21. Kayan

TWENTY-ONE

Kayan

T he elf's eyes are still open. She has a beautiful face. Small, and round, with big green eyes that stare up at the darkening sky, reflecting the gathering storm clouds.

Her neck is open like a mouth with no teeth. Red, gaping, dribbling dark red blood onto the cobblestones.

Alana is breathing hard and fast. Her chest rises and falls. Her hand shakes, but she does not drop the knife.

She looks up and sees me standing above Elodie's body. She meets my eyes, but does not speak to me. Garratt drops to his knees beside Elodie. His hands hover above her body, then he slams his hand onto her throat and tries to hold it closed. The blood seeps between his fingers, coating them red. He presses his other hand on top of that one, but the blood is still coming.

It is in Elodie's hair now, making it darker and thicker. It's on Garratt's shirt, too.

"Do something." He looks at Eldrion. "Do something."

Eldrion is stock-still, like a statue, completely unmoving. His wings don't even twitch. Through their tips, the sun glints and casts strange pale freckles of light on Elodie's porcelain face.

Alana still hasn't spoken. She flexes her fingers on the knife's handle.

Pria looks from Alana to Eldrion but says nothing. Then, slowly, she bends down and hooks her arm under Garratt's, easing him to his feet. "She's gone," she whispers.

Garratt tugs against her, then meets her eyes.

"She's dead, Garratt." Pria nods at him. "She's dead."

Garratt pinches the bridge of his nose. He's shaking. He stumbles backwards, staring at the dagger in Alana's hand.

"Alana, what have you done?" I whisper.

She tilts her head, blinking at me. For a fraction of a second, panic crosses her face. Panic chased by guilt. But then it is gone. She narrows her eyes at Garratt, then clicks her fingers. His mouth drops open, and a plume of purple smoke bursts from his lips. It spirals into the air and swirls round, and round, then dissipates.

Pria steadies him. Garratt frowns and shakes his head. He looks down at Elodie. "I... I don't understand."

"I took her life, and I took your pain." Alana stalks towards him. I step between them, but she passes through me as if she doesn't see me anymore. When she reaches Garratt, a ring of purple smoke coils around his throat and holds him still for her. Pria steps away. Alana raises her blade.

Eldrion says nothing.

"Alana..." I tug at her arm, but of course she feels nothing.

She hears me, I know she does, but she is choosing not to listen.

"I eased your pain for you, Garratt," she says. Her voice is like poison and ice.

"Yes," he mutters.

"But I can give it back again, tenfold. I can make it hurt so much you wish you were dead." She snaps her fingers. The smoke around his throat creeps up towards his mouth. He slams his lips closed and tries desperately to hold them shut, but the smoke prises them open and makes him gag, and choke, and cough as it multiplies on his tongue and surges down his throat.

He drops to his knees. Elodie's blood coats his hands. He skids on it, sits up, scrambles backwards. He's sobbing. Tears stream down his face. He clutches his chest and starts to wail.

"Does it hurt?" Alana asks.

"Please," he murmurs. "Take it away again. Please."

She smiles. It is a smile that sends chills through me. It can't be real. This can't be Alana. Something has happened to her. Finn. Or Eldrion. They've done something to her, they've taken her powers and turned them against her. They've addled her brain.

"Do you see now?" Maura's voice makes me turn around. She is standing behind me, arms hanging loose at her sides, despair on her face. "Do you see what she is?"

When I turn back, Alana has, once again, relieved Garratt of his grief. He stands up, nodding, thanking her.

She smiles and tells him he's welcome. As if she just did him a favour. "I think I made my point. Did I not?"

Garratt nods, even though I don't think he knows what her point was at all; I don't think he knows his own mind anymore.

"You help us, we'll help you." She clasps Garratt's hand tightly. "That's a fair exchange, isn't it?"

Pria is standing behind Garratt, eyes wide, looking absolutely terrified.

But Garratt simply nods again. "Yes," he says. "A fair exchange."

"And if you don't help us..." Alana flies up so she's hovering above the crowd. "You know what will happen." She looks at Eldrion. Without needing to exchange a single word, he understands what she wants him to do. He scoops Elodie into his arms and flies so he is treading air beside Alana. He holds out Elodie's body.

Alana pulls balls of purple light into her palms. And then, while Eldrion holds Elodie still, Alana sets fire to her dead body.

The purple flames flicker.

Eldrion keeps holding her as if he doesn't even feel them. And then he lets her fall.

She hits the ground, the way I did, and her broken body is consumed by Alana's fire.

While she is still smouldering, the stench of charred flesh filling the air, Alana returns to the ground and stalks back towards the castle. "Follow," she calls.

The elves do not look at one another.

They do as she commands.

I cannot stay here. I don't understand what just happened and I don't know how to stop seeing it when I close my eyes.

So, I flee to Rosalie.

I feel her before I see her. Her aura is so strong, so beautiful, so calming that I almost forget what I just saw.

I find her by the fountain. She is sitting on the rim.

She trails her finger in the water, a look of melancholy contentment settling on her beautiful face. Her blond hair is pinned up, fastened at the base of her neck. A few gently curled strands have escaped to frame her soft, round face.

But there is something on her neck... Finger marks.

And there are bruises on her chest, and another on her cheek.

Biting her lower lip, she closes her eyes.

A wave of sickening realisation washes over me. He did this to her. He hurt her. Part of me knew that was what he was capable of, but seeing the evidence of it on her perfect skin makes me feel as though I can't breathe.

Even though I am not, in fact, breathing at all, because I am not here.

I stare into her face.

Oh, how I wish I knew what she was thinking, so I knew whether I could show myself to her or not.

I want it more than anything.

Especially now. I want to take comfort in her gaze, and her words, and her. But how can I do that when there is a chance that seeing me will break her?

While I watch her, she hooks her legs up and lowers her feet into the water. She doesn't lift her dress, just lets it dangle into the fountain.

It becomes damp, water seeping up through the fibres of the skirt so it clings to her legs, her knees, her thighs.

I am transfixed by her.

I cannot stop watching.

She shivers a little, and as I sit down beside her, still keeping myself invisible, I breathe warmth into the water.

She sighs, and a smile parts her lips. She moves her feet gently through the water, then she looks up at the pale moon and the velvet sky.

"I miss you, Kayan," she breathes. "I miss you so much."

Hearing her name sends an exquisitely violent shudder down my spine. Fuck.

I stand up, standing in the water, then kneel in front of her. I want to kiss her so badly my entire body aches with need. But I can't; she wouldn't feel it.

She will feel this though . . .

With water clinging to my fingers, I reach out, slip my hand beneath her skirt, and trail one slow line up her calf towards the back of her knee.

As the warmth and the wetness moves over her skin, her eyes widen. Her toes curl a little, and she instinctively leans into my touch. I add more fingers, stroking her again from her ankle up to her knee.

I know she loves this spot. This is where I would kiss when I was trying to drive her wild. I'd flip her over, watch her wiggle her perfectly round ass at me. I'd nibble her ass cheeks, the backs of her thighs, her hips. Then I'd use my tongue to tease this exact spot.

As I make circles with my fingers, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back. Her hand goes to her chest, and she strokes her collarbones, her breath quickening.

Her dress is tied at the front, gathered over her breasts, accentuating them, teasing me with the thought of pulling the string that will expose them for me.

I remember their fullness, her pale nipples, and the way they seemed to grow darker when she was aroused.

With my other hand, I nudge her legs open.

She can't feel me, but she obeys me anyway, and then, as if she's picturing me in front of her, she hitches her dress up around her waist.

A growl rumbles deep in my throat. It's so vicious I'm surprised she doesn't hear it.

I lick my lips as she lowers her hand to her core and starts to gently play with herself. She is circling her clit, breathing hard, chest shaking, when I push two fingers inside her.

I can't feel her, but I can imagine how she feels, and that's almost enough.

She can't feel me either, and yet her eyes fly open and she gasps, tilting her pelvis as if she's trying to take my fingers deeper inside her.

With her spare hand, finally, she tugs on the string that holds her dress closed over her breasts. The tie loosens, and she eases them free.

I look up at her, drinking in the fullness of her body. Fuck, I want to taste her. It's not enough just to feel her.

Kneeling up, my fingers still inside her, I seal my lips over her nipple. It peaks between my lips and when I start to suck, Rosalie whimpers.

Can she feel me?

"Fuck," she whispers. "Oh, fuck."

She is using three fingers now, making harder faster circles between her legs. I keep sucking, licking, teasing as if this were real and we were together.

A moan parts her lips, louder this time, and she reaches back to free her hair.

It cascades over her shoulders.

Fuck, she's beautiful.

And she's going to come.

I would know that change in her breath anywhere, and it drives me wild with hunger for her.

Standing up, I free my cock and wrap my hand around it. I might not be able to feel her, but I can feel myself.

I tighten my grip, watching her eyes roll back and her deep, steady breathing turn to a quivering panting that drives me wild.

I remember what it was like to have her lips on me, her hand around me, her throat taking me deeper and deeper.

And when she mutters my name the second time, I can't hold back. A shuddering orgasm sweeps through my entire body. I shudder and shout her name, and behind me, the fountain splutters viciously.

Rosalie comes too.

Her cheeks flush, her back arches, she parts her legs wider and grips the side of the fountain with her free hand. As it subsides, leaving her trembling, she opens her eyes and looks down at her body.

She frowns.

I follow her gaze.

Across her chest, the faintest of blue marks, glowing.

As Rosalie leaves me to return to her chambers, I sit where she sat and stare into the water. I need to get her out of here, and I can't trust Alana to help me.

The Alana I knew is fading, and I don't know if I can return and watch her disappear in front of my eyes.

I know why it is happening; she has been betrayed one too many times, and mistreated one too many times. But that does not mean I condone it.

What she just did . . .

My mind returns to the image of the elf lying on the ground.

She killed someone.

For the first time, Alana hurt someone on purpose. Deliberately. With clear intent. She ended a life for what?

For the same reason Eldrion ended mine. A display of strength. An attempt to wield power over those around her.

And I cannot see how she can come back from that, now that the ice has started to form in her heart.

I am still thinking about Alana, my thoughts flitting between the way she dragged her blade across Elodie's throat, and the bruises on Rosalie's beautiful neck, when I hear movement in the distance.

I look up to see Rosalie's husband staggering towards me.

He pauses when he reaches the fountain and drops his pants, peeing into the water and sighing with relief.

He turns and looks up at Rosalie's window. Her lantern still burns. He smirks, adjusts himself in his pants, and sits down on the edge of the basin.

I stand in front of him.

He takes a cigar from his pocket and lights it. When he holds it between his teeth and starts to puff, he shakes his head and laughs. He looks down at his hand. There is a mark on top of it. He mutters, "Little bitch. She hasn't paid nearly enough of a price for what she did."

He stands, cigar still in his mouth, and looks again at Rosalie's room.

I am still in front of him but he is looking straight through me.

He moves forward.

And in that second, I know what I have to do.

I stretch out my arms and summon every ounce of magic in my veins. The fountain stops, the water moves in the wrong direction.

Rosalie's husband turns to look at it. "What the fuck?" He drops his cigar.

The water surges forward, curls around him, pushes and pulls, and drags him into the basin. Head first. It holds him down, his lower half kicking and struggling.

I do not move.

My magic keeps holding him. His breath shudders in his chest.

Still, I do not move.

Finally, he is still.

He's no longer breathing.

I stagger backwards.

He is no longer breathing. I killed him. Like Eldrion killed me, like Alana killed the elf.

Except, I did this for Rosalie. To protect her. The man I killed was evil.

I am not like them.

I am not like them.