Twenty Two
Alara
Rohan carries me through the camp and I bury my face in his neck, listening to the dragons roar in the distance.
Pain is ever present, and I breathe through the nausea with each step he takes.
I must have passed out because I don’t even remember getting out of the cell, I don’t remember how we were allowed to leave.
I don’t care. I just want to sleep, want the pain to stop.
“Is she okay?” Tofa asks.
Beau’s voice comes next. “Can we help?”
“Do you need anything?” Kaldar asks.
“I’ll grab water,” Calian says. “Adora, grab supplies from the healer’s tent.”
A flap opens, and then I’m very slowly placed down onto furs.
Rohan’s scent surrounds me, and I revel in the comfort of it.
I’m away from that cell, away from that man, away from my nightmares.
I unconsciously lift a hand to my neck, and large, warm fingers wrap around my wrist, placing it over my heart instead.
My eyes finally open to the blurred image of Rohan crouching next to me.
His face is twisted in concern as his gaze roams over me.
He moves away after placing a soft kiss on my forehead.
I stay still, listening to the fire crackling, the distant murmurs of the clan.
It isn’t long until he’s back. “I need to undress you and get you into the tub, is that okay?”
I nod shakily.
Rohan won’t hurt me.
He won’t.
Rohan carefully helps me sit up, pausing at every whimper I make. He’s just bringing his hands to the bottom of my torn tunic when the flap opens, causing me to flinch.
“Sorry,” Tofa says softly, eyes tearing up. “Do you need any help?”
Rohan glares at her as she comes closer, placing a satchel down.
I nod and she helps Rohan gently remove the rest of my clothes, some having to be cut away where the dried blood has made it stick to my skin.
“Oh, Alara,” she murmurs when they’re fully removed, and I sniffle. She rifles through the satchel. “I am no Asseya, but she taught me a thing or two, you know?”
She brings out some sort of cream, looking at my side.
“Burns?” she asks softly, and I nod, not looking at the mangled flesh.
I do look at Rohan though, but he looks away, and my stomach sinks.
Does he find me repulsive now?
He can’t bear to look at me anymore.
I feel sick at the thought.
“Let’s get you in the bath,” Tofa says as she helps me to my feet, making sure to let me pause to breathe through the pain.
Rohan stands off to the side, looking down at the ground as I gingerly walk to the tub.
I stare at it, wondering how I’m going to climb in.
“Here,” Rohan says, suddenly appearing next to me. He gently lifts me into the warm water, causing me to hiss.
He tenses, looking away. “I’ll get some fresh clothes,” he says abruptly, and I watch the flap close as he leaves.
Tofa slowly washes me, and I don’t even wince at the pain, letting some of that numbness from earlier take hold of me.
“I’ll put some paste on after we get you dry. It will help the healing and take the pain away.”
I nod, unable to say anything, and she lifts the soap to my hair. I freeze.
Only Rohan washes my hair, or I do.
But does it even matter anymore?
I can’t bear to look at it, feel it.
Seeing it on the cell floor in uneven strips felt like it tore something from my soul while Emerish hacked away.
I know it’s just hair.
It will grow back.
But it represents so much more than that to me now… and most of it is gone.
Violated.
I swallow the sob building in my throat as Tofa gently washes my hair and I close my eyes, silent tears tracking down my face.
“Ready to get out?” she asks, and I nod.
I let her gently guide me out and wrap me in a towel, leading me back over to the bed so she can put cream on my injuries.
I’m covered in bruises and welts, cuts and lacerations, they’re already healing. The burn on my side is the most painful.
She spreads a salve across that burn, and I jerk away, on the verge of passing out as white-hot pain engulfs it.
“Breathe,” Tofa murmurs. I gasp, steadying myself and after a few moments, the burning cools, and I sigh in relief. “Good. Now drink this. It’ll also help.”
I want to ask where she got all this from, but I don’t care enough to.
I drink the concoction she hands me.
The taste is so disgusting that I wash it down with some water.
I sit there dazed, every breath painful.
It’s when she starts to comb my hair that I snap out of it.
“Stop,” I cry, and she does, coming around to stand in front of me.
“It’s okay, Alara, I stopped, see?” She holds up the comb as my breathing picks up, heart beating painfully. “You’re okay.”
She watches me, eyes filled with concern as I try to get my breathing under control. Try to stop my body from shaking.
The tent flap opens and Rohan comes in, clothes in hand. He stills when he sees my tears.
“I’ll take my leave,” Tofa murmurs, squeezing my hand before she heads out.
Rohan grabs her arm to halt her exit. “What did you do?” he asks, eyes never leaving me.
She whispers something to him that causes him to grit his teeth and nod, and then she leaves.
Rohan stares at me until my gaze flits away, a strange feeling of shame filling me.
“I got you some fresh clothes.” He comes forward and places them beside the bed. “Let me help—”
He reaches for the towel and I jolt away.
I don’t know why I did it, I didn’t mean to, but Rohan stills, hand out.
“I can do it,” I whisper, still unable to look at him.
There is a heavy pause, and then he steps back. “Okay.”
“Can… Can you please turn around?” I ask quietly.
“What?” My gaze flicks to him for a moment, and he frowns, fingers clenching at his sides.
A moment later, he turns around, back tense.
I undo the towel slowly, grabbing the tunic and never once looking at my body.
I don’t want to see it, and Rohan certainly doesn’t want to either.
I lift the tunic to put it on, but it pulls at my side and I cry out, gasping for air.
“What is it?” Rohan demands, and he starts to turn toward me.
“Nothing! Stop!” I panic, clutching the tunic to my chest.
He freezes, shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breaths.
“I’m… I’m fine,” I rush out. “Just twisted wrong. I’m not dressed yet.”
He takes another deep breath, and when he doesn’t turn any further toward me, I continue to get dressed.
It isn’t easy, it hurts to move my arms, to try and lift the tunic above my head after hanging for days, and after the fourth failed attempt, I’m unable to hold back my whimpers of pain.
And it seems Rohan has had enough.
“Fuck this.” He growls and turns, storming over to me.
“Rohan!” I yelp, bringing the tunic back to my chest, trying to hide as much of my body as possible.
Rohan stills at the movement, brows furrowing. “What are you doing?” he grits out.
“N-nothing.”
“You’re hiding from me, why?” His eyes roam over me, and I look away. “Why are you hiding your body from me, Little Whisperer?” He suddenly takes a step back. “Am I scaring you?”
“What?” I look up at him. His face is contorted, like he’s in pain at the thought. “No. Of course not.”
He makes me feel safe. The only one who makes me feel safe.
“Then why…” he pauses, staring at me intently and then he’s closing the gap between us, dropping to his knees before me.
My eyes widen, fingers twisting in the tunic. He raises a hand and slowly, so, so slowly, he peels my fingers away, letting the material drop to my thighs.
“Tell me why,” he asks gently, never once looking down at my nakedness. His eyes stay focused on my own.
“I—” My throat tightens, closing up.
“Be brave,” he encourages when he senses that I’m struggling.
“I don’t want you to see.”
He frowns. “See what?”
“My body.”
He stills, eye sharp, his throat moving on a rough swallow.
“Did he…”
His eyes turn distant, and I know instantly where his mind went.
“No, not… nothing like that.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, leaning forward and resting his head on my knees. “Then what is it?” he mumbles, his arms wrapping around the back of my legs. Holding me.
“You shouldn’t have to look at me.”
“What?”
“It’s… disgusting.”
His arms tighten. “Disgusting?” The word is low, dark, sending shivers down my spine.
“Yes… I’m… mangled,” the words scrape from my throat. “Ugly. Tainted.”
A heavy silence follows, and then Rohan slowly lifts his head from my knees and looks up at me, eyes full of emotion.
“You think I don’t want to look at you?” he asks slowly.
I nod.
“Why?”
“You… You wouldn’t look at me before, when Tofa was undressing me.” I look down. “You didn’t bathe me.”
My voice cracks, and tears sting my eyes.
Bathing is something we’ve always done together since we first met. Since he took me. It’s something I cherish now, and he walked away instead.
He lifts a hand to my chin, stroking my cheek.
“I didn’t want to look at you because I’m holding it together by a single, torn thread, Alara.
The anger I feel,” he grits his teeth, shaking his head.
“I feel like it will tear me apart at any moment and I cannot afford to lose myself right now, not when I need to take care of you. Not when I have you all to protect the best I can even though I’m fucking failing.
If I lose myself, people will be hurt. The wrong people will be hurt and fuck, Alara, we are already hurting. ”
His words are full of anger and pain, and yet, he still strokes my cheek with such gentleness.
“To see what he did…” His eyes flash and he tilts my face down, making sure I’m looking at him.
“I want to tear him apart with my bare hands, and make no mistake, Little Whisperer, I will,” he growls.
“I vow it under Morana’s will. One way or another, he will be dead after he’s known immense suffering. ”
My breathing stutters, and my hands slowly relax. And for the first time, his eyes lower, his gaze roaming over my body.
His hand drops from my chin to my collarbone, there’s a bruise there, I realize from the ache. His fingers follow the pattern of purple, tracing every injury he can see across my chest, my arms, my ribs, around my stomach.
“He will be paid back in kind. He will suffer until his last breath, and he will regret the day he ever put his hands on you, my Little Whisperer, for it was his undoing.”
I shiver at his tone, staring deeply into purple ringed eyes that seem to pulse with an untamed wildness, and yet, it doesn’t scare me.
Not one bit.
When he reaches the burn on my side, his breathing halts.
“If I could rid you of all of this and take all your pain away, it would take less than a single heartbeat for me to do it.”
“Rohan…”
His eyes flick up to mine, hands gently resting on my thighs.
“Your body doesn’t disgust me, Alara, it never could. You’re not ugly, tainted.” He grabs my hand and places it over his heart. “You feel that?” I do. His heart is racing. “That’s what you do to me, what you’ve always done to me.”
I sniffle, nodding.
“Now, let me fix my mistake.” He stands and gently pulls me over to the tub, the towel clutched to my chest. “Let me wash you.”
He undresses with ease, watching me as he does and then he holds out his hand, waiting for me.
After a breath, I hand over the towel. “Good girl.”
He gets into the tub, then reaches over and picks me up, gently placing me in the water.
We get as comfortable as possible, Rohan at my back. He grabs the cloth and begins to bathe my already clean body.
“The cream…”
“It has already been absorbed, is it helping?” he asks.
I think about it and yes, the pain is more of an ache now. “Yes. What about the drink Tofa gave me?”
“It will help you rest.”
Is that why I feel sleepy? Or is it just being with Rohan? My body knowing it’s safe?
Rohan takes his time cleaning me while I sit between his legs, and I rest my head on his bent knee, looping my arm around it loosely while he washes my back.
Then he goes for my hair.
My shoulders hunch, body tense.
“Shh, I have you,” he murmurs.
I slowly relax, letting myself breathe.
We don’t speak as he begins to wash the uneven strands, taking care of it in the same way he always has.
I think I fall asleep for a little while, because the next thing I know he’s picking me up and wrapping me in a towel before he places me back on the furs.
I yawn and watch him gather a plate, then sits beside me, tearing at some bread and dipping it in broth before he brings it to my lips.
“Open.” I do, taking the bread and he makes a pleased sound. “More,” he encourages when I’m done, and I manage a few bits before I shake my head. “Full?”
I nod, yawning again.
He removes the towel, gently urging me to lay back.
I do, and he gets on his knees, hovering over me.
We stare at each other as he brings his hands up to hold my head, thumbs on my cheeks before he places a gentle kiss to my lips.
Then he drops his mouth to my collarbone, kissing there.
Over the bruise, I realize.
And he doesn’t stop there.
He moves over me, never once putting his weight on me as he kisses every single mark, every single bruise or cut on my body, whispering how brave I am, how beautiful I am.
Tears track down the sides of my face and I lift a hand to his head as he reaches my hip, kissing me there. He doesn’t stop until he gets to my feet, rubbing them.
I’m boneless by the time he’s done, and he helps me into the fresh tunic, laying down beside me.
“This isn’t how we sleep.”
He shakes his head. “I won’t hurt you.”
“You could never hurt me.”
He smiles sadly at that. “But I did.”
I sigh, holding my hand out and he laces his fingers through mine without question. I trace the marks from the chains, and then hold it close to my chest.
“And I forgive you for it,” I murmur, eyes falling shut.
There’s a long pause, before, “sleep, my Little Whisperer. I’ll be here, watching over you.”