Chapter 33 Zara
Chapter thirty-three
Zara
It's been two days since my Court was attacked. Two days since my world all but evaporated. Two days since my father was murdered right in front of me.
I haven’t slept. I haven’t really eaten much either. How I’m still able to function is beyond me. Perhaps, I’m not. Not really. I’m simply a shell of myself hustling to get everyone out of the palace as safely and as quickly as possible.
Everyone who's left anyway. There aren’t many.
I roll to my side in bed and reach out for Leer but my hand lands on the empty space where he lay, holding me close to him the night before.
I haven’t left his side since we left the safe room, and the creeping sense of panic floods my brain.
My cheeks are hot, and tears sting my eyes.
My hands tremble and gooseflesh crawls over my skin.
I burrow myself deep under the blankets and wait.
Wait for Unseelie soldiers to burst into the room and burn what’s left of Masseda to the ground. Wait for Leer to come and whisk me away to his Court. Wait for death. I can barely breathe under the weight of the comforter and my anxiety.
I have to get out.
I climb from the safety of my bed, and race out of the room and down the hall toward the main corridor.
No one is milling about the hall. Not that there would be as there are only about ten of us who survived.
I draw in rapid bursts of air, now sprinting through the castle in a desperate search for someone. Anyone. I can’t handle being alone.
I stop short and swing right up the winding staircase toward Emlyn’s room.
I’m out of breath by the time I get to her door which is torn from its hinges.
Patches of burnt carpet scratch my bare feet and dried blood splatters the floor and walls.
I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from dry heaving.
Emlyn isn’t in her rooms. I wipe the tears puddling in my eyes and back away from the nightmare toward my chambers.
Alfrie's there, hopefully healing, in the bed I once called my own. Perhaps that’s where Leer has gone.
I knock but don’t hear any sound coming from inside.
I push the door open, the old wood groaning with effort, and slip inside.
A single lantern shines a soft light in the otherwise pitch-black space.
No one is here except for a sleeping Alfrie. I tip-toe closer to the bed and silently lower myself into one of the armchairs by the window. I don’t want to wake him. I just don’t want to be alone.
He appears to be peacefully sleeping, unlike the night before.
He cried out repeatedly for someone whose name I didn’t recognize.
He awoke, covered in sweat, tears streaming from his eyes and calling my name.
Alfrie was ill, and most likely hallucinating, but in that moment, a small part of me wanted to believe it was more than that.
That perhaps he was dreaming of me…needed me.
I desperately wanted to lie next to him, and pull him close, comfort him until he fell asleep again.
But I did none of those things. It wouldn’t be right.
Yet here I am again. I watch him for a moment, his chest rising and falling gently, his blond hair messy from sleep and sickness. His pointed ears stick out just under his short hair, and it’s jarring. I’ve come to know him as a human. He's still beautiful. Even ill and weak.
I tear my gaze from his perfect face and look around at the rooms that used to be mine. It was a place where I could escape to when I longed for comfort, but now, it's a dark and lonely space. I pull my knees to my chest and shiver.
This room. This palace. This used to be my home.
And after a few short hours it’s now a painful reminder of a life that I’ll never have again.
I wrap my arms around my legs tighter as the walls begin to close in around me.
The lantern flickers and I shrink into myself, fear and anxiety constricting my ribs, threatening to swallow me whole.
I slip quietly from the armchair and crawl on top of the blankets and lie next to Alfrie, moving as close as possible without waking him. I curl into a ball facing him, but don’t dare come close enough to touch him. I just need to feel someone close to me. I need to know that I’m not alone.
I just want to feel safe.
He stirs and I freeze, terrified he’ll wake up and toss me out of the room.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he rolls over to his side and faces in my direction.
His eyes are peacefully closed, still lost in his own dreams. He reaches out his hand and places it on top of mine before pulling it to his chest.
I watch him for a beat, ensuring he’s still asleep.
His breathing is easy, and his lips are parted slightly as he dozes.
I consider pulling my hand away, but his touch is warm and comforting.
I gently scoot closer to him, his lips so dangerously near my own that his rhythmic breaths wisp against my cheek.
My heart flutters and before I can think, my mouth connects softly with his. Just slightly. Brushing along the smooth curvature of his lips. I quickly flip onto my back, but don't move my hand that's safely tucked into his chest.
I’m not well. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m not thinking. I glance over at him, still asleep and resting without worry, and I swallow down another onset of tears.
I sigh and close my eyes hoping that sleep finally comes for me tonight.
I’m thrust from what must have been a deep sleep with a jolt.
My eyes shoot open, and I’m dazed for a second trying to get my bearings.
I’m no longer lying in my bed in the palace.
I’m curled into a corner of a moving carriage.
Emlyn sits beside me, and Elara is asleep, leaning her hooded head against the window on the bench opposite me.
I gaze at her for a minute, curious how she can sleep so soundly after…
after. She looks more at peace than I’ve ever seen her before—when our Court wasn’t covered in ash and blood.
I rub my eyes. It’s just my imagination.
The ride is bumpy, and my head aches with exhaustion. “When did we leave? How did I even get into the carriage?” We hit a pothole along the road and the carriage bounces uncomfortably, making my head throb.
“At daybreak. Leer carried you. Apparently, he found you lying in bed with Alfrie late last night. He told me he went to check on his squire and got a surprise.” Emlyn leans close to me and whispers the last bit, raising her eyebrow.
Her skin is still pale, but the light has returned to her amber eyes.
The image of her lying lifeless on the palace floor after being strangled settles in my mind.
I shudder and grip the seat, reminding myself that I’m not in that place. She’s alive. I’m safe.
I squeeze her hand.
She returns the gesture and smiles. “We should be to Lanray by tomorrow afternoon.” She tilts her head as if waiting for me to say something. “Are you really not going to say anything about sleeping with Alfrie?”
“I didn’t sleep with Alfrie. I went looking for Leer or you or—,” I almost say ‘my father’ but then I remember.
I gulp, “I couldn’t find anyone. I guess I was just scared and needed to know that someone was with me.
That I wasn’t alone.” I avoid mentioning my state of panic and how I was sobbing as I raced down the empty halls through pools of blood and charred carpet.
Nor do I tell her about Alfrie holding my hand close to him as he slept. Or the fact that I kissed him, and can’t seem to stop thinking about him. Instead, I ask about my betrothed. “Was Leer upset? Where is he, anyway?” I lean forward to peek out the window.
“The males are riding horseback.” She points to her left and I spot King Hardin riding my horse beside the carriage. “Leer didn’t say much, but he didn’t look pleased either.”
Oh gods. It must’ve looked pretty bad. I was just so scared and tired.
“And Alfrie?” I close my eyes in embarrassment, imagining how Alfrie must have felt waking up to me sleeping beside him.
If he had been feeling better, I’m sure finding me in his bed would have made him feel crappy all over again.
“He’s doing better. He and Alix are riding slower behind us.”
I sink back into the cushion on the carriage bench. Emlyn scoots closer to me and rests her head on my shoulder. She hasn’t mentioned the attack. I wonder if she’s trying to block it out of her memory like I am. “Em?”
“Hmm?”
“My father…is. Is.”
“I know.” She wraps her arm around my waist.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from sobbing.
“You go to Lanray. Marry Leer. Start over. He said he’ll train his army with Alix, and they’ll declare war on the Unseelie Court. And, who knows? Perhaps we can rebuild Masseda and you can be queen of both Courts.” Emlyn peers up at me and wipes a tear from my cheek.
My tears stop falling, and I’m struck by the realization that I am nothing.
I am a useless creature.
I can’t shift. I can barely fight. If I had listened to my father and left for Lanray after the first attack, maybe he would still be here. My home is gone. My father is dead.
Masseda is no more.
And I’m no more a queen than Emlyn.
The only thing I have left is my status, and I’m nothing more than the bride of a prince.