17. Caspian

I'm starting to remember.

All of the things he made me forget. All of the lies he shoved in their place. All of the rule infractions he had me commit for him.

The bastard is the king of sin, and I am his greatest devil, a monster of his creation. More than once did he send me into the mortal realm for him. More than once. A dozen times. A hundred. A thousand.

To fuck a mortal for him here and there. To lure one or two back. Mainly to kill.

He used me to kill.

Then he made me forget. Dampened my mind and sent me right back to his enclave, a castrated little gelding in his stable of puppets and whores. That's the real reason he deemed her off-limits.

Because he couldn't crawl inside my skin while I was inside her. He was regulated to his own mind then, poor, hateful, devious Cassius. His mind, where the monotonous din of his other spawn both pleases and bores him. He had to watch me enjoy her, knowing all the while that he could never have a taste.

For now, he's far, far away. Too far to hear his screams and commands. So far, the others are a muted little hum. Caspian… Caspian…

Without their drone, I can think again. I can feel again—in all of the ways he made me deaf and dumb to what wasn't him. I can feel her hand slip into mine. I can feel her tense with unease. Then I feel her shiver as I grip her back, making my hand a manacle that shackles her to me.

I have her in a way he never could. I'm not in her head, controlling her movements. I've made her stay with words alone. A promise. One I would be foolish and stupid to keep.

Take me to the mortal realm, oh Caspian. Take me there, parade me out among the mortals. Let me sniff their scents and dance under their sky. Let me laugh in a way you will never ever hear me laugh again.

Then take her back—that's the inevitable second step. Return her to the Citadel and watch her die. Be the one to bleed that little body dry.

Yes.

Yes.

But for now, I've done the impossible and stupid thing. I'm holding the fae's hand in the mortal realm.

Far from Cassius' shadow, I'm also realizing that I know the place like the back of my fucking hand. I've been here too many times to count. Too many times for the novelty to affect me like it does her.

Stupid little fae. I know this place well enough to tell her all she wants to know. There is no magic to be found here. Just mundane mortals and their dreary little lives. Sans Cassius, the other realm has…

More. More liveliness. More drama. More death. Everything.

This place is dull and quiet. So fucking quiet.

Then I remember. This is just a sliver of their world—the outskirts of some big city. A giant rat nest of beings. The portal never takes one into the heart of the mortal world. You have to walk down a dark, winding road shrouded by a forest.

Without her, I would run. It would take minutes to reach their little city made of brick buildings stacked like toys. With her…

She's too slow. Too weak. Too tired. Already, she's dragging on me, her weight slowing me down. Even when I take her bundle from her, she can't keep up. Trails behind me. I should shrug her off. Flee. Run.

I fulfilled my promise. I got her here.

And I've got Cassius on my tail. He'll hunt me down with great glee. The bastard.

I will never let him catch me.

She is a drag. An anchor around my neck. I shake her loose and walk away. Run away.

She can take her chances in this realm she craved to see so much.

No longer is she of any use to me.

Let her rot out here.

Let her die out here.

Yes, yes.I keep running until the sound of her heavy breathing is a distant memory. I run until her scent dissipates on the wind. I run and run.

It's only when I near the outskirts of that teeming, filthy mortal city that I remember; I have her bundle. What stupid items would a fae hold dear?

I already know one of them, even before I stop and rip open her bundle to see: a single dying, once-white rose. It rests on top of, of all things, a leather book, worn with age, reeking of must. I assume it"s one of her fae stories until I flip it open to a random page. Not words. Drawings are scrawled across these pages. Ugly. Too much color. Too bright.

I want to pitch it into the darkness. Rip it to shreds.

I start to.

As I loosen my grip on the leather object, a new word trips into my skull. Not a color. A feeling. It makes me think of her, my foolish little fae.

Remorse. Disgusting word. Stupid word.

Don't care.

I drop her bundle on the ground and walk away. She doesn't matter. Her ability to inspire words doesn't matter. The past doesn't matter.

Who I was before Cassius doesn't matter.

Nothing does.

Not anymore.

But then…

I catch her scent on the air, and it draws me back. Back to that stupid fucking book. Back to her bundle of worthless things—all she has to her fake, stolen name.

Why leave them here for her to find?

I take them, tucking them under my cloak.

A bargaining chip to come in handy for another time, should I see her again.

If I see her again.