17. Mira

seventeen

Mira

As time passes, neither Shard finds their way back to my rooms. The afternoon sun sets a buttery glow dancing off the white marble floors of my sitting room. A sitting room. I almost laugh to myself at the idea. Here I am trapped in a villain's secret lair deep in a mountain range like the fucking fortress of solitude propped up in a chaise lounge in my sitting room. My life just keeps getting more and more bizarre.

I wonder what Lisa would say about this, and my heart aches just a little at the thought. I miss my best friend. I'd give anything to have her here with me right now. She can make any situation seem light and easy.

I let out a heavy sigh as I brace myself to stand up. My leg is better than yesterday already, so hopefully in a few days it won't hurt to walk anymore. If Sunder were here, he'd make me walk on it to get stronger or at least to practice enduring the discomfort because you never know when you're going to need to run or fight.

The growl of his voice in my head brings a sad smile to my lips as I make my way to the empty corridor beyond my rooms. I need to find Callum and talk about earlier. I just want to make sure he's okay. He's probably back down in the dungeons though, and the idea of walking that many stairs with this pain running the length of my leg is not appealing. But it's not like Tairyn would deliver a note for me or anything. Besides, I don't think I want them talking to each other more than they already do.

The tension and anger between them are palpable. For good reason, I know.

Two flights of spiraling, medieval style steps and long halls later, I'm leaning against the stone wall trying to take some weight off my injured leg for a moment.

There's no way I'm going to make it all the way down to the dungeons. This was stupid. I turn around and hope the throbbing will go away after I get back to my room and sit for a while. With each step, the pain becomes sharper, radiating from my knee into my hip and thigh. I take a sharp intake of breath as my foot lands at an odd angle, stumbling over the uneven stone floor, just as two hands grasp my arm to steady me.

I gasp in surprise as Callum emerges from an open doorway, a towel slung low around his hips and the perfect V of his muscles pointing to what I'd like to see next. His lean body glistens with drops of water, and he shakes his wet blonde hair to clear it from his eyes. My heart stutters like I just walked into a men's body wash commercial.

Freshly shaven, the scar running down his cheek is more visible now, puckered and angry pink. The slash runs from his cheek down to his chest and curves across his shoulder. I blink a few times, a bit stunned by his appearance. I barely miss the Chroma that should flow between us.

Damn shield.

"What are you doing down here?" He asks, almost chiding me like a misbehaving child. "You should be resting."

I yank my arms from his grip, feeling ashamed of myself for leering at him like a piece of meat. "I'm fine," I lie. Averting my eyes, I continue my pathetic little limp down the hall, but Callum falls in step beside me. His hands hover beside me like a parent behind their toddling baby.

"Just let me help you."

His voice is frustrated and soft. I take another step, wincing at the shooting pain racing down my entire leg. I've clearly overworked the still-healing limb. My teeth clench with the deep determination to refuse assistance. Why am I like this? I'm just so stubborn that I won't admit that I need help?

It unsettles something deep inside of me. It's not pride or ego, I know. The opposite, if I'm honest with myself. I flash back to times when good people offered me help when I truly needed it, and I still told them no thank you and insisted on struggling alone. From big gestures like offering to help me move and even small things like ‘can I help you carry that?', I've always declined.

Despite the genuine offers, I think a part of me believed I don't deserve their help. I don't want to be an inconvenience to anyone else. I'm not worthy of their trouble.

I'm nothing.

I swallow the lump in my throat at the revelation, and my desire to refuse slowly unravels. I blink back a tear and turn to Callum, meeting his soft gaze that seems to analyze every inch of my being, every subtle movement of the lines I know etch my face.

In the back of my mind, my old mantra flows through me. And for the first time, I realize I'm finally starting to believe it. He doesn't see me as a nuisance. He wants to help me because I'm a person who is in pain, and he wants to ease my burden. I am worthy of his time.

I nod at him, and wordlessly he scoops one arm beneath my knees, taking care to be gentle with my leg. His other arm slips around my back, and he pulls me close to his chest. I'm lifted from the ground. Water droplets fall from his hair onto the exposed skin of my arms, feeling like soothing rain on a warm day. The surprise at how easy it feels to just let him, a virtual stranger, take care of me makes me laugh softly.

"What's so funny?" Callum asks, his voice vibrating against my ear as the damp skin of his body warms me through. When I don't answer, he doesn't press me for one. I study him up close for the first time as he carries me through the eerie quiet. Despite only knowing him for a very short time, there's a familiarity to him I find so comforting. I feel like I know him.

His face in this proximity is a sweet torture. Every feature stands out in sharp relief, the dark shadows etched beneath his electric blue eyes, the faint lines that crease at the corners and tell of sleepless nights.

My fingers reach up to touch the scar on his cheek, but he flinches away, a flicker of something painful flashing in those mesmerizing eyes. I retract my hand quickly, feeling a pang of regret for overstepping the boundary.

"I'm sorry," I breathe out, "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine." The words rush out reflexively. He looks away from me, his jaw hardening.

Before I can say more, we arrive back in my rooms. Callum places me gently on the lounge chair that has become my temporary home, backing out without a word.

"Thank you," I call to his back. "Will you come back?" His hand rests on the doorframe as he turns back, taking me in once more with a long, assessing gaze. I hurriedly add, "When you're ready. I… I want to talk to you. Get to know you better."

A small wash of relief hits me when he nods his head before disappearing. I glance at the retreating sun, knowing Tairyn will probably return for dinner. Luckily, only ten minutes pass before Callum knocks on my door again, this time fully clothed.

I smile warmly at him as he walks in, his eyes darting between me and the open balcony behind me. I realize he hasn't been outside in months.

"Will you sit on the balcony with me?" Without waiting for a reply, I stand up to make my way to the two wrought-iron chairs. Without hesitation, Callum is beside me, his arm snaking around my waist. My leg is feeling much better after the short rest, but I don't mind him being next to me.

After helping me into my chair, I watch him inhale the fresh air deeply as he settles into his own. His eyes trace the mountain peaks, assessing more than admiring. "The Western Slopes," he says under his breath with a sense of satisfaction that makes me smile. A sense of peace seems to spread through him as his shoulders droop slightly. His fingers idly rub the loose fabric of his shirt as he takes in our surroundings.

After a while, I pry my eyes away from him and let them settle on the now-orange glow of the sunset over the snowy peaks. The silence is comfortable, like sitting with an old friend.

Finally, as the last rays of day dip beneath the horizon, I ask the question that's been on my mind. "Why didn't you tell me who you are?"

He shows no outward surprise at the sudden interruption of our peace. In fact, for a long moment he doesn't react. When I wonder whether he heard me at all, he finally turns to me, locking eyes. "I'm sorry, Mira. I did not intend to deceive you, and I apologize if it caused you any pain."

A genuine apology for something I'm not even upset about. Sure, in the moment I felt a stab of anger, but it faded quickly. "I appreciate the apology, but you didn't answer the question."

His mouth twists into a frown, brows furrowed as he stares at hands now still in his lap.

"I suppose I was…afraid. It's easier to be a stranger, sometimes. No expectations, no preconceived notions."

I sit quietly, taking in his words. His answer is as raw and honest as I might have hoped for, and it makes my heart ache because I understand that sentiment too well. You can't disappoint someone if they expect nothing from you. How many people have I kept at arm's length for a similar reason, even refusing freely offered help by people I know care for me?

Because I didn't feel worthy of their time or love. I didn't feel worthy of the space I occupied in their minds.

I reach across the empty space between us, grabbing his hand in mine. I almost miss the subtle flinch as my fingers wrap around his. My heart stills for a moment. "Is this okay?" I ask. He gives a curt nod that signals to me it clearly is not. But before I can pull away, he wraps his fingers into mine with a soft squeeze.

"I enjoy spending time with you, Callum."

The words dance between us before I even realize I've spoken them out loud. His eyes catch mine, holding my gaze for a moment before fluttering away. "My company isn't exactly…desirable," he says, a darkness casting over his features.

"That's for me to decide, isn't it?" I ask, squeezing his hand tighter. He doesn't reply, but there's a ghost of a smile on his lips as he looks back towards the vast expanse of Illuemera. We sit in silence again, allowing the stars to blanket the sky above us. For a while, I just absorb the beauty of the night sky in this magical realm, letting it soothe the aches in my heart.

The quiet longing for home, for normal.

The ache for sweet Callum, so earnest yet with a river of turmoil beneath the surface that I can't quite reach.

The endless curiosity and worry for Bobble and Sunder. Where are they right now? What sort of trouble have they gotten themselves into? Do they even know I'm alive?

But the most confusing knot inside me is for Tairyn. It feels like there's so much behind the curtain, waiting to be unveiled. His sharp wit, his sarcasm, the way he spins words like a master weaver - somehow, it all feels like a fa?ade, a mask he wears to keep others at bay. A part of me yearns to chip that mask away, to see what lays beneath.

After everything that happened with my ex-husband, I remind myself to focus on actions rather than words. So, what do Tairyn's actions tell me?

I don't have much time to ponder that as the door to my room opens behind us, as if my thoughts have summoned him. I notice the way Tairyn's eyes immediately narrow to where our hands are clasped together. Jumping up, I drop Callum's hand like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and shame washes over me.

What is wrong with me?

Callum rises to his feet slowly, his jaw tight as he steps back into the airy sitting room where Tairyn waits by the door. "Glad to see you're enjoying yourself, Cal. Now you understand being my honored guest has its benefits. Shall I come back tomorrow?"

The last is directed at me, but I don't miss the way Callum's demeanor changes completely. I consider telling him yes just to spite him, but I'm ready to get this shield off me and see if I can reach Sunder and Bobble through the bond.

"No, I'm ready now."

He looks surprised, but only for a moment. Then he grins, displaying a row of perfectly white teeth. There's a gleam in his green eyes that sends a chill down my spine. "Very well," he says, flourishing his hand towards the open door. "Sleep well, Cal ."

I watch as Callum glances first at me, then at Tairyn and finally exits through the open door with a stiff nod. As soon as the door clicks shut, Tairyn turns to me, the amusement in his eyes now replaced with a harder, more calculating gaze.

I take a deep breath and prepare myself. This is going to be an interesting evening.