23. Florencia

23

Florencia

L ocking up a god felt like a strange duty for a wife to perform.

Yet, here I was, gently placing my husband's wrists and ankles in the iron shackles. The largest of them was no longer broken, seemingly brand new. I inspected it, looking for the breaks I had witnessed myself, the one responsible for letting him free that night, for the scars on my chest.

"He replaced it." Elio's tone was void of emotion, as if mourning his brother's presence in front of me might be too difficult for him.

"Camazotz?" I regretted it the moment I asked; I already knew. "Why?"

"We all have our part to play, my dream." He lifted his head, his gaze meeting mine as I placed the final shackle around his neck. "In all of eternity, my brother never once failed his duty."

"Except for last night." I exhaled, feeling guilty.

"I do not blame him." He shook his head. "You are worth his pain."

Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn't respond. I didn't know how to. This was their everlasting story? Two brothers cursed to fight all eternity? One tasked with locking the other every night for the safety of the realm and humanity, the other tasked with a prophecy to heal it all?

The burden felt too heavy to carry, too painful to see come true.

Nothing had changed since we slept together, nothing that felt cosmically grand or magical in some way that assured me this was still the right choice. But maybe that wasn't how destiny worked. Maybe it wasn't some grand spectacle that let you know you were on the right path. Maybe it was just a feeling.

I squeezed my husband's chin between my fingers, moving up on the tips of my toes to place a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes brightened, something new we hadn't done yet. There was something so pure in that, so sweet, it made me forget the monster he'd become.

It was short-lived, his snarls growing from his chest, newfound panic spreading over his features. "Go, Florencia. To the tower."

"No." I took a step back, testing the strength of the chains.

His anger grew, his teeth with it as they doubled in size, sharpening to points. "Bar the door and open it for no one until it stops."

I shook my head. "No."

He lashed out, the chain pulling him back as he attempted to strain it. "Florencia!" he growled, but I took another step and then another until the backs of my legs hit the wooden bench in the center of the dungeon.

His attempt at speaking faded, turning into a cacophony of growls and roars. Every part of my body was trembling, legs shaking, fingers numb as I sat there, drenched in absolute fear as I watched my husband turn. His white feather wings began to disappear into his back, his shouts pained as his body distorted in the restraints.

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, my soul physically hurting at the sight of his agony. The breaking of his bones was loud, and he coughed violently as thick blood poured from his mouth. And then, he was gone, no longer my husband, no longer a king.

A god, maybe. A monster, certainly.

A nightmare.

His claws were terrifyingly large, each sharper than the next. Just the vision of them was enough to make my chest burn, the memory of them carving into me that night still fresh.

Elio's eyes were red now, thick white fur covering his entire body as he stood fully upright, still chained.

A massive, eight-foot-tall werewolf, teeth dripping venom as he snarled and bit the air.

I swallowed hard, realizing my own stupidity.

Frozen, paralyzed in fear, I was sitting bait if he somehow got loose. My legs would not work for me, and there was a good chance my brain would do nothing to help.

Yet, this night somehow was far better than the previous, and being here, watching him go through this, somehow made me feel closer than ever to him, made me feel like I understood the plight of this realm even if I wasn't fully sure what my place or task here was quite yet.

We'd figure it out. Together.

" Haxia."

It was Camazotz's voice that woke me, but this time, I knew certainly my mind was playing tricks on me. A wishful hope.

Elio hung from his shackles, either exhausted or asleep, though in his state, I wasn't sure defining it actually mattered. Watching his body transform that way was horrifying; enduring it must have been a million times worse.

I stood for the first time in hours, my body aching from soreness as I stretched, arching my back and extending my arms above me before running to my husband. One at a time, I removed his restraints—first the neck, then the legs and the arms, and when I unlocked the waist, he collapsed on me.

Dense, far too heavy for me to lift, a broken shell of a god remained in his stead. I brushed sweat-drenched locks of hair from his forehead, somehow finding the strength to pull him over my lap.

I couldn't carry him, but I could stay with him until he felt better.

Sitting there, I stroked my fingers through his hair until his tired grumbles turned into coherent speech.

"I'm here," I whispered softly.

"Flo?"

His eyes grew wide in recognition, me being there, holding him, doing more to him than either of us expected.

Doing more to me than I could have predicted.

Despite how brutal the change seemed from an outside perspective, Elio quickly recovered, returning to his usual temperament with little sign of ongoing pain or emotional anguish.

I suggested eating, but the god had a taste for only one thing now, and it lived between my legs.

Whether in the atrium, the tower, the dining hall, the bed, the staircase, or even the dungeon, it didn't matter. He'd have me there, whenever, however he saw fit.

And I would not complain.

My mind drifted to the dungeon shackles, wondering how it would feel to be the one on the opposite end of them, having all my control taken away while he could do anything and everything he–

"My queen, I want to show you something." Elio broke me from my fantasy, dragging me to a part of the castle I hadn't yet seen.

A long hall opened into a bathing chamber, hot steam lingering above the water that filled the impossibly large room. It was reminiscent of some sort of Roman bath house, the water a crystal-clear blue.

He was no longer using his energy to maintain any illusions, so this room was entirely real.

I groaned the minute my toe felt the heat of the water, pulling every layer of clothing off my body and throwing it somewhere behind me. I followed each step down the pool, every sore muscle in my body melting as I sank deeper.

This was heaven.

He was there, behind me in an instant, the hard muscles of his chest pressed to my back as his hands pulled me closer to him. We hummed in unison, and I closed my eyes, relaxing into his hold.

We stayed that way until the first bead of sweat formed at my temple. This was an intimacy, a closeness I hadn't achieved with many others before, not when my brain could so easily ruin it for me with intrusive thoughts.

Wondering if I smelled or if my hair was scratchy, or maybe that I was the one holding him to me and forcing him to do this when he had no intention. Then came the next level, the thoughts that ate the smaller ones, planting ideas like maybe you only like him because it's the next best thing to Camazotz .

Did I really feel this way? Or was it just another lie my brain told me?

A tear slipped past my defenses, sliding down my cheek.

Elio and Zotz were not the same. They looked the same, despite obvious differences created from consequences , but they were not the same.

Caring for one did not mean caring for the other. In fact, it would be easier to say that caring for one meant being unable to care for the other.

Yet, I found myself in his arms, falling in love again.

Could a broken heart love just as deeply the second time around?

Would I ever stop hurting and yearning for Camazotz?

I wanted to voice all these things to him, to explain them, and just as I turned to face him, the palm of my hand caught the edge of the stone pool. The rough lip was slightly broken, the sting only spreading through my hand once the blue of the pool had become stained with my blood.

"Ahh!" I sucked in air through my teeth, gripping my palm to apply pressure.

"What is it?" Elio asked, but before I could answer, his nose was in the air, animalistic as he took three or four short sniffs.

The blue in his eyes turned red the way watercolor filled paper.

"Elio?" Every sound became muted, nothing but my hammering pulse between my ears.

"Get to the forest, Florencia. Find my brother if you want to live," he whispered the last words I'd ever hear.