His knock arrives around an hour later. When I open the door, my eyes widen as I take him in. He’s showered, my next inhale full of his clean autumn scent, but he’s wearing somethingotherthan all black. A navy blue tunic is pulled taut across his chest, hugging his biceps and the muscles that are expertly carved there. His trousers are form-fitting and dark brown, tucked into black boots that rise up to his calf. And his hair—gods, his hair. Short wavy pieces hang over his forehead and ears, the cut a bit longer than when we first met. I want to run my hand through it, to breathe him in and hold him close and remind him—remind myself—that he is the reason my heart beats. The only reason I have left now.
“You look absolutely beautiful,” he says hoarsely.
I tuck my unbound hair behind my ears as I glance down at the outfit I chose. A maroon skirt flows down to my ankles with silver-threaded daisies embroidered in a waterfall pattern all around it. I paired it with a cap-sleeved cream blouse, the hem showing a sliver of skin on my stomach.
“You will need shoes,” he says, gesturing towards my bare feet.
“Right,” I answer, heading towards the closet. My attention immediately snags on the sparkly pair of sandals, a silver ribbon lacing through black loops that crisscross over the top. Without thinking, I grab them, only to realize halfway across the room that I have no idea how to tie them. My steps falter as I stare at them in my hand.
“May I?” Nox asks as he steps into the room.
It’s strange to watch someone you have shared so much of yourself with act as if they are afraid of you. Or afraidforyou. I’m not sure which one bothers me more.
At my nod, he kneels before me, the heat of his body a familiar comfort. The air around us thickens, and goosebumps break out over my skin, but I focus on lifting my foot and sliding it into the sandal. His touch is gentle—wary—and when he finishes, he stands and gestures towards the door.
“Ready?” he asks, waiting again for another silent nod. He leads me not towards the staircase he went to earlier, the one we took to get up to this level, but in the opposite direction, back towards his room. “This is a secret passageway.”
My eyes widen as I stumble slightly, my feet still not used to wearing shoes of any kind. Nox stops in front of a section of the wall, the stone there unassuming. He lays his hand over a stone that has more gray striation than the others surrounding it and pushes. The wall lets out a slow cracking sound before it swings in and cool air rushes out.
“It’s pretty dim, and there aren’t any flame gems or spelled flames,” he says, extending his hand out for mine.
I slide my hand into his, my inhale sharp when a jolt of something passes between us. Nox’s gaze flicks down to where we are touching and back up again, his arm now covered with goosebumps. He chooses not to comment, so I don’t either.
A tight, narrow spiral staircase made of stone winds down into the darkness, no open center like there was in the tower. My gaze travels over the square shapes of the rock that make up the walls as my pulse begins to quicken.
This place is different.
The temperature is cooler, and the scent of damp air is thick in my nostrils. Shadows are cast from the light of the hallway and down over the steps, making them look a darker gray—like the place that had held me. That had nearly killed me. I had escaped the tower, and it had costeverything. I had been handed freedom, but only after I had paid a price that made it feel worthless. I had fallen in love, only to be thrown against a wall of uncertainty. And as my vision blurs and tears trail down my cheeks, I feel the weight of it all come crashing down on me.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his soft voice distorted through the ringing in my ears. “Rhea?”
“I can’t—” I say with a gasp, unsure of how to verbalize what I feel. Unsure of everything. I step backwards, my chest heaving as I drop his hand and dig my fingers into my hair.
He searches my face, his eyes widening when recognition strikes. “Fuck, Rhea. I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
“It’s okay.”
“No,no, it’s not. I wanted to show you one of my favorite spots, a place where you could go and not worry about being bothered by anyone, but this is the only way to get there. I just didn’t think about how similar it looks to the tower.” He drags his hands over his face, remorse settling heavily in the corners of his mouth. “Tell me what to do. How can I fix this?”
Wasn’t that the biggest question of all? A sob steals my breath as I take tentative steps towards him, my hands leaving my hair to wrap around his torso slowly. I don’t have the words to tell him what I need, but he understands all the same. Withouthesitation, his arms band around me as I bury my face against his chest.
“I’m sorry, Rhea. I’m so sorry.” He repeats the words as a murmur against my temple, never faltering even when I dig my nails into his back. Even when my cries echo in the hallway and I need his help standing, he holds firm.
Just like he promised to do when I lost Bella, he holds my pieces together because I’m too weak to do it myself.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Rhea
I wake with astart, sweat beading over my temples and drenching the back of my neck at the nightmare. Alexi and Bella’s deaths replayed in my mind, only this time twisted into something somehow more horrific.
Dragging my hands down my face, I force the burning in my eyes to stay there. Would it always be this way? Would every thought of her—of Alexi—always feel like a wound made anew? Maybe it is better to try andnotthink of them, but that gaping sensation of loss always rears its head when I least expect it to.Asleep or awake, it doesn’t seem to matter. Grief is like trying to fight an invisible enemy. There’s no way to prepare for it—no lessening of the savage way it further pulls me apart. It’s a scar ripped open over and over again.
I turn over onto my side and blow out a breath. Nox and I had decided to call it an early night after the staircase incident with the goal of talking in the morning. I don’t know if I’m ready to see where that conversation will take us, if I’ll end tomorrow even more alone than I feel tonight.
My fingers drag along a skirt the color of twilight. I pick it up and hold it to my body, its flowing fabric—not quite cotton but something softer and more gauzy—drifting down to my knees. I look through the tops, settling on one that matches the fabric of the skirt with buttons that go down the back and sleeves that hang off the shoulders.
After dressing, brushing my teeth, and combing through my hair, I wash my face with cold water, hoping to brighten up the dullness that has taken over my complexion. My hand grips the edge of the counter as I stare at myself in the mirror, little light flares glinting off the glittering gray stone in front of me.
I had wished for a life outside the confinement of a different, colder gray rock. In every fantasy scenario of how I could live if I ever became free, they were always so simplistic. Being free meant being happy; I didn’t know how to dream more intricately than that. It wasn’t until I was trudging through the forest in bloodstained boots with Nox at my side and a cloud of sadness still blanketing me that I realized that changing my surroundings didn’t change who I was.That it isn’t quite as easy as justleavingand suddenly feeling complete and whole.
