22. lavender haze

22

lavender haze

Lavender Cyn

Venom.

It's the tattoo I saw coming down over my face before I was knocked out. Comprehension that her tattoo has two visual meanings to it. Women when shown to others; venom when facing her.

But I saw it as she came up from behind me, leaving me not a breath more to exhale. Neck snapped once again? That's likely, given the aches in my head and the shooting pain that throbs down my back. I know it'll go away within the next few minutes though.

What won't go away is the spitefulness I feel at the person who put me here. My dumb fucking sister. And for the amount of time my fucking neck has played victim at the hands of every person in this God forsaken castle.

I look down at the rest of my body and Deja Vu floods me. I'm covered in blood and my head pounds in an agonizingly painful ache. And these God forsaken chains.

I don't remember much after Troian ventured up those steps . . . until I do.

The curse, obviously a ticking time bomb, decided that then was a good time as any to make its return and now, I sit chained to the same fucking spot I found myself in a few nights ago, feeling an intense rage course through me. As annoyed as I am that I didn't even get so much of a clear sign that I might be falling under—only a light dizzy spell causing me to stumble a bit—I can't say I'm disappointed in the result.

It felt so fucking good knowing that I was what they were afraid of. I grin to myself at the remembrance of the guards bursting through another hidden door and the look on their faces when they realized it was me that they were faced with. But they wouldn't have been afraid of little ole me, that is unlikely. It was the swirl of lavender I know plagued my eyes that affrighted them, stopped them in their tracks and had them backing up like little bitches.

I'm not in control of who I am and how I act when under the binds of this curse. I know that now. But it still doesn't do much to quell the hunger I feel when all that is manufacturing my drive is the need to be the villain I've been forced to become. I haven't been a vampire long enough to know what I'm capable of when I'm free of the wings this wretched thing has on me. But I know that I don't stand a chance fighting myself against the darkness that takes over. The only thing that's changed is that now, I have the knowledge that I'm cursed but as it is, I still simply don't care.

The taste of the first guard's blood didn't satisfy my thirst. But I was foolish and took too much time feeding on him and allowed the others to escape. Though not before their precious king waltzed through the door, hoping to get a glimpse at the queen of the Society far greater than his and instead, he met his fucking maker.

Viktrum's blood still lingers in my hair, on my tongue, and splattered all over my body as I slouch against the wall, decorated with chains. But this time—when I recall my standoff with the king back at Valor Cove—I had learned my lesson. I knew that tearing his pathetic beating organ from his body wouldn't erase the seedy bastard. So I took the sad excuse of a weapon he carried with him as his ugly face stepped out from behind his guards, and I used it to sever his fucking head. Why would he need a weapon , I had laughed. Is he that insecure in his stance as a king?

Before I could lean down and savor the taste of his blood, Troian had climbed back down from the steps to see what I had done, the other guards had already ditched the scene. Her gasp didn't shame me or cause me to try and defend myself. I did what I did because it was fun, and per the grace of nature herself, I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to.

"Lucynda?" I hear Rivian's panicked voice come barreling through the hall of the basement in a shattered echo, and part of me feels like I should worry; my husband will see the mess I've made. But nothing of the time we've spent these last few days seems to affect me in my current state and I just can't bring myself to remember why I should care.

He runs around the corner of the large open doors and stops short when he sees me. Rivian's face looks defeated, maybe even scared. I can't be too sure in the cover of the dark. But I can hear the worry in his tone. I don't spare him a glance knowing that he's looking over at me. I'm right where he wanted me all along; chained to his fucking soul.

"I thought we had more time." His concern should flatter me. But I don't let it.

Rivian continues toward me. I wince because I don't think I want him too close. But he doesn't see me as he reaches my feet and drops to his haunches. "What happened, Cyn?" Fuck , his voice is low and guttural as it drips with worry. It sends a surprising shock of greed to my core and I hate that I still can't deny him.

He expects me to answer him as if I am me . As if I am some scared, fragile vampire who hates the terrifying monster she's become when really, I am reeling under this lavender spell. I get to show the world who I really am and what I'm really made of. No one will taunt me ever again.

All of the horrid things that have been done to me came flooding back the moment the curse started to recourse through my veins while Troy explored the secret room that we found inside the Valor Cove castle. She wasn't there to save me from the disease taking over. Not that she could have done much because it had spread like wildfire, harsh and fast.

I kick my feet out a little, teasing the chains that clasp against my ankles. I lean my head back against the cold bricks behind me and let up a little smirk.

"I killed the king," I respond in a nonchalant tone, rather melodramatic for my taste but once the veil lifts and the villain in me emerges, I have no room for emotions other than the fury that drives me.

"You did what?" Rivian stands, staring down at me now. Awareness materializes; the blood layered on my delicate skin, caressing the scar he loves to cherish, and seeping into my clothes is that of his enemy.

Where's his appreciation?

"Lucynda, please tell me that you-" I stand, cutting him off from finishing his judgmental conclusion. Rage boils over at his seemingly concerned tone and his question of my actions. It's as if he is disappointed in me and I won't stand for that.

I lunge for him, knowing that I am bound to the wall.

"I eliminated a threat. That's what queens do!" I shout my prideful accomplishments at him with anger clinging to my timbre. My words echo off the walls around us as I watch my dearly beloved's eyes shift from concern to the utter fury that I know plagues him.

"I think that instead of coddling me or worrying about my actions, you should be down on your fucking knees thanking me for erasing the problems you face." I swing my chained arm, wanting to serve a purpose by threatening him with a warning, but he doesn't flinch.

Instead, he matches my thunder with his own and spits his own argument my way.

"You did not do this for me," he accuses me with a pointed finger. "You did this because you had no control. Because you are diseased with what I've done to you." His voice trails off, his words sounding more empathetic than argumentative and I roll my eyes.

"I am not a victim. Spare me your pity," I scoff as I try once again to yank the chains, knowing they won't budge.

"I will fix this," he murmurs under his breath. And it's something I know he'd normally say as he touches my face, traces my scar all while looking me right in the eye. I can practically feel the feather of his fingers as he says, but then I shake the ghost of a feeling.

"Don't even waste your time. I don't need fixing," I argue.

The air between us feels lost and disoriented. Almost like a fever dream. Rivian seems trounced by my disputatiousness but I'm drowning in my hollowed tribulations, void of feeling and not sympathetic to the pain I cause. At least in lavendulan messorem; the connection between us is futile and sparse.

"This is normal," he remarks, obviously attempting his best to seem empathetic to the cause and trying not to show the anger I know he wants to have out with me. "The virulence of this curse is destroying your mentality but what you're feeling and experiencing, it's normal for-"

"Nothing about what I am is normal, Rivian!" I vociferate, feeling provoked and aggravated as I allow myself to let down the walls I've built for only a second. "I hate who I've become, I don't even know who I am anymore." My words escape me, words that I don't care to admit as humanity evades me but the exhaustion that takes over becomes too much to contain.

I feel nothing. Numb. Void. A split second is all it takes for the cognizance of my condition to sink in; I am doomed if this is the life I strive to live in; if I don't let anyone try to save me. But I can't push down the resentment that rapidly grows within me.

The desire to not be saved.

Rivian still battles with his desire to look me in the eye, face me and tell me it's going to be okay. But he won't. He refuses eye contact because he knows what I know. He'll love the danger of me too much to resist. He won't be able to fight the hold I have on him in my glaze of corruption.

A dark queen to match the dark king. Fitting. But he's too weak to the idea, knowing his limits, so he steps backward instead.

"Don't you fucking leave me in here!" I shout, twisting myself in the mess of chains, feeling the burn from the metal, tight around my skin. The epiphany I had moments ago is lost in the hunger for more pain.

"I don't want to leave you," I hear the confliction in his tone. It grips him like his deepest regret but he continues to recede, walking away.

"If you leave me here you will fucking regret it." I feel the scratch in the back of my throat; the crack in my voice as I yell at him. My wrath is detrimental, forcing me to feel hate for the man who refuses to face me. And I can't promise the lengths of my threat, but I know that in this moment, I will resent him for leaving me here again.

I look up at Rivian, vexation exploding in my chest. His back is turned to me, and I can't hear anything else over the frustrating rush of blood that travels between my ears.

"I don't have a choice, baby," he whispers. Repeating words that I remember hearing from him once before. But I don't let that memory sink in; I shake it off as I continue to fight, and twist, and pull. Seething because I'm trapped against my will once again, prisoner to the control of someone else.

But what I fail to understand, the one thing that torments me the most, the one thing I refuse to face, is the fact that I am really only a prisoner to myself.