Chapter Twenty-Two

Ellesandra

Darkness surrounds me.

My thoughts are sluggish as I peel my eyelids open and attempt to discern where I am.

No candlelight dances in the slight breeze that cools my sweat-slicked brow. When I turn my head, I realize there are no bright silver stars outside the window.

Panic claws at my chest when it strikes me that no sound seeps into the darkness. Even though I'm disoriented, sound should fill my ears. Instead, only deafening silence greets me.

I take a deep breath in an attempt to quell my growing panic. As I focus on my senses, I come to understand this is no ordinary darkness. A coppery, metallic tang clings to the roof of my mouth and coats my tongue. Magic.

A chill sweeps over me and gooseflesh erupts over my skin when something brushes my cheek. For a reason I can't discern, no fear courses through my veins with its touch. It slithers down my neck and across my cheek without the warmth behind a living thing's touch.

I curse under my breath when the thread inside my chest awakens. The darkness calls out, coaxing my magic to the surface. My soul responds with exuberance, eager to please the power akin to its own. I throw off the wool blanket covering me as the sensual caress of his magic brushes against the thread. My skin tingles.

I wince when I bear weight on my forearm and every muscle in my body screams in protest. A wave of dizziness rushes through me when I swing my legs over the side of the bed and push stray curls from my face. The moment my heels meet the cold stone, the shroud of inky darkness lifts. A sudden burst of morning light forces me to turn and shield my eyes.

Squinting now, it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to my surroundings. A simple wooden chair sits at the bedside, pulled so close that I nearly topple over it when I stand. A small, round wooden table sits in the far left corner. My stomach rumbles as the smell of fragrant meat wafts to my nose. An array of dishes including meat, potatoes, eggs, and fresh fruit sit untouched.

Uneasiness stretches through me when I glance down and find my leather boots caked with mud by the bedside. Memories rush forward in the form of bright light and emotions I've long wished to escape. War. Death. My capture. The foreboding hints of pine and the sea linger in the air and fill my next breath, telling of what has become of my life.

Save for a light pink sleeping gown that's draped across the wooden footboard of the bed, the room is void of all personal effects. I frown. It's not one of my gowns.

I blow out a long breath of annoyance when I make it a mere two steps before my legs begin to tremble and I must lean on the thick oak bedpost for support. As much as I despise the weakness in my body, it should come as no surprise to me. I've never used my magic in the capacity I did on the battlefield against Risian's forces. It's reasonable that channeling such power would wreak havoc upon my body.

What doesn't make sense is why my magic hasn't been replenished. It courses through my veins at a sluggish pace, but when I close my eyes and attempt to reach into the well of it, there's nothing. In many ways, it's hardly stronger than when I awoke after the battle three days ago.

I turn my head and narrow my gaze on the door when the mark below my thumb flares to life. The contentment that envelops me and settles into my aching soul tells me who lies just beyond. Chastising myself for allowing anything but anger to fill me, I inhale through my nose and smooth the skirts of my gown. I am a prisoner. I don't belong here.

I repeat the mantra in my head and will the muscles in my face to relax. Shoving away the lightness threatening to surface with the sharp tug echoing through my chest, I push off the bedpost and stand tall. I swallow back a whimper as I shift my weight and my ankle aches. The Risian King's gaze latches on to me as he lifts his head and steps through the door.

Confusion sweeps over me as surprise flickers over his features. How long have I been asleep? Rage and relief intertwine to create a gray storm within his eyes.

His gaze narrows upon me. "Get back into bed." Judging by his harsh tone, you'd think he takes personal offense to each breath I draw.

I drop my eyes to examine my fingernails. "No."

The dirt and blood that cake in my nails beds is an unsettling sight. I keep my face free of expression, even if my inside twists with the thought of how filthy I am.

A cool breeze floats in from the cracked window and lifts strands of hair on the back of my neck. My unbound hair.

Felix is watching me closely when I raise my eyes. His nostrils flare, but it's the hand that flexes at his side that draws my attention. The bond is mesmerized by the way the motion reveals the light purple hue of his veins and the muscles of his forearms.

My gaze flies back to his face when his voice cuts through the silence. "The bath or the bed."

I roll my eyes because, as usual, it's a command. I'm quite sure the King of Risian has never asked for anything in a polite manner in all his life.

"I've only just awoken. Is even a semblance of privacy too much—"

The words die on my tongue when he vanishes the distance between us. In one fell swoop, his forearm bands around the back of my calves.

"Put. Me. Down." I grind out when my feet are no longer on the ground and he begins to move.

He remains silent, though his hold on me is firm and gentle in the same breath. I'm certain I've never despised anyone more.

A muscle hat looks to be carved from the finest marble feathers in his jaw. The bond chirps when he looks down and our gazes collide. Anger bleeds into his irises. Good. I'm more than capable of walking on my own.

I quickly realize this isn't the Risian King's home when he nudges a door open on the farthest side of the room to reveal what looks to be a bathing chamber. The walls and floors are made of rough, brown stone. Dirt and the stars know what else covers the floor, telling of the company that's kept here.

Steam rises from the small clawfoot tub that sits to the left. Albeit smaller, it's similar to my own in the Amber Palace. Lavender wafts to my nose to act as a reminder of the luxurious baths I took regularly.

To the right lies a latrine and basin. I wrinkle my nose at the mirror that hangs above the basin. A thick layer of dust covers the glass. I'm certain it hasn't been properly cleaned in at least a decade.

I bite down on my tongue to prevent a wince from escaping my throat as Felix sets my feet on the ground. Though my legs scream in protest, they blessedly remain firm. Due to the steam hanging in the air, sweat beads my brow, and the tattered gown clings to my skin.

Felix's features soften as he recognizes my discomfort. "Turn around."

I frown, but am left with little choice but to appease him. There are no straps and my arms are much too sore to reach the buttons that are clasped atop the back of my neck. Gooseflesh erupts over my body when he sweeps my curls over my shoulder. I suppress a shiver when he unfastens the buttons and the heat of his breath skates across my exposed skin.

The trunk that houses the memories of old splinters, shadows of recollection stretching over me when he presses his lips to the top of my spine in a featherlight kiss. Lips that once healed a battered and bruised heart, hands that traced the shape of me and marked me as their own.

With a dry swallow working down my throat, I step forward the moment the gown pools around my waist. The King of Risian is no longer the boy I loved. Of this I'm sure. The tragedy that has befallen me at his hand, long before this day, is a testament to that fact.

The peaks of my breasts pebble when his fingers run along the back of my neck in the gentlest touch. "Sianna will come," he murmurs before stepping away.

Though a retort rests upon my tongue, we both know the words would be useless.

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I'm unsure if I've ever appreciated a bath more when warmth seeps into my bones. The past is washed away by the slow circles Sianna massages into my scalp. Tipping my head back, I sigh. While the process has always been relaxing, I never realized how luxurious having your hair washed is until now.

It's likely Sianna has never been tasked with such a duty, but, seeing that Nuelle likely met a fate similar to those on my council, the Risian princess helps to ensure I'm clean. Anger simmers in my blood, further raising my body's temperature.

Despite being a lady's maid, Nuelle has been like a mother to me since I was child. While I once believed I didn't care for her, the pang of anguish that lances through my chest tells me I hold some semblance of affection for her. I pray to the stars she met death's hand gently.

It's fitting, I suppose. The looming shadows of death follow any who cross paths with the mirror of my soul. It'll be a miracle of those above if I manage to escape the same fate.

"What is it?" Sianna questions gently.

While I know that none of this is Sianna's doing, the rage that boils within me despises the pity behind her tone.

The words cling to the roof of my mouth and taste of ash as they roll off my tongue. "I was just thinking of Nuelle."

"Oh," she breathes. She shifts behind me. "I'm sorry, Ella, for—" She pauses for a long moment. "Well, for everything."

The poisonous whispers that snake through my mind beg the question of what would have become of Minalis if my faith hadn't been so misguided. While Sianna has become someone I consider a friend these last five centuries, what is friendship in the face of family? When compared to her own kingdom and people?

"There was nothing you could have done," I finally manage to say.

Sianna pauses her ministrations.

"I didn't know," she says quietly, the conviction of her words telling, "any of this would come to pass."

I know it's unfair, but I'm unable to quell my rising irritation. "But it has, hasn't it?" I twist around to face her. "And in the end, it's not your future that has been stolen, nor your kingdom that's been brought to its knees by a madman. Whether you knew or not is of little consequence. I must pay the price of your naivety."

Her face falls and unshed tears gleam in the candlelight. My anger gives little care. Harsh as my words may be, they're the bitter truth. While I can't place absolute fault for all that's happened at Sianna's feet, I was a fool to task her with such responsibility. She will forever be shackled to the duties of a princess, a far cry from the burdens that come with the title of Queen.

We stare at one another for a moment before I sigh and turn. Sianna clears her throat and resumes her ministrations. "I've brought some of your gowns along, your favorites in burgundy and gold, of course. Oh! And there are fine seamstresses in Risian. I'll summon them as soon as we reach the capital."

"Hmm," I murmur.

I have no intentions to remain a prisoner, but I appreciate her efforts. It's a nice portrait she paints. One that calls for my greatest concerns to be new gowns and pretty things. The unspoken truth of the matter hangs thick between us as she picks up the empty pitcher beside the tub. The world outside of this bath ceases to exist when she fills the pitchers and pours clean water over my head, the rush of warmth relaxing my muscles further.

I sigh and close my eyes. It's fleeting, this peace. For I know that if the stars are gracious and I'm able to escape from the mirror of my soul's clutches, I'll be hunted.

I lift my hand and water drips from my fingertips as I study the blemish beneath my thumb. He will be relentless in his hunt for me.

I scowl at the blemish, silently willing it to disappear somehow. It will act as all but a beacon to the King of Risian, the burn that accompanies its call telling of our proximity to one another. For five hundred years, I've scanned every text and read every journal in hopes to find a way to be rid of the stars-damned thing. I've yet to find anything of use.

My powers must return. The balance of my fate rests upon them, even if they're untested against Felix's own magic. No matter if it brings me to the brink of death, I must try to escape when they return. Each moment I remain in his grasp, the likelier it is that I'll one day look over my shoulder and find that I've lost the few threads of my soul that remain.

It's fitting, I suppose. The looming shadows of death follow any who cross paths with the mirror of my soul. It'll be a miracle of those above if I manage to escape the same fate.

"What is it?" Sianna questions gently.

While I know that none of this is Sianna's doing, the rage that boils within me despises the pity behind her tone.

The words cling to the roof of my mouth and taste of ash as they roll off my tongue. "I was just thinking of Nuelle."

"Oh," she breathes. She shifts behind me. "I'm sorry, Ella, for—" She pauses for a long moment. "Well, for everything."

The poisonous whispers that snake through my mind beg the question of what would have become of Minalis if my faith hadn't been so misguided. While Sianna has become someone I consider a friend these last five centuries, what is friendship in the face of family? When compared to her own kingdom and people?

"There was nothing you could have done," I finally manage to say.

Sianna pauses her ministrations.

"I didn't know," she says quietly, the conviction of her words telling, "any of this would come to pass."

I know it's unfair, but I'm unable to quell my rising irritation. "But it has, hasn't it?" I twist around to face her. "And in the end, it's not your future that has been stolen, nor your kingdom that's been brought to its knees by a madman. Whether you knew or not is of little consequence. I must pay the price of your naivety."

Her face falls and unshed tears gleam in the candlelight. My anger gives little care. Harsh as my words may be, they're the bitter truth. While I can't place absolute fault for all that's happened at Sianna's feet, I was a fool to task her with such responsibility. She will forever be shackled to the duties of a princess, a far cry from the burdens that come with the title of Queen.

We stare at one another for a moment before I sigh and turn. Sianna clears her throat and resumes her ministrations. "I've brought some of your gowns along, your favorites in burgundy and gold, of course. Oh! And there are fine seamstresses in Risian. I'll summon them as soon as we reach the capital."

"Hmm," I murmur.

I have no intentions to remain a prisoner, but I appreciate her efforts. It's a nice portrait she paints. One that calls for my greatest concerns to be new gowns and pretty things. The unspoken truth of the matter hangs thick between us as she picks up the empty pitcher beside the tub. The world outside of this bath ceases to exist when she fills the pitchers and pours clean water over my head, the rush of warmth relaxing my muscles further.

I sigh and close my eyes. It's fleeting, this peace. For I know that if the stars are gracious and I'm able to escape from the mirror of my soul's clutches, I'll be hunted.

I lift my hand and water drips from my fingertips as I study the blemish beneath my thumb. He will be relentless in his hunt for me.

I scowl at the blemish, silently willing it to disappear somehow. It will act as all but a beacon to the King of Risian, the burn that accompanies its call telling of our proximity to one another. For five hundred years, I've scanned every text and read every journal in hopes to find a way to be rid of the stars-damned thing. I've yet to find anything of use.

My powers must return. The balance of my fate rests upon them, even if they're untested against Felix's own magic. No matter if it brings me to the brink of death, I must try to escape when they return. Each moment I remain in his grasp, the likelier it is that I'll one day look over my shoulder and find that I've lost the few threads of my soul that remain.

Ellesandra,

I hope this finds you well. Although, I suppose you're still in a period of mourning, so I should say my condolences, rather. While I make no apology for ending the life of your miserable, arrogant husband, I regret that the action may have caused you pain.

We both know that you didn't care for him though. Not in the depths of your soul. As much as you hate to admit it, there's only room in your heart for one. No amount of time or distance will change that fact, Lumina.

So marry me. Now that you're free from the bindings of marriage, come take the crown that's awaited you for three hundred years. Become Queen of Minalis and Risian.

I'll give you the realm, if you let me. I eagerly await your response.