How many have you saved?
Warriors did both, didn’t they? Killed an enemy. Saved a crown. A crown makes a king, but it embodies the kingdom, those who cannot fight and need others to save them.
Soldiers resemble clouds. They evoke a sense of security, but they also harbor lightning. They shade us, but blind us. Some are thunderous; others feather apart until they dissolve. They’re a contradiction; they kill so we can live.
Titus continues to perplex me. He moves his sword with such talent and gentleness, it feels like a breeze wiping away the sweat from my brow.
My vision blurs. “Was it quick like some of the tavern songs suggest, or did you really carve out my brother’s heart and hold it as it still beat?”
His knife slips for the first time, cutting my hip. “Fuck! I’m sorry!” His face pales with panic over the tiny cut.
Rapidly, I blink away the emotions and put my mask back on. “It’s hard to believe you killed my brother. I think you’d cry over killing a bird,” I retort. “It’s merely a cut. Galen’s thorns cut me deeper last night.”
“I do cry over the death of innocents,” he spits. “Maybe you should step out of the castle walls and witness it yourself, Queen Selene, or does the shadow from your fine-tipped fae ears stop you from seeing how people suffer?”
Deep, long breaths. That’s all it takes for Titus to realize I could have his tongue for his insults.
His sword shakes in his hands; then he grabs the back of his neck. Sweat beads on his brow like morning dew.
What is wrong with him?
He drops the sword on my bed, steps back, and rubs his eyes. “I can’t… you can. For him, you will,” he whispers to himself. He hugs his hands to his chest, like they're a weapon.
My fingers claw the sheets. I try to drag the blade closer to me, but shit! It’s too far to grasp.
“Are you ill from the effects of war? Do you have voices in your head?”I soften my tone.
He shakes his hands out. I expect to see his fire magic. All I see in his eyes is fear, as though something beyond his control is emerging from his fingertips. He scans the room as if he senses something I don’t.
I’ve seen soldiers afflicted with this madness. If I can’t talk him out of his visions, he might truly see me as the enemy.
If Galen cared, he wouldn’t celebrate his men’s return with a feast; he’d offer them compassionate ears and helpful hands. He’d offer them a place to dream. Being wild and angry is sometimes necessary; other times, we need a blank wall, a plain mattress, and a thick blanket. We need something rather than ignorance.
Sometimes, I feel like we lose more soldiers from the madness after the war than from the battle itself.
“You’re not on the battlefield,” I declare.
Why did I ask him about my brother? It triggered him. “You are here in my room. Observe your surroundings. You’re not there, Titus. Titus, are you listening to me? Breathe in. That’s it. Notice the scent. You’re here, not there.”
His chest sinks. “I know where I am.” Violent eyes pin me down. “I wish I weren’t here… I… fuck it.” He comes closer and glares at me with a rage far greater than Galen has ever possessed. “I wish it were me! I didn’t lie when I told you killing Everett was an accident. It was! And I wish he had killed me!”
My heart skips a beat. I lose another tear.
“It was a reaction! No, I didn’t carve out his heart; how dare you compare me to a beast of the night! I’m a soldier; I did as I was ordered, but I still feel and react.”He pounds his chest as if his heart had died the day my brother did. He’s desperate to revive it. “I’d do anything to turn back time.”
His lungs heave with an untold pain that has my ribs clenching.
“Time, Queen Selene.” He grabs his sword, no longer moving gently, as he hacks away the vines holding me down. One by one, he slices and tosses them away in a fit of rage.
I’m free, but I’m too bewildered to move.
Titus moves around my room, grabbing vines and pouring his fire magic into them. The stone walls only allow the fire to spread so far.
He’s… so broken; filled with agony that, I dare say, matches mine.
Stomp! Stomp!Someone’s coming.
Titus and I look towards my door. His temper fizzles out. He sweeps his hand, extinguishing the flames, leaving charred vines scattered across my floor.
