8. Chapter 8- Nyx

Itrace the large beams that crisscross the ceiling for the hundredth time. Nothing seems to help me close my eyes so I can finally get some sleep. Even moving off of the overly soft bed to the floor hasn't helped. My mind just won't shut off.

A soft creaking sound, barely audible over the beating of my heart, comes from outside the window. I slowly roll to my feet and strain my ears to pinpoint the source. It doesn't change or get louder; it constantly slithers and groans.

I crouch low and carefully make my way to the window. Still, the sound stays the same. A soft cadence that barely competes with the sound of the insects singing their nightly tune. I try to make out the disturbance through the shadows of the trees and buildings. The moons, being nothing but slips of pink and white in the sky, do nothing to help.

Standing as still as I can, I watch and wait for the disturbance to become known. It always does when you are patient enough. I'm rewarded with movement down on the ground toward the right. The moons provide just enough light for me to make out thick vines slithering across the ground toward the forest.

"They are…" I track the movement. My eyes finally adjust to the shadows, and I try to figure out where they are coming from. How are they moving on their own? Maybe they are not. Maybe someone…

I squint to see where the end of the trail is. There are not many places they could come from. Parts of the castle surround the small clearing on all sides except for the dense forest stretching out before me toward the city.

Something isn't right.

Heading for the door as fast as possible, I forget I am a fucking prisoner here. Despite knowing the asshole keeping me here, I still jiggle the handle, and to my surprise, it is unlocked. The idiot never came up here to lock it.

Not even bothering to hide my escape, I run down the long, winding staircase until I reach another dark wooden door. There are no windows or any other way of escape. Drawing a deep breath, I grab the handle and send up a silent prayer. I never thought it would work, but this door is also unlocked, and no one is behind it. The new room is dark and smells like ink, soot, and old books, but there are no windows to light the way.

I stumble around using only my hands…and shins, occasionally, to find my way around obstacles. Eventually, I will stumble across a door or something, right? Unless my luck has run dry, and this is where I am captured and then thrown into the dungeon.

If I didn't have a mission, I would almost prefer that than staying within reach of the Prince.

The books under my hand fall further into the back of the bookshelf, and a soft click fills the silence. I try to catch myself as the bookshelf moves away from me, but without being able to see anything, I fall to my hands and knees on the stone floor. Cold, damp air slowly blows around me, lifting my hair and making me shiver.

I don't think this is the door I was meant to find. I wipe my hands on my nightdress as I get to my feet. The long, narrow hallway is lit by the moonslight seeping in from a few small windows at the top of the walls. The cold breeze continues to blow across my bare feet, but the air above is warmer and smells stale.

I look back into the room to see if the small amount of light might reveal another door, but I already know that if there is one, I won't be taking it. This way pulls at something deep inside of me, demanding my attention.

Each step is cold and wet, and the air gets thicker the further I go, but there are no doors and no way to go other than forward. A warm light breaks through the dim horizon, sparking hope that I may be coming to an end—to the answers that my soul is demanding I find.

But it isn't.

It is another narrow hallway that curves to the right and left. To the left, the hallway is dark, out of reach of the lantern that hangs at the junction. The right is lit by the same windows as the path I previously walked down.

I turn toward the left, but something feels off, foreboding. I quickly change direction to the brighter path and immediately feel better. However, when I step forward, my stomach knots and my blood runs cold. So, I take the dark path. The foreboding is still there, but my stomach feels fine.

It can't be…there haven't been any Magik users since…since my father. He was the last man recorded in our kingdom to have been born with it. Recognizing this feeling for what it is makes this decision easy. The caster wanted to make sure that if someone stumbled upon this crossroads, they would be led as far away as possible.

I rip the side seam of my nightdress and tie it higher up. This is going to get interesting, and I need to be prepared for the worst. Magik is unpredictable, but the caster is usually more so. With my right hand on the wall, I grit my teeth and power on.

It doesn't take long for the foreboding to intensify. Sweat breaks across my brow and trickles down my spine. But I refuse to take my hand off the wall. I am familiar with the darkness, so that doesn't frighten me. What has me on edge is the thought of losing my way to this spell. It could have me turning in circles until someone either finds me with barely a mind left or I waste away into dust down here.

Each step grows more and more difficult as the floor becomes sticky and tips downward. My feet peeling away from the floor seems overly loud, but soon, my grunts accompany it. Raw pain radiates up my legs with each pull. Every step is like my skin is being left behind in the unknown substance, trying to halt my progress.

Still, I don't take my hand from the wall. I power through, ignoring the pain, telling myself that I have been through worse. I push down my walls and pull forth the memories of HIS fangs piercing my skin until they almost hit bone. I grit through, remembering the feel of my blood burning through my veins as HE fed from me. HE would drink so deeply that I was left listening to my straining heart work double time to pump fluid that was barely there.

It was like that for hours. Maybe even days. It was so dark all the time that I couldn't even begin to guess how long he made me wait for food or water. And then, when I began feeling better, he would do it all again. Tearing through my flesh like it was paper that inconvenienced him.

I hang my head with unshed tears. How could I have let it get that bad? Why did I not fight back harder? I was obviously capable of it; I got away in the end. My hand trembles against the wall. Why was it so crucial for me to keep it there? There was a reason…

Something like blue smoke floats on the edge of my vision and a burning pain starts low in the pit of my stomach. It slowly makes its way up and then forces its way out of my mouth. Any food I had in my stomach lands on the cold floor. It splatters against my ankles and feet in the pitch black. The burning doesn't go away. It builds and demands to be released. My stomach continues to expel all liquids and solids as I keep staggering through the darkness toward my unknown goal.

I try to keep my hand against the wall as I walk, not really remembering why it's so important, but knowing it is. Ignoring the film of sickness under my feet is almost impossible, but it helps keep the foreboding feelings at bay. The blue smoke comes and goes, taunting me, making me question if I really saw it at all.

I am so close to turning around and giving up. There is probably nothing down here anyway. I don't know why I am wasting time worrying about something like this. I should have escaped. Now, I am probably stuck and won't have another chance.

No! I will get away! I will fight and…the VINES! That is why I am here.

The nausea eases with the new determination coursing through me. I have been through worse! I tell myself repeatedly until, FINALLY, my hand brushes against a solid wood surface. I trail my fingers down the grain until they meet the cool metal of the handle. It doesn't take a lot of effort to turn it, but I have to use my body weight to heave the door open.

It drags against something thick and viscous on the floor. But it is too dark to see what it is. The substance sucks at my feet, pulling them into it as I walk deeper into the room. The sucking sound is loud in the silence, but the tether is still pulling me forward despite my deep desire to run away.

A small, warm light appears ahead, and all my worries about the mystery liquid trying to stop me fade away. Vines, both big and small, fill the room in an entangled mass. They writhe and slither around a center point I can't make out amongst the thorns. Bright red liquid drips and flows amongst the leaves, falling to the floor in thick rivulets. Adding to…I suck in a deep breath and the metallic scent hits me at the same time the realization does. It's all blood. I am standing in a room flooded with old blood.

I carefully continue forward; my nerves settled now that I know what is coating my feet. This is the source of the vines; it has to be! Which means there is a way to stop it. I can stop it. I just need to see…

"What are you doing here?" A deep growl fills the room.

I quickly look over my shoulder and find a furious Felix dressed in nothing but his white night-shorts. His large shoulders fill the doorway and the small amount of light reflects off his glasses.

I'm so distracted by the Keryth that I don't respond before a vine lashes out. I raise my arms to cover my face, and it slices through my forearm. I back up a few steps to get out of the vines' reach.

"I don't know…" I swallow my explanation and straighten my spine. "It doesn't matter!"

"Get out!" he roars.

I stand my ground, but notice his chest heaving with each breath and decide better than to anger him more. But before I can get past him, his large hand wraps around my arm and drags me from the room. He slams the door shut and pulls me down the hallways toward the tower. Not a word is spoken between us until he locks his bedroom door.

"What do you think you were doing?" His voice is as cold as the floors beneath my wet feet.

"I was looking around."

"That place is hard to find. Are you trying to tell me you just stumbled across it?"

"That is exactly what I am saying," I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You're bleeding." His eyes darken and latch onto my arm.

I look down at my body and blood drips from my arm where the vine attacked me. Felix sniffs loudly and urges me to run to the bathingroom. He quickly wraps my arm in a towel, his jaw clenched and body rigid. I'm fucking locked in a room with a Keryth while dripping blood everywhere! It has probably ignited his hunger. I am in deep shit because I am not strong enough to fight him off. My blood is not something I give away willingly, so it will end up being a fight to my death if he wants it.

"Don't come near me," I warn as he follows me into the smaller space.

"Let me help you," he says, holding out his hands to me as if I were a wounded animal. "I just want to clean and dress the wound."

"I'm fine…" I let my attention slip for a second, and he takes advantage by grabbing my injured arm.

"Hold still, this is going to hurt."

"Ouch!" I try to pull away from him, but he pulls me back with annoying ease.

"Hold still!"

"You're hurting me!" I roar.

"It wouldn't hurt if you'd keep still," he says, pulling me closer.

"It wouldn't hurt if you hadn't distracted me when I was face to face with a moving mass of vines!"

"I wouldn't have distracted you if you weren't there in the first place!" he throws back in my face. He isn't wrong, so I clench my jaw and look away from his inspection of my arm. "Come with me to the sink." I follow him and ignore the empathy in his eyes. Fuck feelings!

"What was that down there?" I ask carefully. Even though I have seen it with my own eyes, I know he won't be willing to share. I won't let it go until he is so frustrated that he feels he has no other choice but to tell me.

"I don't know."

Lies

"It's the source of the vines, isn't it? Where did it come from? How can we stop it? Do you want it stopped?"

He removes the towel and guides my forearm under the warm water, running his hands over it until it's clean.

"It isn't deep. You don't need stitches. Now, get in the bath," he commands without a second look and leaves the bathingroom, locking the door behind him. I quickly strip and don't argue with his highhandedness because I am disgusting and need a bath.

I don't even bother filling the tub; I watch as the water runs the dark red-brown gelatinous substance down the drain. I quickly rub soap all over myself and wash it off.

Fuck! I have nothing to wear. The only thing I have is another large fluffy towel. It does the job of covering me up, but it's not clothes.

I try to open the door, but it's still locked. Asshole!I knock and wait to see what happens. Luckily, the prince doesn't make me wait long before he throws the door open with a stoic expression and an oversized white shirt in his hands.

"Turn your back," I huff, swiping the shirt from his hands. It swallows me whole. The hem hangs to my knees, and the sleeves dangle past my hands. "This is too big," I complain.

Felix turns toward me, his dimples appearing and disappearing as he looks me up and down.

"Let me help you." He grabs the sleeves and rolls them up slowly. Then he pulls a small tub of ointment and a linen bandage out of his pockets. With gentle ease, he covers the scratch with the awful-smelling poultice and wraps my forearm tightly. "After this, you will get into my bed." My eyes shoot to his, and I try to pull away, but he holds firm and rolls up the other sleeve.

"I will not sleep with you!"

"You will," he chuckles. "But I only mean to sleep. I apparently can't trust you to stay in your room."

"You can't trust me with anything," I remind him.

"True. But this way, I can keep an eye on you." He finishes with my sleeve and points toward the bed. "Get under the covers, Little Thief. I have meetings starting at dawn."

"The vines?"

"Not now. Bed," he commands.

I cross my arms and face him. "No."

"Again?" he smirks, and his eyes light up at the challenge.

"You heard me. NO!"

"You might want to think carefully about challenging me, Little Thief. I always win in the end." He stalks toward me, but I hold my ground. I will not be intimidated by him!

"Maybe in the past. But I mean it this time."

"And if I promise to tie you to the bed if you don't get into it willingly?"

He wouldn't…would he? Shit, maybe he would. FUCK!

"Fuck you!"

"I wish you would."

I ignore his last comment, crawl to the top of the bed, and gather all the pillows. I don't care that he is watching me with a huge smile. I couldn't care less if I look ridiculous. Ignoring him and his infuriating dimples, I build a wall down the middle of the bed with the pillows. I climb under the silky sheets and heavy comforter with my back to him.

And just when I get comfortable, the asshole grabs the pillows I just worked so hard to stack and throws them on the floor. He climbs under the blankets with me. His large hand grabs my hip and forcibly pulls me into his body. My ass fits perfectly against his crotch, and my head rests right underneath his chin. Unfortunately, my nightmare doesn't end as he wraps his heavy arm around me and holds me in place against him.

"Rest easy. We are just sleeping," he sighs, happily.

I call him every name I know and curse him every way I know how until my eyes get heavy and my mind finally quiets. My breaths even out, and I realize that being held like this is not terrible. It feels…nice. Even my heart seems to be okay with this situation. It doesn't pound viciously in my chest or ache from being so close to someone else.

But it has to all be a lie. He is a Keryth, my enemy. I should not feel comfortable. And yet my eyes close, and I drift into a dreamless sleep.