I don’t notice Xander leave.
He is betrothed to someone new.
My hand flies to my chest, my nails digging into the flesh as if I can claw it open and free my heart from where it’s trapped in this jagged cage.
“We have to climb the stairs now.” Eve speaks gently, her fingers flexing at my side as we begin our ascent. “It’s going to be okay.”
I want to tell her that nothing has been okay for a long, long while. That I doubt it will be ever again. Instead, the words die before they even make it up my throat.
“Lady Nele, what are you doing?”
It takes me a moment to find the source of the question, but when my eyes clash with his dark gray ones, everything snaps back into place. Reminding me who and what I am now. Betrothed to the king. Cut off from my magic. Nothing but a vessel to be filled and emptied whenever it is deemed appropriate by someone else. Nothing withouthim. Rhea Maxwell isgone,and has been for a while now.
Simon’s attention rests solely on me, his hands clasped behind his back. “What, dare I ask, is the meaning of this?”
I look down over myself, noting the grass stains on my lavender gown and the dirt lining the hem. Eve’s pale fingers drape over my side, right above the brand on my hip—as if she’s remembered it’s there and is trying to avoid it. Leaning into her body, I force my head back up, sorting through my thoughts until I’m able to verbalize something coherent. “I just finished healing a battalion.”
The king’s advisor cocks his head to the side, gaze then sliding to Eve. “And you think it’sappropriateto be seen in such a way with the castle help?”
“The lady was having trouble walking,” she responds, a slight tremble to her voice. “I am merely ensuring—”
“I don’t need assurances from a rat, nor do I prefer it.Iwill make sure Lady Nele makes it to her room safely, perhaps with a bit more of her dignity intact.”
“No.” The word is out before I can stop it, as if someone else has spoken it for me. And when Simon’s gaze narrows on Eve,I realize that it’s becauseshedid. Eve urges me forward, but Simon steps directly into our path.
“A warning, handmaiden, that the king punishes those who step out of line without remorse,” he snarls.
“I know,” she responds, her grip on my waist tightening as we move forward again. A white door with a golden rose creaks open and then we are in my sitting room, walking towards my bedroom. Air stirs and my body moves and all the while imagined scenarios of Nox flash through my mind.
He is betrothed to someone new.
I’m a bystander to it all, removed from everything but the desperate feeling of despair that rattles in my chest.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Eve asks tentatively from where she sits next to me on the bed. I blink, looking down at the silk pink fabric of my chemise, unaware I had even changed. I run my fingers over the fabric, the weight of my exhaustion heavy enough to round my shoulders. “You do not have to say a word, but, I have found, that sometimes holding our worries and fears in is far worse than speaking them out loud.”
She nudges my shoulder gently, and I lift my eyes to meet hers. “Do you believe in fate?”
Eve looks taken aback by the question for all of a few seconds before answering. “Yes and no. Do I believe that our life is laid out before us without choice? No. But do I think that there are outside forces that might guide us in a certain direction?” I turn to look at her, her shoulder lifting with a small shrug. “Sometimes. I’ve seen the magic of that happen—both when I followed that intuition and when I didn’t.” Her eyes fall to her lap, her brow creased in thought. “What do you believe?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But I do not think it is my fate to make it out of here alive.”
Her intake of breath is sharp before her hand wraps around both of mine. “Xander is working hard to figure out a way to release you. If anyone can do it, it’s him and his people. You are Rhea Maxwell. You have a home. You have friends who have become family, ones that love you. You have people waiting for your return.”
Every word she spoke is true, yet it does nothing to that aching pit inside of me. And how selfish is that? To know that even though there are people wanting me to return, if Nox isn’t one of them—if he trulyhasmoved on—then I don’t care.
Ashamed, I turn my gaze back to the night sky.The moon may have the stars, but at least I have you. What a fool I had been to think that phrase could ever be true.
Chapter Ninety-Three: Rhea
TheironyIfeelat having magic that I can’t control still isn’t lost on me. Day after day, I feel its presence as I heal thousands of the king’s army, yet I can’t use it to help myself or those around me. Where its warmth had once felt like a comfort, now it slips through my fingers, taking a little more of myself with it as it does.
Both Xander and Eve still try to help, the former still encouraging me to not give up hope while the latter spends her evenings in my company, despite the fact that I’m hardlypresent. So little of myself remains in this flesh and bone body. It is easier for me to pretend I’m not a monster if I let my mind wander, if I let myself feel nothing over my surroundings. But, despite my desire to be numb, Xander and Eve keep trying to break through to me, even though my existence only makes their lives harder.
So one night after Eve leaves another one-sided conversation with me, I gather enough of myself to try and form a plan. One that will benefit her now and hopefully Xander in the future. One that will solidify the knowledge within me thatthisversion of Rhea Maxwell is one that only a monster could love.
And so, here I sit facing King Dolian, tea set between us and his hazel eyes locked on my own. “I must admit, I’m not sure what to make of this,” he says, arms resting on the table.
I put my tea cup back down on the saucer, the noise it makes ringing out loudly in the small room. Despite Eve’s tutelage, I haven’t quite mastered the grace one is expected to have while consuming the beverage. “There is nothing to make of it. I simply asked to have tea with you.”
