Chapter Three
Willow
There was an emptiness I had never known before. It stretched through my body, from head to toe, where my powers used to be. Even as I lay with my eyes closed—my eyelids too heavy to move—it bothered me that I couldn’t reach for either one of them.
Forcing myself to peel them open, I expected to find myself in a rigid hospital bed. Instead, I was greeted by some weirdo watching me sleep in an unfamiliar room. ‘Who the hell are you?’
Taking a step back from hovering above me, he smirked, obviously full of himself. ‘Alec,’ he said, like that should mean something.
Assessing his physique, it seemed he could be dangerous, especially in my state. Though he didn’t appear outwardly violent, his obsessive eyes suggested a load of mental problems. ‘Is there something wrong with you, Alec?’
‘Why would there be something wrong with me?’ The bewilderment in his tone appeared genuine, which earned him an eye roll.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I ignored the pain and commented on the obvious, ‘Do you usually stand over women watching them breathe?’
The man’s eyebrows furrowed as he took a slight step back. ‘I’m watching to see if you improve.’
With him at a safer distance, I dared a peek at my abdomen. I was surprised there wasn’t more damage. Everything throbbed. The wound on my left side wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it felt as though the flesh was still torn. ‘Are you a healer? You’ve done a shitty job.’
Alec’s eyes narrowed at my words, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he assessed my injury. ‘I’m not, and according to the healers, they’ve done all they could; it’s a matter of time now.’
Incompetent fools. My healers would have repaired me in a matter of minutes. The subpar skills meant one thing.
This wasn’t Ortensia.
Shit.
‘What the hell is this place?’ I asked, looking around. It wasn’t a complete shithole, but I could no longer hear the waves.
My nearly nonexistent water magic demanded closeness to the sea. As weak as I was now, I tried to use it to locate the nearest pool, but emptiness greeted me.
I wasn’t used to powerlessness. Worry clawed through my mind as I realised I was at the stranger’s mercy.
‘Shadow Isles,’ the dark-haired fella answered, making me wince.
‘I want to go home.’
His eyes softened as he took a seat in the chair beside my bed and spoke gently, ‘Your home is currently riddled with corpses, so I doubt that’s a good idea.’
That really happened? How many days had I survived lying on that cold floor? Whatever they did to me wrecked me to the very core. Snatched the livelihood and replaced it with lead. I was certain I would die there.
But I survived… Of course, I did. Why wasn’t this fool telling me all I needed to know? ‘What are Shadow Islands?’
‘Shadow Isles. Your new home,’ he said with a smirk, his tone nonchalant, as though it were his decision to make.
The smugness sent a chill down my spine.
Just wait until my witchcraft recovers, you idiot, and you’ll learn how to speak to royalty.
When I pushed myself upright again, it took all of me not to laugh in his face. ‘Excuse me? I think the hell not.’
Alec chuckled, leaning back with his arms behind his head. ‘How exactly are you planning to get back then? And where to, considering the state of your court?’
Good question. I probably needed to come up with a plan. ‘We’ve got several castles I can choose from.’
His facial expression showed that he enjoyed the pointless discussion a little too much. ‘And who will protect you?’
‘Protect me?’ Mockery laced my reply as I assessed the seemingly genuine concern on his face. ‘I don’t need protection.’
An infuriating righteousness laced his tone as he regarded me like some damsel in distress. ‘From where I’m sitting, you do.’
I could turn you into a toad.
The remnants of my witchcraft itched to show him just how wrong he was. But I would only damage my wounds more, putting myself at the mercy of a man I attacked. It was an impossible situation. A test of my patience. I would hurt him later.
‘Well, I don’t really care what you think.' My flippant response lost its edge as I realised how pathetic it was to rely on a stranger. And a man at that. So embarrassing… I needed to kill him before the news got out.
‘That much is clear,’ he murmured, his eyes roaming over my body as though I were the one talking nonsense. ‘Tell me, Princess, was getting stabbed one of your defensive tactics then?’
‘You weren’t there, so fuck off.’
A dry laugh escaped him as he cracked his knuckles. ‘Some mouth on you. Are you always this feisty?’
Ignoring the pain, I hurled myself into a sitting position to face him. Everything pulled, and the edges of my vision blackened as my expression remained a grave void. His own darkened as he focused on my—yet again—bleeding injury.
I didn’t care. ‘Are you always this dumb?’
‘I’m not, you ungrateful shit. Lie down before you mess the stitches up,’ he barked, gesturing to my abdomen like he cared.
What the… No one had spoken to me like that in years. For good reason. ‘Shit? Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?’
‘Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?’ the imbecile mocked in a ridiculously high-pitched tone. ‘You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.’
Ugh. Male pride. They saw themselves as the eyes of the fucking universe. ‘I never asked you to help me.’
Eyebrows cocked, he seethed, his irises turning into black voids. ‘You didn’t fucking have to ask me. You were bleeding out in front of me. Fuck. I need air. You’re exhausting.’
‘Right back at you.’
Drifting in and out of sleep, I was unable to keep the cold from claiming my bones.
Limbs too heavy to lift, let alone support me, I relied on the help of a group of assistants.
They bathed and dressed me. A doctor hooked me up to intravenous medicines several times.
They were nice and caring and willing to do anything to help me recover.
Yet, I couldn’t help but groan my complaints.
Mental discomfort I could handle. Physical was where I drew the line.
Wetness dripped into my eyes, making me yelp as my arms reluctantly dragged up to shield them from the sudden assault.
‘Stop,’ I pleaded with whoever tried to waterboard me.
‘Sorry,’ the creepy stalker said, running a wet towel across my forehead.
Not him again. ‘Listen, Andrew—’
‘Alec.’
I huffed. ‘Leave now, and I won’t have to kill you.’
My threat made him chuckle. It was enough to make me want to punch him.
Reaching into the abyss in my heart, I cringed at how long it was taking to recuperate my powers. Attacking him now would probably kill me. His cackle made it seem almost worth it.
‘Your murderous tendencies are starting to worry me,’ he admitted. ‘Are you sure you’re well in the head?’
Good point. Did my therapist survive the attack?
Most likely not. That’s okay, she was useless anyway.
Closing my eyes, I focused on silencing the world around me. Nothing else existed—only me and the storm within my body. A storm that was gone, yet I traced its vicinity, tracking faint smidgens that would eventually grow back into its full might.
Somebody talked to me, but I ignored them. There was too much to consider. My court had fallen. Ortensia was in trouble. Some of my trusted circle had perished, and the others had proven to be traitors. Was there anything to come back to? Or was the painfully annoying guy right?
Was I homeless? Kingdomless?
Relentless doubts gave way to a distressed slumber that did nothing to replenish my strength or ease the discomfort. I didn’t know how much time had passed in a blur of strangers fussing over my broken body.
Hours, days, or weeks—it didn’t matter.
I lay useless and weak.
Pathetic.
The strange dawn lit up the room as I forced my limbs to drag myself out of bed. Enough was enough; I would not waste any more time.
My legs felt numb, as if I needed to shake off the debility. Forcing myself to take only the tiniest steps, I staggered toward the window, trying to figure out how to get back home.
Bracing myself on the windowsill, I rubbed my tired eyes. Whether it was a concussion or weird aftereffects from trauma, it appeared that the fields beyond the window were black.
Entire fields of black grass…
No one in Ortensia would have tolerated something that ugly.