My life was empty, eyes vacant. Everything was cast in a grey pallor, as if all the color and life of the world was drained the day she was taken. I no longer felt the heat of the fireplace or the cool rain as it hit my skin. The winter wind’s bite was missing completely, food like ash on my tongue.
More than once, I’d thought about ending my wretched life.
Years of enslavement, torture, and rape. Years of enduring unspeakable traumas. Yet it all paled in comparison to the physical hole where my heart should be.
Itanya was my everything—my light in the dark, my reason for living. The whole reason to attempt to heal and turn away from vengeance.
She was light; a beacon of hope representing what Torin and I had worked so hard for—the promise that Elyria would be safe for the next generation.
But how could I make those things a reality when I couldn’t even protect my own child?
Despair ate at every inch of my soul, my muscles and tendons weak from lack of use and attention.
I wandered these halls like a specter in the night. The only thing that kept me clinging to this miserable existence was the small kernel of hope that she was still alive, that she could come home to me.
But with every passing day, that small flame dwindled until it was almost completely gone.
Once that flame went out, what was left of me?
The voices undulated, rising to a level that broke through even my fugue state.
Sluggishly, as if moving through the waters of the bogs in Reeria, I turned to face the speakers. I vaguely recognized Talamh, apparently the Prince of Deucena. That came as a shock to many, but, like everything else in my life, it was simply another fact. Something else that didn’t concern me or Itanya.
Behind him, though, was a face that Ididrecognize, a familiarity that could bring me to my knees if I let it.
Torin d’Eshu was back at last, triumph written in every tanned line of his face. Men patted his back roughly, shaking his hand as they jovially proclaimed him a ‘hero.’
It was like watching someone else’s happiness in a mirror.
I knew, deep down, that I should be celebrating whatever this victory was, that I should be sitting with Torin to plan what came next, but I was frozen. Unable to move past the debilitating sadness of missing my daughter—the one piece of my soul that was good and undamaged.
Torin said something, Talamh nodding curtly before the rest of the men filtered from the room. Torin’s eyes met mine then, an understanding passing between us, as his honeyed orbs flickered with something close to pity.
I felt wretched and dirty. I didn’t deserve his pity or sympathy.
Ilost my daughter. I left her with someone who couldn’t protect her, and I failed her.
“Fo,” Torin’s soft voice filtered in through the water that held me hostage. I stared straight ahead, unblinking. “Fo, we’re going to have a council meeting here. Would you like to attend, or should I walk you back to your rooms?”
He spoke to me like I was an invalid, like I was of feeble mind, unaware of my surroundings.
Iknewmy surroundings; I just didn’t want to be a part of them.
I should be responding to this situation with rage and vengeance but something about the fear I felt when the Bondsmith told me my daughter was missing broke me.
Now, I was just sad. Sad and frozen.
“Stay,” I mumbled, unable to even muster the ability to speak in a full sentence.
Torin gave me a small smile before sinking into the chair next to mine. His hand never left my thigh, drawing soft patterns there, though I felt none of it.
A few others trickled in, and I vaguely registered that the Bondsmith was here along with Lex and Peytor. The Bondsmith couldn’t even meet my gaze—thecoward that she was—while Lex and Peytor looked much cozier than normal. Their hands kept brushing, covert looks saying more than words ever could, slicing between them.
A thick emotion akin to jealousy mixed with despair bubbled in my veins, settling somewhere in my chest, magnifying the hopelessness I felt.
Not only had I lost my daughter, but now Lex and Peytor were casting me aside as well, choosing instead to find pleasure in each other.
Can I really blame them?
