Hidden

Chapter 7: Crossing theLine

I can tell I’m dreaming. The landscape is hazy and mist-covered. I can see the faint outlines of buildings and people with blurry faces passing me by. My hair blows in a sweet-scented wind and I walk along a street I do not know. I follow the path, knowing where it will lead. Soon, the people and buildings vanish. I am standing in a clearing gazing up at a dying willow tree. The bark peels before my eyes and ashen pieces of wood fall to my feet. The sky is ablaze with orange light. I can smell smoke in the air and I hear shouts as people run towards me. My heart races and I stumble back against the tree. Pieces of the trunk fall away from my hands and I feel myself sinking. I fight against the force that pulls me deeper into the tree, but the grip is too strong.

My torso is submerged, then my arms. I struggle and buck against the void, but I am powerless to stop it. Before my face is pulled through, I see banners breaking through the treeline. I recognize a few from the maps in my father’s study. These were the banners of other nations. I am swallowed into the depths of the tree and I float in total nothingness. I try to glimpse my surroundings, but nothing comes into view.

I start to panic and wonder if this is what death is like. If I am to fall into nothing and disappear. I can feel tears float up from my eyes and I sob softly wanting to go home. “Why am I here?” I ask into the void. “What am I supposed to do?” Of course, my questions are unanswered.

Suddenly, a flicker of light pierces my vision. I squint as the image slowly comes into view. It is a tiny, pink-colored flame. I float towards it and land on my knees before its warmth. It smells of honeysuckle and all the panic I had been feeling washes away. I reach forward and cuddle the tiny flame against my chest. It pulses like a heartbeat and I feel so much love for this ball of light that I do not know what to do with myself. I know it is something I would give my life to protect.

A low growl breaks into the silence and I look up to see a glowing pair of eyes slinking towards me in the darkness. The pink flame vanishes and all that remains are me and those eyes. I rise to my feet and stare into those blue and yellow balls of light. For the first time since I saw those eyes, I am unafraid. A wolf with crimson-tipped fur and taller than any in my clan steps into view and my wolf rumbles within me, ready to fight. I can feel my power building within me and the change is about to take me over.

I feel hands grip my shoulders and the scent of honeysuckle returns. I look over my shoulder into a pair of bright yellow eyes and the pink flame dancing behind us. I turn to Chan-Yung’s wolf empowered by Chan-Il and the flame behind me. He lunges and I see his sharp teeth aiming for my throat. I brace myself.

I gasp and sit straight up in bed. The duvet is wrapped around my waist and a wet towel falls onto my lap. The dress from dinner has been replaced with an off-white négligée and my hair has been loosened and stuffed into a bonnet. Soft candlelight flickers from the bedside table and a glass of water sits beside the lamp. My mouth feels dry, and I gulp the water down quickly before leaving the bed.

“How are you feeling?” A soft voice asks. I see Chan-Yung sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. His leg is pulled up to his chest, and he rests his chin on his folded hands. His eyes have a soft, concerned gaze, and somehow he seems like a different person.

“I…I feel fine. Just a bit dizzy. I might have a slight headache as well.” I answer. I move towards him and fold my arms over my chest. I recall him attacking me in this very room, and I was fully dressed then. Only the gods know what he will do with only a thin fabric covering my body.

He studies my posture and a sad look crosses his face. His eyes linger on the bandage on my neck and his lips press into a thin line, “Does it hurt?” He asks.

I touch the bandage taken aback by his sudden change in attitude. I am suspicious of why he is suddenly kind, but I tread lightly. “No. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He gets to his feet and walks towards me. I allow him to get close enough to touch before taking the smallest step back. He makes no move to close the distance. He reaches out and traces the edge of the bandage. I shudder at his touch, but it is not unpleasant. The gentle caress of his touch is warm and I feel a closeness to him that I did not think I could during our life together. He traces my collarbone, then my shoulder. His fingers travel until he reaches my hand and links our fingers together. He brings my hand to his lips and gently kisses my knuckles.

“Chan-Yung,” I say in a breathy voice. My heart thunders in my ears and I meet his gaze once again. I see the change before he twists my arm behind my back and presses his forearm into my throat. My air is cut off and I struggle against him. Confusion and fear fill my body as colorful dots flash across my eyes. My stomach twists and churns and nausea joins the other emotions raging through my body.

“Let me explain something to you, Issa. One thing I do not like to do is share. If you look at my brother the way you did earlier, I will rip your eyes out and eat them. You are MINE! Never forget it.”

Confusion fills my head and I try to turn to look at him. He tightens his grip and I can feel my shoulder protesting from the angle. “I don’t understand what I have done to warrant this maltreatment!” I gasp. I dig my fingers between his and my windpipe trying to get air. “Just tell me what I did!”

He growls into my ear, “Keep thinking about your behavior last night and it will come back to you.”

He throws me on the bed and everything I had eaten comes up. I lean over the bed and vomit splashes onto the carpet. Wave after wave of my dinner expels itself until the room reeks of sick. Hot tears stream down my face and I curse myself for thinking he had grown softer. For believing my life would not be so bad with this man. He will never fool me again.

When nothing is left in my stomach but hollow fear, I lean back on my knees and use the washcloth to wipe my mouth. The tears continue to roll, but the fear has turned into hatred and rage. Chan-Yung opens the door and instructs three maids to clean up the mess. Lyra enters moments later and ushers me from the room. I do not spare Chan-Yung a single glance as I walk down the hallway. I do hear him following behind us, but I refuse to turn around and look at him. The urge to rip his throat out is visceral, but I repress it. Killing the young lord of an ally nation would surely bring destruction to my family.

“I’m doing this for them,” I mutter to myself.

“Ma’am?” Lyra asks.

“Nothing,” I reply and slam the door to the bath before Chan-Yung can enter. If he is angered by that, too bad. I am all out of f***s to give.