⋆˖☽ Chapter 10 ☾˖⋆
2926 Words
Mira stood before Mikaeus, her spine a line of steel.
"You may head back first."
She cast a glance over her shoulder. A quick, assessing sweep of me—before giving Mikaeus a sharp nod. "Very well."
She turned and dissolved into the shadows of the main building, leaving us stranded in the biting cold. The frigid air whipped my hair across my face. Mikaeus remained rooted against the wind. Slowly, deliberately, he clasped his hands behind his back.
"I will walk you back."
My gaze drifted from the dark wood of the door to him. "That's fine."
I brushed past him, shouldering the heavy door open. The warmth from inside swallowed me like a thick blanket, shocking my frozen skin. I rubbed my hands together, breathing steam into my cupped palms. My fingers were clumsy, bordering on numb.
Mikaeus fell into step beside me. He shortened his long stride, tethering his pace to mine.
"Alanah..." His voice was tender, laden with a question he hadn't yet voiced.
"Hmm?" The hum vibrated against my lips.
A soft sound, frustration or perhaps worry, rumbled in his throat. Our eyes met. His searched mine with that earnest, piercing intensity I had grown to expect. Always that look, I thought. As if he believes the answers to his question will be revealed.
"Mira wasn't wrong."
My heart hammered a sudden, violent rhythm against my ribs, the sound echoing in my ears. I snapped my gaze to the floor as a flush of heat flooded my cheeks.
"What happened during the spar?"
I parted my lips to answer, but the voice died in my throat. I closed my eyes for a heartbeat, forcing myself to inhale, to steady the tremor threatening to rattle my chest.
Celia...
The name was a carving in my mind. A tremor seized my hand, and I buried it deep in the fabric of my trousers, making a fist to hide the weakness. The truth settled in the pit of my stomach.
Why did she have to come to mind? Why now?
Beside me, the rhythm of Mikaeus’s footsteps ceased. I mirrored him, turning slowly to face where he stood.
He loomed tall in the corridor, though the set of his shoulders was slumped, a shadow of a frown touching his lips. I could see thoughts warring behind his eyes, but the silence stretched between us, with words we were both too afraid to speak.
He took a step toward me. Then another.
Too close.
Instinct moved faster than thought. I retreated a sharp step, forcing the distance to remain between us, a physical barrier for my own sanity.
He froze immediately. The hurt was minute, but visible. "Mira can handle herself."
I turned from him, unable to bear the weight of his concern. "I know," I murmured, my voice barely a husk.
I started down the hall, leaving him behind in the pooling shadows. He remained rooted there a moment longer, but soon enough, I felt his presence drift to my side again like a tide returning to shore.
"You would have won," he said. His voice was calm.
My jaw tightened until my teeth ached as we began to ascend the stairs.
"Mira respects your skill," he countered gently, sensing my tension. "Was that not the point? To evaluate you?"
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, the tension bleeding out of my shoulders just enough to speak. "Yes... it was."
"I believe Mira will ask to spar you again. She rather enjoyed herself today."
"How can you speak for her?" I asked, glancing at him.
"I have known her since I was a boy." A shadow passed over his face, obscuring the gold in his eyes. "For a long time, she was the only friend I had."
We rounded the corner in silence, the only sound the soft scuff of our boots on the stone.
"She was the only one who understood what I went through," he added softly. He paused, his gaze dropping to the stones beneath our feet. "But now..."
He let out a heavy breath, shaking his head as if dispelling a memory.
"I am sorry, I forgot to ask." His voice dropped low, intimate. "Is there anything that you need?"
He paused in front of my door. My fingers curled around the cool metal of the handle, the sensation grounding me in reality.
"No," I replied softly. "There is nothing."
Nothing that you can give me, the thought whispered in the back of my mind.
He hovered at the entrance as I stepped inside, respecting the threshold. I froze, my gaze locked on his. Up close, I could see flecks of blue buried deep within the gold of his irises.
I forced myself to break the connection. "Thank you for walking me back."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips, sad and fleeting. "It was my pleasure."
I offered a crooked, weary smile in return and slowly closed the door between us. The latch clicked into place. A moment later, his footsteps began receding down the hall, leaving me to the silence.
I stripped off my soiled clothing, the fabric stiff with sweat and dust, and pulled on fresh trousers. I was tugging a clean shirt over my head when I froze.
Scritch.
The sound of something sharp dragging against wood.
I yanked the shirt down, straining to listen. It was coming from the door.
I glanced back. My bow lay too far away. My fingers curled instinctively around the hilt of my dagger. I threw the door open, unsheathing the steel in a single, fluid motion.
The hallway appeared empty. Yet, the hair on my arms stood on end. I felt a presence.
A soft meow broke the deadly silence.
My gaze snapped to the floor. A white cat with piercing blue eyes stared up at me, unbothered by the steel in my hand. I exhaled sharply, the adrenaline crashing, and slid the dagger back into its sheath as the creature scampered past me into my room.
"Where is your owner?"
The creature leapt onto my bed without a second thought, settling right beside my pillow and curling into a ball of white fur. It watched me with those intelligent, unnerving eyes, as if waiting for me to join it.
"What do you think you're doing?" I murmured, closing the door. "Shouldn't you return where you belong?"
In response, it simply closed an eye and rested its head.
I crept closer and sank onto the edge of the bed. As the mattress dipped under my weight, the cat’s head perked up again.
"You look as if you have no worries," I whispered. A bitter chuckle escaped my lips, harsh in the quiet room. "Must be nice."
My gaze fell to my hands resting in my lap. I turned them over, examining the palms. So much blood, I thought. Stained into the fingerprints. More to follow.
Suddenly, Celia's hazel eyes filled my mind, staring back at me as the light faded from them. The image was sharp, suffocatingly real.
"I hesitated today." I clenched my hands together, grounding myself in the physical pressure. "I have never hesitated."
The cat’s head tilted to the side. Its gaze was knowing, as if it understood the weight of my words and waited for the rest of the confession.
"I could have injured Mira today. Or worse."
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I sank onto the mattress, curling up beside the animal, seeking any source of warmth.
I am no monster. The thought was a desperate attempt to soothe the glacial cold spreading in my chest.
I lifted my trembling hand, and the cat leaned into my palm. The warmth of its soft fur was a strange, comfort against my calloused skin.
I closed my eyes. I will do my best to spare the innocent. But in this life, innocent blood is always shed.
The mattress seemed to rise up to envelop me, pulling my body down into the dark. My eyes fluttered shut as the cat curled against my side, its purr vibrating through my ribs like a second heartbeat.
Sleep swallowed me whole. I accepted the nightmare—I almost welcomed it. Anything to escape the waking world. The soft purr changed to a low growl. The smell of rot filling my senses.
But the darkness warped. A churning void of miasma surrounded me, thick and oily, parting like smoke to reveal a terrifying clarity.
Ondina.
She was kneeling on the floor of Ruslan's office. Her shirt hung in ruin, stripped away to expose deep, raw wounds carved across her back. Crimson trickled down her spine in an intricate map of pain. Her body was limp, her head hanging low, her long braid matted with drying blood.
"Ondina!"
I sprinted toward her, skidding to a halt. Tears blurred my vision, hot and stinging. "What has he done to you?"
I knelt, reaching out to save her, to drag her away from this place—but my fingers grasped only smoke. Her image warped, twisting into the miasma until she dissipated into gray nothingness.
"You're late."
My gaze snapped up. Ruslan hovered over me, his ice-blue eyes piercing straight through to my soul. A violent tremor took hold of my limbs, paralyzing me.
Instinct took over; I reached for my dagger. I surged to my feet and drove the blade forward with all the force of my hatred, aiming for his heart.
Air.
I stumbled forward, passing straight through him like he was a ghost, and crashed onto the unforgiving ground.
The pain hit.
It was sharp and agonizing in my stomach, a lance of fire. Warmth began to seep across my skin. Groaning, I managed to roll over. I looked down—crimson stained my clothing, blooming like a dark flower, spreading fast. The agony threatened to rip my body apart. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound escaped.
Ruslan stood above me. Watching me die.
He didn't smile. He simply raised a hand, fingers pinching something delicate that fluttered in the void. His hand extended as if offering a gift. But as my vision blurred, I saw what dangled from his pale fingers.
A strip of crimson silk. The ribbon he used to force me to wear.
"I have been waiting to return this to you," he said softly.
The red fabric uncoiled, drifting down toward me.
"You look so much better when you are properly marked." His voice echoed, coming from everywhere and nowhere. "I told you, Alanah. I always have what belongs to me."
My eyes snapped open. I sat up, gasping for air, my lungs burning.
The phantom pain lingered for a split second. A ghostly echo of the blade—before vanishing. My fingers frantically brushed my shirt, checking for the wound, but there was no sticky warmth. No blood.
A cold chill sank through my skin and muscle, settling deep in the bone. I bolted upright, gasping as if the air had been sucked from the room. The pulse in my ears drowned out the wind outside. I scanned the room, desperate for a distraction. The cat... where did it go?
The wind battered the walls, rattling the windowpane. The silence returned. I was alone.
I couldn't stay in bed. Ruslan's voice wasn't just a memory; it was a physical weight echoing in the corners of my mind. I gripped the sheets until my fingers cramped, twisting the rough grey linen into tight, unforgiving knots.
"He has no hold on me," I whispered to the dark. The words felt frail, but I forced them out.
I rose and went to the window, pressing a trembling hand against the cold glass. The red moon dominated the sky, bleeding crimson light onto the homes of Luminethra and the churning ocean below. The waves looked like ink and blood crashing against the coastline.
Ondina. The name was a sharp pang in my chest. I promise I will get them to help you. Please, just hang on. Do not let him break you.
I couldn't bear to stay in this room. The walls felt like they were closing in.
I glanced at my bow resting against the wall, curved and waiting. I won't need it. It is just a walk. But as I turned, my fingers brushed the cool metal of my dagger. I am safe here, I told myself, but I slid the blade into my thigh sheath.
I slipped into the corridor. The hall was bathed in deep crimson shadows, the flickering sconces casting dancing, distorted shapes against the walls. The estate felt alive, breathing around me. Somewhere below, soft footsteps echoed, out of rhythm with my own.
I rounded the corner just as a looming shadow rose to meet me. Emeric stepped into the light, the torch flames catching the red in his brown hair but leaving his eyes in darkness.
"You're running again." His voice cut through the silence, flat and devoid of warmth.
"I do not have my bow." I stopped, fighting the urge to lean against the wall for support. My feet felt heavy, rooted to the ground by exhaustion.
He stepped closer, the light finally revealing the harsh set of his jaw. His eyes swept over me, clinical and detached. I tried to still the tremor in my hands.
"You are damp with sweat." The venom was gone from his tone, replaced by an unnerving calculation. He tracked the shiver that rattled my shoulders. "And you are shaking."
I stiffened, heat crawling up my neck. "The room was hot."
He tilted his head, arching a skeptical eyebrow. "The estate is freezing. It is almost winter."
"I am fine." I shifted my weight, desperate to deflect his scrutiny. "Are you just here to ensure I do not run? "
"I do not care what you do." His voice dropped low, vibrating with frustration. "If I remember correctly, I am the one who let you run last time." His gaze lingered on my face a moment longer before sliding away, dismissing me. "I heard a noise."
I narrowed my eyes. "I have heard nothing. Are you making excuses now?"
His jaw clenched tight, a muscle feathering in his cheek. "I live here. You... you are but a guest on Luminethra."
He was right. The reminder stung. I averted my gaze, feeling the flush rise in my cheeks.
"I do not wish to sleep," I whispered. The admission slipped out before I could catch it, raw and honest.
The mask of cold indifference slipped from his face; his eyes widened in genuine, unguarded surprise.
"I do not believe," he murmured, looking past me into the shadows where the light couldn't reach, "that anyone here truly desires to sleep."
His gaze slid back to mine, heavy and assessing. The moment of shared understanding vanished as quickly as it had come. "Why did you falter today? Have your nightmares finally come to life?"
I sucked in air through my teeth, the sound sharp in the quiet hall.
He stepped closer, a cruel twist marring his lips. "Or perhaps you regretted throwing dirt in her eyes. Playing dirty."
I stepped forward, closing the gap until I could see the flecks of gold in his irises. I forced my chin up to meet his stare, my fingers curling into a tight fist at my side.
"Enough." It tore from my throat as a low growl.
He remained silent, his eyes locking with mine in a battle of wills. The tension between us spiked, the heat rising until the air felt thin, charged with anger. My breath hitched in my chest.
Emeric broke first. He took a step back, running a hand roughly through his hair, disrupting its perfect order.
He turned his face away, the torchlight casting half his features in shadow. "I don't like you, nor do I trust you."
I bit my lip to keep from snapping back. Evidently.
He let out a heavy sigh, the sound echoing in the vaulted ceiling. His voice dropped to a reluctant whisper. "But I admit... we need to be." He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Civil."
"I can agree to that." Better than his constant hate.
"Then stop wandering the halls at this hour."
My gaze fell past his shoulder. A small white blur sat motionless at the bottom of the landing. Maybe it isn't even real.
"I won't be much longer." My voice came out sharper than I intended.
He didn't answer. He turned on his heel without another word. I remained at the top of the landing, watching his broad frame descend into the darkness until the shadows swallowed him whole.
────◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ❨ ◯────
- Writer
