Chapter 19
Alora
The Devourer stirs in the makeshift bed Caym piled together with scattered linens. Exhaustion wears into my bones, my limbs heavy in my lap.
I lean back against the tufted chaise lounge, books and random fabrics stacked haphazardly, leaving no room to actually sit.
Across from me lies Leeson. She’s cradled on her side, tucked into Caym. I’ve been watching her restless sleep take hold, her arms twitching and face contorting, surely due to the terrors we faced outside of this room that’s become our fortress.
I wasn’t prepared to see so many bodies. The elderly, men and women alike, even the innocent. The far too innocent.
Only few remain alive in Treach, and they might as well be phantoms by the broken expressions on their faces. Their hollowed gazes stir far more fear inside of me than the frost that snaps at the gates.
The unnatural mist has cloaked the outside perimeter of Treach in white fog that dances menacingly, beckoning the survivors to walk into it, only to be devoured and never seen again.
The world outside of this room has become a hellscape, and I’m not sure we’ll survive it.
I watch The Devourer’s lips move in his sleep, the ones that keep pursing together.
Gods know how long I’ve stared at his mouth, imagining it on mine. I wonder if his lips taste like sunshine, if they’d give warmth to my broken soul, or if they were delectable darkness. The forbidden kisses that draw electricity into your veins, the ones that crackle down to your core.
I keep watching his face, like a stationed guardian, battle ready for the moment his eyes crack open to reveal the green I’ve become accustomed to.
As if he can sense my presence, he shifts his body toward me, a soft groan bubbling up from his throat. I rip my gaze to see if the slumbering couple across from me wakes, but to my relief they don’t.
He slowly sits up and looks around, it’s almost comical seeing him out of his element.
I don’t know why I find such satisfaction watching him wake. Perhaps it’s because I’ve begun to enjoy our shared moments together, the ones where we say nothing but somehow speak a thousand words in one glance.
His brilliant green eyes lock on mine and the weight of them heaves against the walls I once thought impenetrable. My heart pangs.
“You called me by my name.” My breath hitches. Shit.
“You said Kassiel.”
One thing about The Devourer is certain, he yearns. The world could be burning down around us and he would still be gaping at me the way he is now, like someone who’s taken their first breath. Like someone who hungers for something other than food.
“I must not have realized I used it.” I’m lying through my teeth.
Of course I knew I used it, because the moment his name left my lips I wanted to snatch it back, as if I could steal back the prayer and keep it to myself.
His searching gaze leaves me feeling raw, like he can see through my facade and I’m utterly exposed.
“Don’t hide from this, Alora.” The knot in my throat tightens and the last threads that hold me together threaten to fray.
I swallow thickly, choking down everything left unsaid. The last hours ticked by painfully slow as I awaited to see if he would wake from that. I couldn’t bring myself to run away like I’d wanted.
The moments I guarded over his sleeping form were only bearable because of the whispers in my heart that willed his chest to keep heaving. The unsaid pleas of hope and torment.
I can’t help it when my eyes brim with tears. If I give words to the feelings that strangle me, I’d reveal too much. I’d be a betrayer and traitor. I would have to admit that the stolen glances were more than attraction.
The hot beads begin to run down my soiled face. At once, The Devourer rolls to his side in an effort to sit up.
I put my hands up, gesturing for him to stop. If he touches me, I’m not sure my poorly structured walls would hold.
“Alora,” he extends his hand to clasp around mine and whispers, “you never have to hide your tears from me.”
His skin is like a balm against my achy limbs as he rubs his calloused hand along my forearm.
He continues to sit up, his movements slow and purposeful. The fabric of his dark trousers, worn by weather and our journey, slides quietly against itself.
Leeson and Caym still sleep, exhaustion keeping them under the sweet spell.
“I was so worried for you. I still am.” My whispered confession has him leaning closer to me, his forehead planting on mine.
“What happened back there?” I say as I pull my head back, searching his green gaze for truths that haven’t been spoken.
I want to reach inside of me, pull my heart out, and throw the damned thing for how loudly it beats with his proximity.
His reverent touch slows and he pulls his hands back from me.
I can’t help it when my fingers graze his and find their way to his inky hair, just like I can’t help the way I feel when I push his tousled locks out of his eyes.
His hands find mine again and he gives a gentle squeeze before releasing and then moving to grasp his shirt collar.
“This mark, I didn’t take it willingly. That much is true, but it was justified.” He gestures to the shadowy band circling his throat. “It was branded with purpose, with intent to make me suffer.”
His reminiscent words from before the attack float to the forefront of my memory. “It burned as if venom from a fire serpent was ripping into my flesh. I became numb to it.”
“I’m not sure in which kingdom being a host to something so vicious is justified, but I assure you, I don’t believe you were deserving of that.”
His sad eyes soften, as if he’s not akin to such kindness. “I’m deserving of much worse.” His lips pull tight in a smile that feels misplaced.
“Is that what caused you such anguish earlier?” I continue to hold his gaze, daring him to answer or look away.
He does neither, at least not right away.
“I am a slave to my king, doomed to serve in whatever capacity he would have me.” He glances away, focusing on the faded wallpaper behind me.
Surely I’ve heard him wrong because if he speaks the truth, everything I’ve known will collapse.
“What do you mean a slave? You’re known throughout the kingdom as his friend, as the right hand to the king.”
“For years I was, make no mistake. I willingly sat by his side after I was broken enough.”
Shame dampens his green eyes, leaving them a much softer tone, muted.
“Years?” More uncertainty settles in the pit of my stomach. “At what age were you forced to align with him? And for what reason?”
Questions spin in my mind, leaving more unsaid words between us. The coiled tension between us suddenly cools and I’m not certain I want to dance with danger anymore.
I pull back, forcing space between us.
“I can’t explain everything to you just yet. I’m just asking you to trust me that not everything is as it seems.”
His throat bobs as he chokes back more unsaid words.
“I don’t know you.” The finality of my words hit their mark, and he sinks back to his side.
Hurt is quickly masked by a stony facade. He turns away from me and returns to the makeshift bed.
“If that is what you think, then so be it.” His clipped tone ends the conversation.
I huff a sigh, knowing that we won’t get farther on this while we’re so close to others.
The truth is I don’t know him. This man is capable of ruination, damning souls and devouring them with his magic.
But there is something that gnaws deep within, grating at my skull and begging to be revealed, to show me unknown secrets.
“Why do I feel this connection to you, Devourer?”
He scoffs, the mask cracking.
“You can’t stand to see me as something other than a monster, can you?”
I let the silence build. He’s right, my compulsion to hold those accountable battles with my undeniable feelings toward him.
“What do you mean?” Another lie.
I relax my hands from the fists I had inadvertently formed.
Moving my legs from beneath me, I straighten and stretch my back as I wipe the clammy sweat from my palms. My focus catches on my dress.
Noticing the soiled garment, I suddenly feel self—conscious.
I pull at the hem in a poor attempt to straighten the damned thing.
“You call me Devourer. It’s as simple as that.” My eyes jolt to his face. “You refuse to name me.” With this, his eyes pop open, the same sullen hue coloring them.
If I could crawl inside myself and hide within my skin at his accusation, however truthful, I would.
They say The Devourer is ruthless. Wicked. Remorseless. A monster.
Monster. Much like myself, just in my own tormented way.
Surely if I dissected the worst parts of me, they’d reveal the same as his.
I blink back the sting that threatens to blur my vision.
“As much as I’d love to continue this uplifting conversation, there are real problems we need to face.” My voice threatens to crack with the ache in my throat.
He continues to lay there, unmoved and unbothered. I look away, forcing myself to watch the small fire that dries Leeson and Caym’s clothing until my vision turns bleary from unshed tears.
A fissure begins to form in my chest, as if all the unspoken words from the last week would rupture. In one seemingly swift moment, The Devourer has gotten under my skin. His needling of indifference only perfects the tapestry of my shame.
The prospect of staying in this room longer is enough to have me pushing to my feet. With my rumpled hem in hand, I nudge him rather hard with my boot.
“Up. We’ve wasted enough time while you so leisurely napped.”
The callousness seeps off my sharp words.
I turn my back to him and saunter over to Caym and Leeson.
Wincing as I kneel on the grimy floor, I gently touch Leeson’s pale shoulder. Her unclothed body stirs under the dark blanket that’s wrapped around her and Caym.
Her honey—colored eyes slowly peel open.
“Why in gods’ names are you waking me?” Her sight hardens on me.
All I can do is offer her a small smile. “We can’t stay here, it’s forsaken.” This small respite has given us more than we bargained for. We couldn’t have known what lay before us upon entering Treach. “There’s nothing here worth saving, we have to go tell the council.”
The lump in my throat is back, but movement behind me has me choking down the emotion.
“What do you mean, ‘it’s forsaken’?” The Devourer’s words loom coolly in the air.
I rise again from the floor and twist to see him behind me, fully standing, shadowing me in his dim umbra.
Defiance, yet again, has me straightening my spine.
“The village had been ransacked. There are few survivors.”
His eyes darken, threatening something more sinister.
“Who?” The question spills from his lips like venom and my arms pebble.
I’m not often intimidated, but seeing the sudden change in him has my belly dipping in a twisted way.
“It was King Euron’s soldiers. They killed nearly all of them, women and children included.” The words slip out in a hushed whisper.
“Show me where.” It’s not so much a question as it is a raw, sorrowful demand.
Turning back to Leeson, she simply watches him and then slowly moves her gaze to mine. After a quick nod, she turns partially covered body to Caym.
With the most reverent kiss, she attempts to wake the slumbering man.
It’s not the first time I’ve witnessed their tenderness with each other. Affection isn’t uncommon, especially in bonded couples, but it always makes me flush with something. Not quite embarrassment, but akin to fervor.
Though this time, the devastation that looms behind our fortress is too great. I can’t feel anything other than dread for what I’m about to bear witness to again.
“Well, Devourer, let’s leave them to it.” Without another thought, I’m across the room and reaching for the door handle to twist, before I have a chance to second guess if I really want to go back out there, where desecration is the only consort to the world.