13. Breya

THIRTEEN

brEYA

T he most impactful moment that showcased nature's brilliance happened to Breya during a celestial moment when the moon passed in front of the son. She was only ten years old. Her village was covered in darkness during mid-afternoon class, and it was certainly a little spooky.

She had been informed by her father about its occurrence a few days before. She was the only student who found it fascinating.

Since then, Breya garnered a close relationship with the earth and nature in general. It all blossomed into a synthesis of her witching prowess as she grew up, cultivating her charms and incantations in unison with the connection she forged with the planet. It was all a part of her mantra when it came to her healing practice, thinking of earth as one big wound, and the humans and supernaturals that walked upon it as secondary lesions.

But not in a way that was cynical. Nature, to Breya, was always in a process of healing. As were the people and creatures who belonged there and lived in harmony with it.

Breya wasn't thinking of the even though while on the dance floor, though. She had the king's hands studying her body thoroughly, riling up her desire. She was the one who was the witch, capable of miraculous spells and runes, but Thorne was ineffably possessing her.

His lips trailed along her shoulder torturously slow. It rushed fire along her skin, her clutch along his waist tightening with impatience. Behind her closed eyes, the light dimmed, his mouth finally parting to lace her with a light prick of his teeth…

Breya's eyes darted open. All of her carnal longings were dashed like an aggressive shove as her body went rigid, a billowing, insidious crow-black smoke blooming in the gloom of the high ceiling.

She felt a lash of arctic cold run up her spine while her skin dampened and had gone ashen.

Something awful was about to happen.

"Breya?"

The first tremor hit with an elephantine bluntness. At first, it resounded like something heavy was crashing on the roof, like a detached limb from a tree. But then the crash expanded into fierce shaking as if the ground beneath their feet was a rope convulsing in the grips of a playful child. Guests shrieked and fled for the hallways and leaped under tables while Thorne jerked her into him, using his body to shield any falling debris.

He raced with her beneath him, crouching, searching for a table to duck under. He tucked her beneath one, but the loud strike had commenced as did the shaking.

Breya grabbed hold of his wrist before he was able to dart away.

"Wait," she implored. "There will be aftershocks. But then it is over."

He paused, staring down at her gravely. There were panicked murmurs echoing throughout the grand hall, drinks and silverware scattered as if a bomb had gone off. The aftershocks came, vibrating the ground beneath them, but were nowhere near as intrusive as the monstrous thunderclap that had interrupted their celebration so crudely.

The king's silvery eyes looked around, an eerie silence engulfing the big room. A crippling howl sliced the quiet, coming from just outside the castle.

"Stay here," he ordered.

"I will do no such thing."

Breya felt tipsy on her feet following the king through the ballroom, down the hallways, and out into the cool night. Guests, servants, and housekeepers were dispersed everywhere, as was flipped over furniture, ornaments, and even a single chandelier that had likely plummeted during the aftershock.

The witch could feel fear that strangled every person she passed. She had to let it go and compartmentalize or she would surely drown in the waves of her own empathy.

It was a necessary practice that Breya was adept at.

The breeze kissed her skin as they moved beyond the castle grounds, past the front gate, and into the desert plains. People were crowding around something lit only by a small sprinkling of stars and dusty light thrown over the landscape.

Thorne had stopped, his hand rising to run apprehensively through his hair.

"What is it?"

Breya rushed to him and gasped at the sight of a giant fissure that had split the earth in two. From her perspective, it was cavernous darkness swallowing any and all light that trembled around it.

"There are people down there!" a man called out.

Thorne jumped into action, springing out of his dress clothes speedily and shifting into his lion form. Breya had very little time to admire his imposing and handsome form before she, too, was required to take heed of the situation.

He jumped into the pit, disappearing before her eyes. It made her heart sink for a terrible, harrowing moment. He then materialized out of the dark, a man draped over his back.

Enforcers poured out of the castle and began to aid their king. Breya started reassuring the people standing along the long and chasmic groove, even ordering some of the non-injured housekeepers and servants to bring the afflicted water and blankets. The fissure seemed to roll on for miles, vanishing into the hollow, glossy dark.

The lions managed to rescue every person who had fallen into the chasm. Medical personnel rushed onto the scene and carried off the more mortally hurt, but thankfully, there weren't many. The shifters that remained continued to stare into the depressed ground with a kind of disengaged horror.

Breya was comforting a woman and her child, having kicked off her stiletto heels and padded around the harsh ground barefoot, when Thorne and his men shifted back into their human forms. Breya found herself admiring the beauty in the effortless change along with Thorne's bravery.

His servants rushed to dress them with spare clothes they had gathered. Even through the hazards, Breya couldn't stop herself from wishing Thorne had remained naked.

"We have to close this area off," she overheard the king say. "It's not safe. Or fill it with dirt. Whatever you do, make it stable. This can't stay like this."

Breya excused herself from what had turned into the recovery tent and approached the king, who was surrounded by men who could be his identical twins. One in particular had hair just as long as his, but his was a shiny black.

"Thorne, can I speak with you?"

She thought for a second that he might brush her off, but he didn't. She was humming from the adrenaline of the earthquake and maybe even a bit turned on by his bravery. The way he just threw himself into that crevasse.

"I have an idea," she said, rubbing her palms together. "Filling in the ground with dirt will take too long. Let me do my work."

Thorne was flummoxed, staring off into the seemingly infinite black.

"What do you mean? I thought you healed humans?"

Instead of arguing with him, Breya asked him to step aside and tell everyone else to do the same.

The blue of his eyes twinkled as he gave the order. His voice was thick and powerful. Breya gave him a pleased nod, then walked past him, settling both feet at the edge of the gaping hole.

Breya breathed in deeply. Her bare toes sunk into the cold clay of the surface. She summoned all of her vitality to begin knitting the dangerous opening together. It grumbled under her feet as if fatigued, and then slowly, the breach closed. It rumbled, not nearly as blaring as the initial quake, and finally ceased as Breya's abilities stitched the earth back to a singular stretch of land.

Another uncanny silence took over the atmosphere. Some people clapped, and some people cheered. Others remained mute and disapproving.

Breya's hands dropped to her side. She started to feel dizzy, her appendages as heavy as iron pipes. The edges of her fingertips burned like she had put out a candle with every digit. But she was used to that feeling.

She smiled to herself, full of pride, then nearly stumbled to the ground.

Thankfully, Thorne was there to catch her.

"My God, Breya. I didn't know you could do that."

The witch was loopy, the stars overhead starting to dim. Her thoughts were muddled, but one kept breaking through. She spoke, unable to shroud her smile.

"Did I do well? Do they all think I'd make a good queen now?"

The king smiled down at her, but it was somber. She knew the answer without needing to hear his reply.

"Let's get you to bed, Breya. I think all of that magic drained you. Come on. I will take you."

She wanted to tell his people that she was just as capable of healing the earth as she was at healing their bones. But nothing, not even a witch of her caliber, could heal a haunted and begrudging heart.

"You're right. I need to rest."

Thorne scooped her into his arms like she was a calf. She felt good in his arms as she laid her head against his chest, letting her eyes flutter closed, lulled by his strength and his doting touch.

She was taken from the cold stares back into the fever of her growing affection for the King of the Savanna. She decided in her dazed state that whatever happened that night was kismet.