern himself with this. They’ll hurt him.
“Get the fuck out of the way, Lambrit,” Jeremiah barks.