16. Callum

sixteen

Callum

For hours, I wait for Mira to return to the dungeons. It took only a few minutes after their departure for Tairyn's makeshift Chroma bonds and gag to dissipate. Clearly, he didn't want my intervention, not that I would have been much help. I haven't held Chroma since before the Shattering. Besides, there's no telling which hue I'll have if I do get it back.

In truth, magic doesn't entice me the way it seems to bewitch others. The opposite really. I find the magic in this world repulsive. A source of contention and an excuse to belittle others while lifting a select few. Instead of serving our world with this supposed gift from the Gods, those with Chroma hoard it for themselves, only allowing their families to benefit. Over the millennia, many families have gone so far as forced inbreeding to keep the bloodlines pure.

I've yet to see Chroma add anything beneficial to this world beyond healing, I suppose. But it's not like that can even be distributed to wide swatches of people. Sure, Azuryn is famous for its hospital, open and free to all. Mostly the healers are common fae volunteers, but occasionally some channelers will find their way in. Legends say it was filled to the brim with channelers when it was first founded. But it seems more like scholars were incentivized to make their city seem greater than it is.

It's better than nothing. Be grateful for what is given.

The voice in my head is a distant echo of my brother's chiding. Cor'than was always more optimistic than me, opting to see the best in others. Much like our sister, Eyveriel. A stain of old grief trickles into my chest as her face dances in my mind's eye.

I wonder who she would be now, had I not failed her so catastrophically. I certainly wouldn't be the same. My mind drifts from the uncomfortable subject. There are too many unknowable things. The questions, even an idle pondering, feel insurmountable.

My fingers drum away a distant tune I vaguely recognize against my thighs. The small quake caused minimal damage in my cell. Only a few pebbles lay scattered along the floor. The way Mira screamed and the crashes I heard next door…

But he healed her. Somehow, he came and saved her. I should be grateful for that, and I am. My stomach just twists at the thought of his hands on her, touching her. He's probably upstairs, taking advantage of her gratitude now.

Her hands slide up his chest. He lifts her shirt over her head.

A deep swell of nausea twists in my core, my face turning red hot as the images flash one after the other. I don't even know what she looks like, and yet I can't stop the impulse to torture myself with thoughts of her with the others.

I glance down at my hands, now still against the faded black fabric of my pants.

It's not like she'd ever want me, anyway. It's better for her to find happiness, I tell myself, swallowing a lump in my throat. With a sigh, I push myself off the icy stone wall and start pacing the narrow cell. The space is constricting, oppressive. My thoughts chase each other in endless circles, making me dizzy.

I need something to do, anything to distract myself. Finding a pebble amidst the debris on the floor, I toss it against the wall. It bounces back, landing clumsily near my foot. A game of sorts then, something to dull the restlessness.

Hours roll into one another as I lose myself in the mindless activity. The stone wall numbs my fingers and each echo of pebble on stone fills the silent gap between my thoughts.

By the time dinner arrives, I know Mira will not be returning to the dungeons. Licking my lips, the decision weighs heavily on me. For months I've stayed in this cell. When Tairyn first brought me here that night after our taproom banter, I was furious. I raged against him. Against the injustice of my imprisonment.

Yet Tairyn remained calm and unmoved by all my rantings. He offered me comfortable rooms with nice views and books for days. I still do not understand his motives. Why keep me captive at all?

Instead, I spat in his face, and screamed until my own was red as a tomato. "If you're going to keep me prisoner, don't put me in a nice room just to assuage your own guilt. I'll stay in the dungeons because that's where prisoners are kept."

I've never once questioned or regretted that choice. I am his prisoner, unable to leave the confines of this secret estate of his. I refuse to let him pretend otherwise. So, in this cell I've rotted, spending countless hours staring into nothingness, wondering what might stare back.

But the longer I wait for Mira to return, the more my resolve fades. By breakfast the following morning, I finally know what I must do. The idea makes my skin crawl. It goes against everything I believe in walking through that barred, yet unlocked door.

Yet there will be no other way to ensure Mira is safe. To make sure that cruel prick hasn't done something to her. I'll leave the dungeon, ensure she's safe, and return quietly. I may be betraying myself by leaving, but I refuse to give Tairyn the satisfaction.

Still, I take until nearly lunchtime to push that cell door open, creaking along the iron hinges like a song of my defeat. If guilt had a taste, it would probably taste like the cold, metallic sting of the door handle. A part of me feels as though I'm betraying my own morals by just stepping a single toe into the dingy dungeon corridor, the only light from flickering torches lining the walkway.

No use in worrying about that now.

I climb the stairs two at a time, eager to find her. I can already see Tairyn's smug face in my mind at my sudden change of heart regarding my imprisonment. With each step, my anxiety grows, and I try to shake it off. I have Mira to think about, and that is far more important than my dread of Tairyn's gloating.

As I walk along the deserted corridors, I catch sight of a servant girl. She jumps at my sudden appearance, almost dropping her tray of dishes. Probably at my mangled appearance too, if I'm being honest. The scar across my cheek makes me enough of a monster. Add in the grime from a dungeon with no sunlight for months. I can only imagine the horror she feels laying her eyes upon me.

"Where is she?" The question is out of my mouth before I can think better of it. She must know instantly who I speak of because she stammers out vague instructions about the suite of rooms on the top level.

I don't wait for her to finish before I'm moving, navigating the winding corridors and climbing the seemingly endless stairs. This place is more of a maze than I imagined, having only been outside the dungeons once the day I arrived.

Eventually, as my chest heaves from the effort of climbing stairs and listening to different rooms, I find a wooden door with life behind it. A simple sound of muffled movement, maybe a chair leg scraping against the floor.

It could be Tairyn. Or another servant. Maybe he even hosts guests here. I don't pretend to know the workings of this estate.

I brace myself for a potentially awkward intrusion as I knock my white knuckles lightly against the wood grain.

"Come in," a familiar voice calls out, soft yet commanding. A jolt of relief shoots through me. It's Mira. I push the door open and step inside.

The suite is spacious, filled with plush furniture and warm lighting. A beautifully voluptuous human woman sits on a lounge chair near an open balcony door, a book in her hand, her hair falling loosely across her shoulders. Her hazel eyes flash as they meet mine, a mix of surprise and confusion.

For a moment, I'm a statue. Stunned and wide-eyed, I take her in, letting her scent fill my mind with a small hope. How can my mate be so beautiful? My heart twists, waiting for disgust to reach her eyes as she realizes who I am.

"C-Callum?"

Unease in her tone makes the pit of my stomach drop. I run a hand through my hair with a halfhearted attempt to smooth it back, but it just falls back into my eyes. My face unshaved, body unwashed. My face is already that of a monster. I'm not doing myself any favors.

I take a step back, shaking my head. I shouldn't have come. She's safe. That's all I needed to know. Finally able to avert my eyes from hers, they stick to my shoes as I turn to leave.

Stupid. It was stupid to come.

"No." Mira's voice is soft, her words almost inaudible. I freeze mid-step. "Wait."

I turn back to her, and the look in her eyes makes me pause. It's not fear or revulsion, but concern. She puts the book down, rising from her seat to approach me with a subtle limp. "Please stay."

She motions to the small table. A tray of fresh breads and a steaming bowl of soup wait patiently upon it, obviously just delivered, and set for two. Was she expecting me? But no, that doesn't…

"What's this? Cal finally puts aside his pride and leaves the dungeons? I never thought I'd see the day."

Tairyn's approach is slow. With each slow step through the open doorway, his mocking smile curves higher. My blood boils as I turn to face him. My teeth grit against the inane nickname he insists on calling me. His perfectly coiffed hair is not out of place, and his clothes are starched and immaculate, making me even more aware of my unkempt appearance. His green eyes glint with malicious glee as he looks me up and down.

"Couldn't be bothered to find a bath first, I see," he drawls, that annoying smirk dancing on his lips.

"Don't you have anything better to do, Tairyn?" I say tersely. The urge to wipe that smug smile off his face is almost overpowering.

He only chuckles, seating himself at the table with an air of leisurely disdain. His gaze flickers between Mira and me, clearly entertained by the situation. I clench my fists and fight the urge to punch that smile off his face. "Oh, watching you make a fool of yourself is better than anything I had planned today."

"How did you get out?" Mira asks, ignoring the tension between us.

Tairyn scoffs from his seat at the table, leaning back with an annoyed twist on his lips. "He was never locked in, Vessel. I gave him these rooms, in fact, but the twat wanted to stay in the dungeon instead."

The bitter annoyance in his tone is reason enough. I'm glad that I got under his skin. "I'm a prisoner. Why should I stay anywhere else?"

Her brows furrow in confusion, her gaze flickering between Tairyn and me. "You chose to stay in the dungeons?"

I nod, crossing my arms over my chest. She takes a step back, her head cocked as if taking me in anew. "You didn't have to do that, Callum. You didn't deserve to be locked up."

"The self-righteous martyr," Tairyn interjects with a roll of his eyes. He picks up a piece of bread and breaks it in half, his attention on the food rather than us.

"Would you shut it?" Mira snaps, her frustration clear in the way her eyebrows pinch together. "Just go away."

His gaze meets hers, apparently taken aback by her boldness. Their eyes lock for a moment, as if debating how far to take the challenge, and then he responds with his usual confident smirk. "As you wish. Though I hate to get a late start on our little agreement," he says, setting the bread down with a small sigh of resignation.

He rises from the table, brushing invisible crumbs off his spotless clothing. As he strides from the room, he casts one last triumphant glance over his shoulder. "Enjoy your freedom, Cal," he says before disappearing from our sight.

I watch Mira as she takes a deep breath, her shoulders visibly relaxing once Tairyn is out of sight. She turns back to me, but before she can speak, I have to ask. "What little agreement?"

She shifts on her feet, not meeting my gaze. "We made a bonded bargain," she murmurs. "After I bond him, he'll release me. He's also agreed to teach me what he knows about using Chroma."

I blink as the words sink in, my mind spinning with the implications. "A bonded bargain? With him?" I try to keep my voice neutral as I speak, but the sickening twist in my stomach reveals my true feelings.

She nods, her gaze remaining on the floor. "It's my best chance at freedom. I'll come back for you. Make him release you too once I have my powers and the others." Her voice is low, filled with a determination that surprises me.

"But…" The words stick in my throat like shards of glass, a bitter taste lingering on my tongue. "You trust him?"

"Of course not," she admits after a moment of silence, finally meeting my eyes again. "I'm doing what I have to."

"By selling yourself to him?" She recoils as if I've just slapped her, her gaze piercing into mine - a mix of hurt and anger. I immediately regret the hateful words. I let out a frustrated sigh and run a hand through my hair, unable to meet her gaze. Guilt gnaws at me like a persistent rat.

"That's not fair, Callum," she whispers. "It's not like I'm just going to sleep with him. That's not how it works. Besides, you're one to talk. You didn't even tell me you were a Shard. Or that you weren't actually a prisoner."

"I am a prisoner. I'm not allowed to leave this place, same as you." I open my mouth to say more. To apologize, but I can't. An apology would require explaining myself, and I don't even fully understand why I said nothing. Finally, I just shake my head with a murmured, "I'm sorry."

When I finally look back up at her, her gaze is laced with pity. I clench my jaw, refusing to accept it. Deep down, I knew meeting my fated mate was a mistake. I knew she'd either be repulsed by me or pity me. That I'm not… normal.

Without another word, I turn on my heels. I hear her call after me, and I mumble something about finding a bath first. Anger seethes through me as I stomp away, but not at her. At myself. Why did I even come up here? Clearly, I'm disappointed with how it went, so that means I must have had an expectation of how it would go.

Expectations, desires, wants…

Those are the roots of all evil, not Chroma or money or privilege.

If I didn't want something, I wouldn't be disappointed.

What could I even want from her?