Maybe I’m misremembering, and Crawford or his cronies sliced me open with a blade.
Silence falls between us, thick and heavy like snow from a blizzard. Freezing both of us in place. Until he asks quietly, “Are…are you in a lot of pain?”
I nod, too proud to put the truth in a single word. I shouldn’t be so vulnerable with the man who employs me. What if he decides I can never return to his ranks? Whether it be based on guilt this happened to me, or the possibility it affects my expertise?
“I’m so sorry…” He slowly edges around the bed to the side I’m on and stops a few steps away and offers his hand. “Will you let me make it up to you?”
Meeting his eyes, I tilt my head to the side as I slowly rest my hand in his. “Yes?”
He gently shifts the blankets off my legs. Luckily, it’s not a sight to frighten him. The stitches and gnarled skin, bruised purple and black, is hidden under layers of bandages. Gritting my teeth, I slowly rise off the bed, pain screaming in my abdomen and leg as I set my feet on the ground and push up. He must see my pain, because he quickly steps closer to brace me. Strong hands framing my waist.
When I look up at him, he blinks. “I-I’m sorry. I should have asked to touch you first.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. My stubbornness to stand on my own since the incident quickly shaking away to nothing.
“Can you walk?” He steps back farther, sliding his hands from my waist to underneath my forearms to support me.
I try and take a step toward him. The pain doubles me over, and he steadies me before I can fall. “No,” I grunt out through the agony ripping through me.
“Can I carry you instead?”
When I nod breathlessly, he gently scoops me into his arms.
“Better?” he asks, face ever so close to mine.
“Yes,” I breathe, heart skipping a beat at the proximity. Of his hand cradling me to his chest, the other underneath my legs.
Clearing his throat, he walks me to the door, then out and down the hallway. Past the dining room, the throne room, then out into the courtyard.
A soft summer breeze picks up, lifting his hair and mine. A claw mark of a moon hangs in the sky alongside a spill of stars. We pass the spot Ifound him many moons ago, sitting by himself while small glowing orbs floated around him. Then we get further into the courtyard.
When he stops at a wall of rosebushes, he looks down at me. “This may hurt a little bit. Just close your eyes, and remember you put your trust in me.” Then he walks into the rose bushes.
I hiss when a thorn catches my foot, ripping open a small cut. Another catches my hair, attempting to keep me back. But he pushes through. A stone wall stretches out in front of us, and rather than stopping or turning around, he just inhales deeply.
And pushes through it.
Within a blink, the gardens and castle are gone. Instead, we’re in darkness. Rolling all out around us are hills dotted with blue farther than the eye can see. Mountains out beyond that circling us in dark shadows. As I glance down, I realize the dots of blue are those belonging to flowers.
To blue roses.
I look up to search his expression. “Where have you taken me?”
“Somewhere you must never speak of to anyone else.” He turns down to look at me. “You’ve admitted you trust me. But can I trust you?”
I nod. Then he’s walking us down a hill, down to a cluster of shadows. The blue roses seem to sway out of his step as we get closer to our destination. As we draw near, I realize the shadows belong to a thick section of forest. The leaves drown out the sky above, and Cyrus picks and weaves through bushes, roots, and rocks. A soft blue glow rises from the distance, splitting through the darkness.
We get through the last line of trees to where the light pulses the brightest. Carved into the ground is something of a blue river. Glowing, pulsing, and brilliant. It’s luminosity floating up into the air like a reverse snowfall and disappearing into the darkness. As he gets closer to the water’s edge, he stops. Then lowers me gently to sit on the ground. Once I’m sat, he kneels beside me and begins to unlace his boots.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, feeling as if I’m too loud it’ll be sacrilegious to such a beautiful place.
“I don’t wish to be crude, Marcella.” His words are but a murmur in the soft gurgling of the river. “But I must ask you to take off your clothes. I’ll even close my eyes.”
He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t glance. Removing his boots, pants, coat, shirt—everything. Despite not giving him permission to look at me, Ican’t keep my eyes from wandering to him. To the elegant carve of his body, skin glowing in the luminescence of the river. He takes a step into the water, its glowing edge slipping over his foot. Rather than the white foam of water collecting around him, it’s something else entirely. Something like the shimmer of stars, or speckles of glitter from a diamond.
Another step in and he pauses, head straight as he holds a hand back out to me. “Whenever you’re ready, come take my hand.”
It makes it easy, that I’m only wearing a nightgown. Simple to slip off. But as I try to stand, with only the bandages covering my abdomen and thigh, I struggle. Pain rears its ugly head and knocks me back down on the ground until I’m out of breath.
