10. Verena

CHAPTER 10

VERENA

E iran's hands had been gentle when he wrapped my injured ankle with strips of fabric from his own shirt. The soft material was warm against my skin, and I had seen the concern in his eyes as he carefully tucked my foot back into my boot, making sure that it wasn't too tight.

It was the same look he had given me when I had clumsily slid down the embankment and twisted my ankle in the first place.

Despite my attempts to hide it, Eiran had been able to sense my discomfort as I gingerly put weight on it. With a deep frown, he had begged me to rest, but we couldn't afford to.

The sharp pain that shot through my calf with each step was already causing our pace to be much slower than we could allow.

I sprawled out on my back, the blades of rough grass prickling my exposed skin as I gazed up at the endless expanse of stars above.

The sheer vastness of the open sky above me made me feel insignificant and completely exposed. My thoughts spiraled into a frenzy as panic consumed me—if we were discovered now, I would have no chance of escape or self-defense.

My only skill had always been running, but here, trapped under the open sky, even that would be impossible.

I struggled to banish thoughts of my father's wrath if his men were to catch me. But as I gazed up at the same stars that adorned the sky above the palace, a shiver ran down my spine.

The stars glimmered like gemstones in the inky darkness, illuminating the forest below with an otherworldly glow.

The cool night air caressed my skin, carrying secrets that only added to my unease. Every rustle of leaves made me jump and scan the shadows for any sign of danger.

A torrent of consuming fear flooded my mind, threatening to drown out any sense of reason or hope. Thoughts of my father plagued me. I had feared he wanted me dead, but now with the queen and his new heir gone, I feared much worse.

I was now the sole remaining heir to his throne, a powerless daughter who he had mercilessly tortured in search of any trace of magic within me. And now that I had discovered my power, I dreaded what he would do when he found out.

But as I strained to feel the hum of magic within me, I found nothing. It was as if my power had abandoned me the moment I left the hidden city's walls.

The unknown of how he would use me was the true terror, lurking in the shadows and gnawing at my mind. My heart raced and my body trembled at the mere thought of being a pawn in his twisted game. The dark possibilities loomed over me like a suffocating shroud, threatening to consume me whole.

My father ruled with an iron fist, forcing his people, our people, to kneel before him and stretch their trembling hands out over a deep well and relinquish a portion of their own magic to him each year.

It was a twisted ritual, one that left them weakened and vulnerable, while he only grew stronger and more formidable.

They were powerless against his tyrannical rule, constantly living in fear of his wrath. The tithe he collected served as a reserve, a safety net that he continued to hoard, and the rise of the rebellion only made his desire for more power insatiable.

His grip on power was unrelenting, making him an unstoppable force to be reckoned with.

I had never seen the reserve of power, never attending the tithe except to watch from my bedroom window, but I knew that it lay somewhere beneath the castle, hidden deep within the tunnels that even my father's enemies couldn't discover.

He had masterfully crafted his rule into a complex labyrinth, confounding any who dared try to unravel its secrets. The very thought of the intricate pathways and secret chambers sent shivers down my spine, for I knew that within them lay my father's true strength and cunning. It was a maze that only he could navigate, a fortress that no one could breach.

The tunnels were a place I had only ventured into a handful of times. The first time was with my mother. I hadn't understood it then, the panic in her voice and the trembling in her hands as she led me down the dimly lit halls until we reached a door that led outside of the palace. I had been so young then, too young, but I hadn't let myself forget that path.

The flames of terror stoked by her panic seared the memory into my mind, leaving an indelible mark.

The other times, I had been with my father and his men. I could still hear the echoes of screams and cries ringing through the dark, damp walls. My father believed he was training me, grooming me to be a queen with no mercy or empathy. A queen who learned to take what she needed from her people by any means necessary.

But all he did was teach me how to survive in a world of darkness and cruelty.

Reluctantly, I gave in to the relentless pull of longing I always tried to avoid. My heart ached for my mother, her warm embrace and soothing words that were always able to ease any pain.

I wished that she were still here.

I yearned for the days when I believed that my father loved her, loved me.

But as the stress of me being powerless weighed heavier on him, he slowly became someone else. He withdrew from my mother, from me, and she had become my only shield from his cruelty.

But when she passed, that shelter was taken with her, leaving me vulnerable to his increasing malice.

Her death stole his chance at another heir, and he became consumed by bitterness and rage. It felt like a part of him had been buried in the ground beside her.

She had stolen his chance at another heir, taking that heir with her when she died, but it also cast a dark shadow over the entire kingdom, spreading its grip on everyone and everything in its wake.

But despite not being the male heir they desired, a powerful heir, my mother still loved me.

I absently wondered what she would have done if she were still alive. Would she have taken me and fled the kingdom? Or would she have stayed by his side, watching helplessly as he spiraled into darkness.

Either way, I knew that I never could have stayed and become everything he wanted me to be. It would mean losing all sense of me, becoming a mere husk of the girl I once was.

He had already stripped me of so much, and I refused to let him take any more.

Not him or this damn rebellion that would rather see me dead.

I was a powerless girl in a game crafted by powerful men. They moved their pieces with calculated precision, and I couldn't outmaneuver them.

All I could do was run.

I squeezed my eyes closed, beseeching the gods to grant me just a few hours of sleep. The weight of exhaustion hung heavily on my bones, threatening to crush me into the ground, and the thought of the rising sun filled me with dread.

We were already taking too many risks by staying here tonight. Both Eiran and I knew it, but he also knew I couldn't go any farther with this cursed ankle slowing me down like an anchor dragging behind me.

I needed rest. We both did.

But as soon as I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind, my thoughts drifted to Dacre. They constantly drifted to him, like a feather caught in the wind. I couldn't get it to stop.

His stormy eyes, filled with emotion and intensity, pierced through my mind, the memory of his touch.

Where was he?

Was he out there searching for me, consumed by anger and bitterness toward my betrayal? I could only imagine that he was, fueled by his unwavering loyalty to the rebellion.

But I was furious with him as well.

The realization that we had both betrayed each other simmered in me.

I had allowed myself to care for him. Trusted him, and it was a mistake.

Neither of us were born into a world where trust came easily. Suspicion and doubt had lingered between us from the moment we first laid eyes on one another, and I had foolishly let my guard down.

And yet, I still yearned for him.

Despite everything he had done, I couldn't help but long for the man I knew.

Knew —what a twisted irony that word had become. Neither of us truly knew the other.

He thought I was Nyra, the girl from the kingdom who escaped an evil king, but I wasn't that girl. I was Verena, daughter to the queen, pawn to the king who would see our kingdom in ruin.

And I had deceived him. I lied to him over and over, and the weight of that guilt made my skin crawl with each passing moment.

He was right. I was nothing but a traitor.

His actions were fueled by anger toward me, toward what I had done, but that did little to ease the pain and betrayal I felt.

The wounds he'd inflicted were still raw and throbbing, a constant reminder of his cruelty.

A constant reminder that he wasn't here.

A sudden jolt, like a buzz of lightning, ran down my spine, and I snapped my eyes open. I scanned the darkness, searching for any sign of Eiran.

He stood tall by the towering tree, his silhouette blending into the night. His unwavering gaze was fixated on the surrounding forest as he maintained his steady patrol.

As I opened my mouth to call out his name, the familiar tang of magic coated my tongue and traveled down my throat, a pulsing sensation that spread through every inch of my body.

As soon as I stepped out of the hidden city, my power seemed to evaporate into thin air.

But I could feel it now.

The energy that had coursed through me while using magic with Dacre was now a faint echo, like a whisper in a crowded room. The remnants of my power were like a lingering taste in my mouth, teasing and elusive.

It felt like my power was both present and absent at the same time, playing tricks on my mind.

Slowly and carefully, I sat up and took in my surroundings. The moon cast a pale light over the landscape, illuminating the trees and casting deep shadows across the forest floor.

I searched for any signs of disturbance or intrusion, my heart racing with anticipation. But as far as I could see, everything appeared untouched and undisturbed.

The gentle trickle of the nearby river was soothing, but it did little to ease the tension building within me. In the distance, the eerie calls of nocturnal birds echoed through the trees, haunting me as I looked around.

My ears strained for any indication of another presence, but all I could hear was the rapid beating of my own heart. I squinted into the darkness, scanning every inch of the surrounding area. My eyes darted back and forth, trying to catch even the slightest movement in the darkness.

Was someone else here?

The sensation of my magic teased and taunted me, a constant game of fleeting presence and absence. One moment, it surged through my veins like a raging river, but just as quickly, it would dissipate like mist in the wind, leaving me feeling empty and longing for its return.

And yet, just as suddenly, it would reappear, coursing through every inch of my being once more.

What was happening to me?

I glanced over at Eiran, his eyes scanning our surroundings with ease and confidence. While my body was tense with uncertainty, he seemed unbothered by whatever was happening.

I let my gaze drift over his sharp jawline and the relaxed way he held his hands at his sides.

I didn't understand my magic or how it worked, but there was a part of me that feared that the moment I walked away from the hidden city, that Dacre had somehow taken it from me.

After all, I had never possessed any magic until I arrived there, until him.

And the moment I left, it was gone.

But I could feel it now.

The sensation coursed through my veins like a potent drug, leaving me trembling and yearning for more. It was as if I had been deprived of magic my entire life, and now that I had tasted it, I couldn't get enough. My body and mind craved its power, desperate to wield it once again.

I had been powerless my whole life, and that taste of power, it felt dangerous.

I knew my father would stop at nothing to exploit this power for his own gain, but that was only if his men caught me.

I couldn't let them catch me.

Not them nor the rebellion because I feared what either side would do.

Yet, I knew that there had to be a lesser of two evils in this war-torn kingdom.

If Dacre's father got his hands on the reserves, would he use it to help the people of this kingdom like he promised, or would he become just as ruthless as my father?

And what of Dacre himself? Would his loyalty to the rebellion blind him to his father's ruthless ways?

Would Wren's?

I pushed away the tumultuous thoughts and let my gaze linger on Eiran once more. In his presence, I felt a sense of comfort. He had come for me.

Even when his loyalty should have lied elsewhere. Eiran was a rebel. He was meant to be my enemy, but he was still here.

When Dacre discovered my true identity and banished me, Eiran had found me.

As I settled back onto the hard ground and closed my eyes, remnants of magic still trailing through my veins, I tried to force myself not to wish it had been Dacre instead.