Chapter 35 Eveera
Eveera
"Harder, Brighton, I don't think my son quite understands. I don't think he's quite learned his lesson yet. Do you?"
"No, your Majesty."
I struggle to lift myself off the ground, smoke pooling out from underneath my palms as the priest rears his foot back. "OOF!"
"Look at your lack of control, pathetic. You are a stain on this kingdom. A sign of darkness!"
"It's not my fault." I cry out, wincing from the pressure underneath my skin. "I DIDN'T WANT THIS! FATHER, PLEASE!" I can feel my face beginning to swell as I scream, the split in my cheek stinging.
Disgust swirls in my father's blue eyes as he witnesses my most recent "cleansing".
"If you didn't want it, you would control it. Suppress it. But you choose to continue humiliating me in my court!" My father roars. "Continue, Brighton."
The priest nods, a horrifying smile growing across his lips, "of course, your Majesty."
He drops down to one knee, his hands wrapping tightly around my throat.
The priest’s rough hold lifts my head off the ground, and with a vicious look on his face, he slams it back down onto the stone floor.
Blinding pain shoots through the back of my skull, and an involuntary groan exits my throat.
"P-please stop. I'll be good, I-I'll control it, but please please stop. "
—
Rorin gasps out, his hand grabbing the stone wall as he scrambles to catch his breath. "That's enough now."
I nod, circling Eiser in the chair. My palms slam down on the king's shaky shoulders, and I lean in, my Wield leaking over his bloodied frame.
"Eveera." His voice snaps me out of my magic's pull, and the black clears from my vision.
Coaxing the tendrils into my hands, I step away, watching Rorin stalk across the room. His tear-stained face is twisted in agony as he hovers above his father’s hanging head.
The king flinches when Rorin grabs hold of his swollen chin, jerking it up to look into his eyes.
"Ptuh! You still have nothing to say? Huh?" His hand rearing back — thwap! — the noise of his palm connecting with Eiser's temple echoes loudly in the dank cell. "SAY SOMETHING!"
The Vellaran king offers no words, no pleas, nothing to explain himself. Not that I'd expected the cold and cruel man to do so — but I'd hoped… for Rorin's sake.
THWAP!
He clocks the opposite side of his father's head. His hand lands a little too low, hitting squarely against his ear. This time Eiser moans loudly, the first sound he's volunteered since our interrogations began. "Ruh-ror…" He rasps, shakily trying to pin his ear against the top of his shoulder.
"You hated me that much? H-how could you hate me that fucking much?! Because I wasn't what you wanted me to be?" He shouts, stepping back again to pace in front of him. "Well, look at me now, father!"
I pull my lip between my teeth, watching as the man I know… the patient, tender, gentle man unravels. I suck in a sharp breath, my nostrils burning, while the air in the room turns acrid. My eyes feel the sting next and instantly water. I jerk my head down to look at Rorin's palms.
The mist of his Wield is spilling out uncontrollably, his anger disturbing the hold on his abilities.
Our seal tethering us together begs for me to pull him back, pain coursing up my arm as his Wield threatens to kill both Eiser and me.
"Rorin. You have to come back." I try, afraid he may already be too far gone. I know the feeling… I think woefully as I struggle to cross the room, my legs feeling weighted down. "Rorin — stop."
My hand stretches out towards him, mustering up what I can of my magic as I fight against him. A thin tendril Wields out, webbing over his hand to bind it.
His head dips down, looking at the restraint.
His hazel eyes grow wide and lift to find me leaning heavily against the wall.
"Nightmare…" he breathes, his magic knocking back into him.
A strangled cough comes up as clean air fills my lungs, and Rorin rushes over to me as my knees buckle.
"I'm sorry." He murmurs into my hair, holding me against his chest. "I'm so… "
"It's okay. I'm fine. I'm…"
Weakly, I slap his chest, seeing Eiser slumped over in the chair. Rorin lets out a hiss through his teeth, making sure I'm stable before stalking back over to his father.
A small rise of satisfaction rolls through me at seeing the king unresponsive, his son pressing two fingers against his pulse point.
"Lucky fucking bastard." He exhales, and my satisfaction fizzles out, the smile twitching at my lips tilting down into a frown.
Slowly, he reaches down, untying his wrists and ankles before pinching his cheeks between his fingers.
"Too bad I only knocked you out cold — it'd be better for you to be dead.
Because, you see, I'm just getting started. "
"It's been three weeks, Eveera."
"I know—" I answer, the two of us a bloody and sweaty mess as we make our way out of the dungeons.
"THREE WEEKS! And the most I get is a groan because he got hit? No remorse."
A sigh slips past my clenched teeth, and Rorin whirls around at the noise, his brow lifting. Frustrated, I drag my fingers through my hair, "did you expect him to? I know you wanted him to, but…"
"No — Eveera," he snaps, "I wasn't expecting an apology.
But I also wasn't expecting my fucking maker to sit there in silence, taking every hit, every blow as if it meant nothing to him.
My father's never known silence a day in his life, and now?
To take my punishments? To be forced into my shoes… now he suddenly has nothing to say?"
I rise onto his stair and back him into the curved wall, my hand resting on his chest. "We don't have to keep doing this. We can end this any time you want."
His head drops down, pressing his forehead into mine he grabs onto my hands. "I thought that if I took out my revenge and put him through the torture he forced me to endure, that it would break him, that it would— argh!"
“Would, what?"
"That it would miraculously undo the damage that he caused. I could be fixed if he just suffered as much as I did, and once I'd had my fill — I'd kill him."
Hurt flashes through his features, and I feel his heart begin to race.
My right hand slides up the planes of his chest, reaching to cup his cheek.
"You are not damaged. Certainly not any more than I am.
" A laugh slips past his lips, and he angles his mouth to press a gentle kiss on the inside of my palm.
"Nothing about you needs fixing, Rorin." He nods subtly at my words, begrudgingly accepting them.
I rise onto my toes and guide his mouth down to mine. He lets out a low groan, his fingers dancing up and down my waist. "Not enough."
"What?"
His right arm bands around my waist, pulling me tightly against him and breathing me in. This time, he groans more audibly, nipping at my bottom lip, "I said— not. enough."
Any space between us dissipates as his mouth crashes into mine. Our lips move together in a way that feels like they are never meant to be apart.
The hunger behind it isn't just want — it's need.
I push him back just enough to catch my breath, his mouth moving feverishly down the edge of my jaw as I whisper, "you're not a monster."
The words stop him sharply, and the absence of his lips against my skin leaves me cold. "History would argue otherwise." His head falls to my shoulder, and I weave my hands into his hair, trying not to shudder as his fingers skim the bottom of my breasts.
"He broke the boy you were once — don't give him the satisfaction of breaking the man you've become. He doesn't get to take away one more thing from us."
Rorin lifts his eyes to me, dragging his fingers along the side of my chest and up the column of my throat until his palm wraps behind my neck. "Tell me again…"
"I hate you," I mutter, humor filling my voice. He responds with a sharp tug to the hair at the base of my neck, and a wide smile breaks across my face.
"Again."
"I… hate… you." I snark, darting out of his hold and out into the dimly lit hall.
"Damn woman." He huffs, his heavy footsteps picking up the chase. "You're going to pay for that, Nightmare."
I can't help the laughter that bubbles out from my chest when I look over my shoulder, anticipation rising with my heartbeat, the closer he gets. Fingertips graze my waist, and I squeal, jumping away from the touch.
Regrettably, I misjudge my distance and land squarely against his opposite hand, his arms quick to secure across my waist again. Struggling against his grip, his fingers move deftly along my skin, causing my fit of laughter to grow louder as he tickles. "No. No no no no! Rorin!"
"Tell me those three little words, or this is going to get a lot more uncomfortable for you."
"I hate you." He snorts, his head falling on top of mine as he tightens his hold. "Don't you da—" movement catches in my peripheral vision, and my head snaps towards the shadows.
Rorin slows his movement, feeling the shift in my demeanor, setting me back down firmly on the ground. We each reach for our weapons, my dagger feeling cold in my palm as I release it from its sheath.
I grip onto it tightly as the voices attached to two shadowy figures become clearer.
Felix comes into view first, and relief starts to fill my chest. Instinctually, I start to put my dagger away, but Rorin stays my hand.
I tilt my chin up to look at him. His brows have pulled together in a scowl, his eyes darkening. With a harsh shove, he pushes me back, putting himself between Felix and me.
"Rorin…" Our head of council’s voice draws out a warning plain in his tone, and I try to peer around my husband's bicep.
"How dare you?" He breathes.
Forcing his arm out of my way, I step forward, planting myself next to him again. My stomach plummets when I see who's standing beside him.
"Ezra."
My vision blackens the moment our eyes lock. Felix's head tilting as he tracks my movements, "just— hear him out."