2. Theo

Theo

Well. I'm free.

Apparently.

It's over.

I lean my forehead against the heavy wooden door, so similar but a world apart from the door that kept me captive for weeks, and inhale a deep breath. Hold it for one count. Two. Three. Four.

Breathe out.

Then in again.

It's an old trick, but it doesn't work. I squeeze my eyes shut against the violent feeling boiling up inside of me, threatening to burst out of me like a volcano.

It is too much, too many emotions fighting a savage battle inside, and I don't know what to feel first. A sob escapes the breath I'm holding, and I reign it all back in.

Another breath.

It had been easier before, surrounded by my rescuers -my friends?- for days. Even during our arrival here at the Black Stump Tavern, mobbed by patrons celebrating our return. I could keep control, hold it together…

Maybe I should call Seldon back, the pretty, flamboyant server who came and showed me to my room. He seemed kind. Maybe he could…

Do nothing.

Because there is nothing to be done.

My rescuers—my brother and his mate Caelan, the wild witch Edith, goofball wolf shifter Seff—have all gone off to their own rooms for an extremely well deserved rest.

Roan is probably here too.

Of course he is.

Fucking Roan.

It's like his scent is imprinted everywhere. Which makes sense, because this is his tavern. But it's not that. It's like it's imprinted in me. I hate it.

That's a lie.

Perhaps I should call Seldon back. He can knock me unconscious, and I can just not face this.

Big deep breath again.

Ok, maybe facing this doesn't have to be so bad. Maybe I don't have to face being kidnapped by a murderous ancient fae- also known as Marieth- and having her steal my fae gift and power, the very essence of my being, who I am.

Or that without them I have no future. Well, certainly not one in academics, anyway. Or that I put my brother and his friends in mortal danger. Or that she was going to eat my heart while I still breathed.

Maybe I can just face this room, and another shut door, and being alone. Again .

I've had enough practice being alone, even before the whole kidnapping and being held captive thing. One night in a tavern full of people shouldn't be hard. I can do this.

Strengthening my resolve I push myself away from the door, scrubbing furiously at my face, wiping away the tears that had escaped, as though erasing them erased their having existed. Stepping away from the anchor of the door, I take in my room here at the tavern.

It's big, warm and inviting, and utterly perfect. A fire burns in the wooden fireplace beneath a beautifully shining mantle piece, hand carved in dark timber that matches the rest of the room's furniture. Above the mantle, a large oval mirror reflects the light of the candles burning there.

A small table with two chairs and a steaming bowl of something that smells delicious is tucked into a little breakfast nook off to one side of the fireplace and a large chest of drawers to the other.

Standing large and imposing, taking up much of the room, is a four poster bed with navy and emerald green patterned bedding and more pillows than I know what to do with.

It looks so soft and cosy, but nearly anything would after sleeping on the ground for the last few nights and before that, the awful cot at Marieth's. A shiver wracks through my body as the memories seep into the edge of my consciousness.

Violently shoving them back where they belong, into the deep dark recesses of a box labelled "later", I cross the room to push open the only other door in the room. And there it is, one of the many things I had dreamed about during my captivity.

The Bathroom .

Blessed and glorious indoor plumbing .

The bathroom is only small, tiny really, compared to the bathroom in my quarters at home. My parents' home. Everything there is big, though, as they tend to be in castle-like mansions like our family estate.

But this tiny, white-tiled bathroom is fresh and clean and comfortable. Which is a billion times better than having to scrub your bits quickly out in nature, or the bucket I'd been subjected to in the basement.

It takes me a second to figure out the hot water but I manage to get it turned on and let it run to get the water steaming hot.

Sitting on the toilet lid while I wait, steam billows out of the shower and fills the room, fogging up the mirror I have been avoiding. I don't think I am quite ready to face myself just yet.

Once the water is perfect I strip my borrowed, too big clothes, refusing to look at myself. I have always been skinny—unlike my brother and his perfectly sculpted muscles. I had never really grown into my "grown up" body.

I can do without the reminder that I've become weaker, scrawnier and paler than ever. Stepping out of the pile of clothes gathered at my feet, I wobble over the edge of the tub and into the shower.

My legs are exhausted and trembling, but I refuse to give in to the weakness and manage to get myself under the scalding spray. I have a lot of experience shoving down uncomfortable feelings, painful experiences. Growing up a gifted fae prodigy, blessed with the gift of Knowledge like no one had ever seen before hadn't been the boon everyone assumed.

As a child I'd easily blown past my peers. I'd then been pushed into higher and higher levels of academics until eventually I landed in amongst a bunch of adults who had no idea what to do with the brilliant but weird kid that had landed in their midst. As I had gotten older, their amused tolerance had become more jaded, filled with envy and scorn.

It was lonely. It was isolating. It was a curse.

And now it is gone .

Soaking under the water I let my mind drift, the depressing thoughts floating to the surface, too tired to fight the memories of schoolyard bullies and teasing, of my academic peers' rejection and eventually of pain and torture. Of Marieth standing above me, boline poised to rend my heart from my chest to complete her ritual.

And that's enough of that .

I slam off the water and grope in the bathroom for a towel, almost slipping when I step over the tub edge. Rubbing myself with a towel, it finally dawns on me, I have no underwear . Nothing to wear at all actually.

That stupid little detail is the thing that breaks the final thin thread holding me together. My eyes blur with tears, and I stumble through the room, trying valiantly to inhale the sobs of the total meltdown I have been waiting weeks to have.

Thankfully, I manage to make it to my bed just as the torrent unleashes. The sheets are soft and comforting against my skin and I hate the pleasant sensation so at odds with how I feel on the inside.

I wrap my naked, still damp body in the sheets, letting the heavy bedding weigh me down. My sobs overtake me, silent and breathless. My lungs burn with each gasp. A tidal wave of guilt smashes into my pain, shame that I am feeling so wretched when I had been saved . When people, good people , had risked themselves to save me.

Guilt, fear, loneliness, shame and sorrow war within me, battling to crush the last remaining bits of my spirit.

And I let them.

Always too weak to fight, I let my emotions run rampant through me, until exhaustion finally, blissfully claims me.

***

The scent of flowers and death are suffocating. Like the scent has become corporeal and is smothering my face. I can almost see it. Bile rising and burning my throat, I choke on it.

There is a laugh, only I don't hear it. I feel it. It vibrates in my bones and I realise I am pinned to something hard and wooden. The texture is rough under my skin and I try to open my eyes, but I can't. They are closed. Locked. Sealed by the deathly floral phantom permeating my oxygen.

Someone is talking.

They are close.

I can feel them by my side. There is no heat from their body, but I can feel their energy, their power. Their wrongness , like a buzzing under my skin making primitive fear flare in my body.

I should run. I need to go.

I try to lift my limbs but I can't. I have lost all dominion over my body. It no longer belongs to me, I am powerless. That spark of fear combusts into a raging inferno, every instinct I possess telling me to flee. But I can't.

I try to recognise the words she - I am sure it is a she - is speaking. If you can call the disembodied echoing noise she is making, speaking. Her words are not in this language. They are not in any language I have ever heard.

But it is one that I have read.

"Wake little fae, I know you can hear me," there is a cackle and my skin singes as if electrified, "today your pain ends. I can feel it all. But your torment is soon over. And then, I will take your brother too." She titters a laugh that was probably intended as girlish but is instead gruesome.

There is a rush of air and chanting. And then pain. Pain the likes of which I have never known. My mouth snaps open in a silent scream as my body contorts—the loud snaps of my bones bending and breaking, then resetting again is deafening. I can still hear her laughter. She enjoys my pain.

Marieth.

And then I feel it, what she was truly after.

My power. My gift.

I have never really felt them before, they simply exist inside of me, but I can feel them now. Burning my insides as she calls them forth. Like balls of lava, they flow from me, through my body, out of my gaping mouth. I feel the burn as the energy passes my lips and then, the unnatural emptiness within me. Like I have been carved out, hollow.

There is a rush, and a burst, blinding white light which fades rapidly to darkness. Empty, vast black.

Like the world is blank.

Until it's not.

Chaos. Chaos and explosions.

I don't know and I can't move.

I need to get to safety but I cannot make my body go. Why can't I make my body move?

But it doesn't matter, because safety is here. The smell of rotting death and flowers is gone, replaced by something else. Something spicy and warm and safe.

I know it in my spirit. I am taken from the rough wooden thing, and the warm, spicy smell wraps around me like a blanket.

But then it is gone again.

And I am in the Whisper Woods. Alone. Where did it go?

I try to find it, but everything is moving out of sync, out of time.

It is night here. The trees are looming above me. It is so cold. I miss that warmth. It was good . At least the pain has ended.

I look around the Woods, the world and time finally catching up to each other. There are many paths, but there is no light, not even the moon is shining in the blank dark sky. There is just me, and the darkness. And the beings of the Woods. I shouldn't be here alone.

It isn't safe.

I was safe a moment ago.

Where did the warmth go? It was so nice. I've never felt like that before.

Someone is calling my name. I can hear them, calling from one of the dark paths. The voice is familiar. Deep and rich and melodious. It feels like it should be safe, but cold tendrils of fear creep up my back, making me shiver.

They are still calling. Deep instinct tells me that whichever way they are calling from, I should go the other. But I do not know which way that is.

I take one step, and can feel the leaves crunching under my bare feet. There is a rustle in the trees. My name is calling louder. Why can't I place that voice? Irritation tickles the base of my skull, the name on the tip of my tongue. There is a rustle again and I jump.

"There you are, Theo, it's time to come home." Roan. It is Roan. Roan is safe . I run towards him, his big, muscular body barely visible in the shadows. I can see the outline of his magnificent horns, the glint of his skin and his outstretched hand. Warmth infuses my bones again, chasing away the chill of my fear and the night of the Woods. It feels as if I am running in place to get to him, my feet burning from being scratched in the leaf litter, the distance seeming to grow the more I try to reach him.

When I finally draw near, he changes shape. It is no longer Roan waiting for me. But someone else.

The voice . Darius.

Tall, slim, his perfectly styled blonde hair and sleek suit at odds with the wild woodland surrounding him.

"There you are, Theo, it's time to come home." His voice is kind, and his arm is outstretched. Darius. He is right. It's time to go home. Darius is always right about these things.

I reach out to take his hand, still missing that warmth that was there only moments ago. Where did it go again? I see my hand reaching out, brushing Darius' long, elegant fingers.

My hand rests in his for a brief moment before his hands snap around mine like a trap and they transform into something wrong and beastly. At once beautiful and golden, ethereal perfection and ghostly deathlike claws. Marieth .

The grasp on my hand is vicious, tugging me forward. I daren't look up at the hideous being. She was dead. She was gone .

"Time to come home, Theo," her incorporeal voice vibrates through every cell in my body. And I scream.

I awaken with a hard jerk, which is extra uncomfortable because I have somehow wrapped myself up so thoroughly in the sheets that I am completely restrained.

A dull throbbing pulses in my skull with even the smallest movements. It hurts so much I give up. Everything aches, and for a second I relish that my body is in such good alignment with my head. I try to blink my eyes open but they are gritty and swollen, no doubt from the masses of tears I shed last night.

After my time in Marieth's basement, I doubted I would ever have any tears left, but I have definitely proved myself wrong.

Guess I wasn't such a genius after all.

I laugh bitterly at my own wit, enjoying the biting slice of self deprecation, but laughing hurts my head so I regret it.

Carefully I try to extricate myself from the sheets that are somehow knotted around one of my thighs. Thankfully, I have lost so much weight from my already too skinny body, I can just slip my leg out.

My mouth feels like cotton, and I lick my parched lips, slowly sitting up, swinging my now free legs over the side of the bed. Sitting upright, the throbbing feels so much stronger, it feels loud .

I realise a little too late that it's because it is loud. It's also not coming from inside my head - someone is pounding at the door. I glance down at my pale body, almost an exact match for the sheets, and then back over my shoulder, towards the door. Whoever is knocking is calling for me now.

The little latch is in place, keeping the outside world securely out there . And me in here . Where it's safe.

Exhaustion overwhelms me, despite not having done much of anything. Maybe I don't need that water after all. My eyes flick from the door to the now cold, untouched dinner sitting on the tiny table and back to the bed.

I try to will myself to stand up, but I seem to have no agency over my body. On the other side of the door I can hear whispers. They sound angry. Harsh. And I glare at them, the people I cannot see, the people disturbing my rest.

I definitely need rest. Rest is a good idea.

Weariness washes over me, and I slide back between the still warm sheets of the bed. It's better this way. I squeeze my eyes shut against the world, against the black thoughts swirling in my subconscious, burrowing myself into the blankets like a child afraid of the dark.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll get up and face them. Face it all.

***

I do not, in fact, get up tomorrow. Or the next day. According to the group of people huddled around my bed whispering incredibly rudely, I have been in my cocoon for three days.

Well, not continuously.

I've left it to go to the bathroom. And pick at the food Seldon has been leaving, like a little mouse stealing crumbs in the night. He has come the past couple of days, fussing and tutting while he tidied the room. Today he is joined by them .

All of them.

Edith is crouched next to me, her crazed violet eyes sad as she pokes and prods in my head. I can feel her there, but have no energy to push her out. Or even the magic to do so.

Let her look, it's just a swirling black mass anyway.

My brother, Tor, sits on the bed, his face tight with concern, and I don't think he realises he is actually sitting on my foot. He's heavy, and he's squashing the ball of my foot, but I don't move it. The pressure feels nice.

His bonded mate, Caelan stands by his side, leaning against him, and I can see him rubbing Tor's shoulder. Comforting him. I'm glad they have each other. Tor deserves that kind of love and happiness.

Seff is behind me. I can feel the heat of him, even through the layers. When they invaded my room, he'd dive bombed the bed with his giant body, almost crushing me in my tight nest. He'd caught himself just before he'd done any actual damage, and now his big body is pressed against me, his heavy arm over my body like a weighted blanket.

And, finally, Roan. I can see him, just out the corner of my eye, half obscured by the quilt I have refused to take off my head. Roan hangs back silently by the corner of the bed opposite me, his arms crossed across his chest, making the sleeves of his white shirt bulge and protest, his chin angled down while he frowns intensely at me.

I think I've made him mad.

"What's going on, Theo?" Tor pats my calf through the mound of blankets. I can't really feel it, but he does realise he's on my foot and shifts so he's no longer crushing it. I don't flinch though, just blink at him once and continue staring off into the room. Because I don't know how to answer the question. I don't know what's going on. I'm just… hollow.

"I don't get it, he was okay on the way home? I thought he was, well, not okay, but you know…" Seff whispers, like he isn't right next to my ear. He quickly realises his mistake, and his arm tightens around my middle in a quick hug.

There is a grunt from somewhere off to the side, and I know it's Roan doing that weird grumpy thing he does. I just keep ignoring them. Edith reaches out and strokes my face with one milky white, bony hand, her vibrant red lips twisting into a sad smile.

"Sometimes these things can be delayed. Like shock. The high of being rescued probably got him home, and now he's here…" There is another voice, I can't hear what they say but I recognise it from his time fussing in my room, talking to himself, talking to me.

Seldon is in here too. Great, everyone's here for the intervention. Amazing.

"We shouldn't have left him alone that first night." Somewhere in the deep dark depths of my pity party the guilt in Tor's voice pierces something inside me. But it's still not enough to make me haul myself out of my bed. Instead, my body seems to sink further into the soft mattress.

It really is a nice mattress.

I can see Caelan rubbing Tor's shoulder, and he leans down to press a kiss to my brother's head, before he crouches down so he is eye level with me. His green eyes are filled with concern, just like everyone else's. But there is something else, less like pity. More like understanding.

"Theo, I don't know what you're going through, but I'd like to understand," his voice is deep and rumbly. I try to hold his eye contact but my tears make my vision all fuzzy. Caelan's mouth tries to smile, but it is more like a straight line, his lips turning in on themselves. "We're here for you. If you want to come back to the farm with us, you can."

There is a sharp intake of breath, almost a growl, from somewhere in the room. Then a cough.

I don't want to go to the farm though. Tor and Caelan deserve their privacy. Their chance to figure stuff out, without me weighing them down. And, even though I'm not acting like it right now , I meant what I said when Caelan made the offer a few days ago on our trek home. I want to do things on my own.

"We have clothes for you," Seldon pipes up again. "They are old as fuck, and definitely not my style anymore. I knew I'd kept them for a reason. Anyway, I brought some that you can borrow until you get yourself sorted." He waves at the pile of jeans, tee shirts and sweaters stacked on one of the dining chairs.

My nod is barely imperceptible, but he must notice because he winks his bright yellow eyes at me in that breezy way he has.

Shameful gratitude burns my throat like acid. He really didn't have to do that, I mean, I hadn't spoken a word to Seldon in all the times he'd come into my room. I hadn't even acknowledged his existence, just ignored him like a sparkling, pretty bird flitting around my room.

Like a tidal wave, the caring and niceness in the room crashes over me, wiping me out. The tears fall from my eyes, and I can't stop them. Instead, I close my eyes and try to block everyone out. Maybe I can force myself back to sleep.

Not that sleep has been a good thing. Strange nightmares of Marieth and the Woods have somehow combined with my old life. Which is odd, because I hadn't thought about Darius in the whole time I had been captured. Or since I was rescued. And that is just more kindling for the raging dumpster fire that is my mind right now.

Despite what my brother assumes, I am not a virgin. Darius was my, well, not my boyfriend. But he was more than just the guy that I blew after tutoring sessions.

Darius was, well, it doesn't matter what it was.

That whatever had been between us was over had been made abundantly clear during an extremely embarrassing- and more than a little heartbreaking- fight before I'd returned to my parents' estate and subsequent kidnapping.

Now he was joining the party in my nightmares, because my subconscious can't help but rub salt in the wounds.

Gods, they are still here.

I can hear them murmuring around me. Why won't they just go ? They are so loud, and I just want to rest. Through the thick cushioning of the quilt, I can feel Seff tracing the pattern of the cover over my shoulder. It's helping to lull me further into sleep.

Slipping deeper into my dozing state, I hear Tor and Caelan whisper arguing about returning to their farm, but I miss the end as I fade into the blackness and the comfort of its misery.