Chapter Twelve
Drip, drip, drip.
The sound of dripping water echoed in my head over and over as my senses slowly returned to me.
My eyelids were too heavy to lift at first, so I worked on regaining control and the feeling of my body as I thought about how I’d gotten here.
I worked my way up physically, wiggling my toes and fingers, and then flexing my arm and leg muscles from bottom to top until I was once again aware of my form. Once I did that, I realized just how much my foot hurt.
It took a moment, but then the why came rushing back.
Aviva.
Her lackeys.
The prisoner escaping.
A knife to the foot.
Dust blown in my face.
And then it was all dark after that.
At that last thought, my eyes snapped open, quickly adjusting to the darkness of the dungeon entry room I’d found myself in. I groaned as I sat up, my body stiff.
How had I let this happen?
How had I let myself be bested—and by my original student, no less?
The zirilium in my blood grew in strength as my frustration and anger rose. The more I recounted what had happened, the worse my mood became, and the more questions I had that were left unanswered.
Rising from the cold ground, I leaned against the wall beside me as my head spun. I waited for the dizziness to pass, then began the trek up the spiral stairs.
All forty-two steps.
But with each step I took, the more solid my resolve became.
It was time to move on.
I could stay in denial no longer.
It had become clear to me by now that Aviva had not only betrayed me by staying in the South, seemingly not against her will, but she’d also already replaced me. And with who I could only assume was our half-sister, no less!
The name Matea had been scribbled on the back of the portrait I’d found with Mother’s things—though it seemed my guess had likely been correct, anyway.
By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I practically burst through the heavy metal door, only to find my guards passed out on the ground before me.
As I had been moments earlier.
Reaching down, I ripped off the Heartshire family crest pin both males wore over their heart. I pocketed the pins, taking note to dismiss each and every guard that had failed to stop my twin and her companions.
I tried to ignore the way the sun was already creeping over the horizon, meaning I’d been out since last night.
It would only serve to anger me further.
Doing my best to ignore the power surging within me, I left the two males there and simply started walking.
I was so stuck inside my own spiraling thoughts of abandonment and grief that I didn’t realize where my feet were taking me until I’d arrived.
Right in the middle of Aviva’s chambers.
The air had grown stale inside, but it still held the sweetness of the floral soaps she used to cleanse her hair with. The smell should have been a comfort, but instead it only stoked the embers I felt heating inside my chest.
Aviva had always been my better half. The one that could feel so strongly, even for those she didn’t know personally. The one that had the free spirit, and enjoyed doing things just for the fun of it. The one who was always trying to better herself, whether it be through knowledge or experiences.
She had just been… better.
Somewhere along the way, it seemed she had lost all of that.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of myself in Aviva’s vanity mirror. Unable to help myself, I turned to face my reflection.
I nearly cringed away from what I saw.
My hair was grimy, my clothing wrinkled. I had heavy bags under my eyes, and various layers of dirt and ash on me from the fight and the night on the dungeon floor.
But under that, I could almost see my twin looking back at me. The twin I had known, the version of herself she was before she left.
Almost.
It was still too close for comfort.
Fury striking hard and fast, I swiped everything off the vanity in one swift motion. I watched as the mirror fell and broke, the shards reflecting pieces of me back to myself as it shattered on impact.
With that act motivating me, I marched over to the wardrobe next, yanking out the priceless dresses Father had bought her and tossing them onto the floor, ripping some as I went.
Next, I stomped over to the bookshelf. Her books and tomes had meant so much to her—some more priceless than all her gowns combined.
I couldn’t have cared less as I grabbed them all, starting one by one and working my way up to armfuls of them, and throwing them all across the room. I tore pages out as I went, or ripped the covers and bindings apart.
It wasn’t until I was panting heavily from the energy exerted that I realized my hands had been aflame that entire time.
And I had set fire to everything I had touched.
It was as though I had been the embers of a weak fire, and my emotions had been the spark it needed to return to life.
The room filled with smoke quickly, but I had nothing left in me to care with.
Seeing the wreckage I had caused, I dropped to my knees in the middle of the space, the fire fleeing from me, doing me no harm.
Finally, I yelled out.
I screamed until my voice gave out, tears streaming freely as my anger and frustration and hurt and grief became too much to bear. It was too much to hold inside, and so I was letting it out the only way I knew how.
The entire room was ablaze around me by the time my tears ran dry. I lay there, curled up in a ball, trying my hardest to not exist as I listened to the fire and embers crackle around me as it ate what connections I had left to my twin.
All the while, the fire had not come within a foot of where I lay.