Rhael always had a way of making my knees weak. Even when I knew nothing would ever come of it. That I was just some foolish human girl with a want for a man I should never have.
“Well, what else would you like me to say?” I sighed, waving my hands in the air as I looked around wondering why I had even bothered coming to him.
Clearly I was a masochist, desperate for him to punish me. I had wanted to prove either one of the feelings inside me right, that he didn't think I meant anything, or that I had more control than I let myself believe. Except he was too cold, too distant to ever get a real answer.
“Don’t be smart with me, it doesn't suit you.” He snapped, and I paused tilting my head back as he approached so that I could maintain eye contact. My jaw set as I refused to back down.
“Yet you are the one standing here beating a dummy to death as if it will fix anything.” I murmured, my voice low and steady, trying to ignore the smell of sweat and blood that clung to his skin. His wings twitched behind him, casting jagged shadows across the ground.
“You should go back inside,” he warned as he looked me up and down. His eyes lingering on the dress Penny had spent hours pushing me into.
“No, you don't get to send me away every time you lose control,” I told him as my eyes flicked to the sword buried in the ground.
I knew it was still within arm’s reach, that at any moment he could grab it and show me how insignificant I really was, that my defiance had finally gone too far. Although, something deep inside me knew that would never be an option. The Fae King was many things, but a murderer without mercy he was not.
“You don't know what you are asking for,” he whispered, his eyes lingering over my face, my lips. The way he looked at me in that moment I wanted to melt, to give in and promise him anything he wanted. Instead, I shifted my gaze, finding something else to focus on.
“I do. I want the truth.” I said, keeping my voice flat and even despite my heart threatening to burst straight through my chest.
“You want the truth?” He sneered, his mouth turning twisted and cold.
“Yes, tell me about why this bothers you so much,” I demand my hands flail at my sides in exasperation. I was tired, tired of games, of being taunted by freedom just to have it snatched away.
“Careful Elara.” He warned, his cold tone lingering only made me bolder. Wanting me to push the boundaries, force him to finally admit that he wasn't as fucking dense as he had made out to be. The need for truth hummed in my veins, reminding me of what I had fought so hard against.
“Or what? You will send me to my room. Tie me up in metal chains until you decide I'm needed again.” I laughed, the sound, a cold, clear, challenge. I was tired, frustrated, but most of all I was irritated at myself for believing I had any business being outside in the cold summer air just trying to get him to talk to me.
“You want me to bare myself, you go first.” He snapped, pulling away from me, turning on his heel and sitting on the ground so he looked up at me. A devious look on his face, a response to my challenge.
“What?” I questioned looking at him, raising one eyebrow. Hating the smirk that lingered on his mouth, that lip ring once again being pulled between his teeth.
“Your scar, you wear it like it is a badge of honour. If you want my grief, you give me yours.” He explained, choosing to lean back on his hands as if he was enjoying seeing me so uncomfortable.
“That isn't fair,” I warned, my eyes turned cold. The careless way he looked at me, as if he wanted me to bare my soul to him when he had given me nothing in return.
“Isn’t that the whole point Elara, that none of this is fair?” He offered, his chest rising and falling as he watched me, his head tilting to the side. As if curious whether I would give in.
With a huff of air, I sat down next to him. Folding my legs beneath me, not caring about my dress being sat directly on the dirty floor. Penny could clean it. If the Fae King wanted to hear everything I would tell him and hope he felt fucking guilty for it.
“Fine, I was twenty. I had been sold to a family who taught slaves to be ready for noble service. They wanted obedience, gratitude for the beatings they gave, praise for the men whose hands lingered too long. I refused.” I began, bringing my knees up to my chest as I remembered how it had felt.
“I had still been new to the world of a slave, and my attitude had been the same, only part of me had wanted to be liked. I had wanted them to like me, to treat me as though I was one of their own. But I learnt quickly that it was not true.” I began, bile rising in my throat as I tried to force the words.
“I could still remember how desperately I had tried to please them, without losing myself. I had tried to befriend the younger members of the household I served. Part of me young and foolish enough to believe that if they liked me it would be enough to keep me safe despite my bad attitude. Yet itwasn't, nothing had ever been enough. I would never be enough.”
“That does not surprise me,” he muttered and I turned to face him. A scowl forming on my lips telling him to stay silent. I watched as Rhael held his hands up in surrender letting me continue.
“They tied me to a garden post outside. In front of the other slaves. Said it would teach them what came from defiance. So, they heated a poker until it glowed. Asked me to say please before they pressed it into my skin.” I continued taking deep breaths in between each word.
“The pain made me pass out and when I woke up, the bastard demanded I thank him. Told me if I cried they would do it again lower. That my master would all be too happy to burn in between my thighs, unless I did as I was told.” I explained, my voice becoming more distant with every word that left my mouth.
My hands trembled as I tried to hold them still. My eyes kept focused on a single strand of grass trying not to cry.
“Elara,” he whispered, reaching out his hand to touch my arm. I let him without pulling away his hand warm against my arm. The small, lost, girl inside of me wanted to curl into his chest, to cry and sob until I was hoarse or ran out of tears.
The only reason I didn’t was the look that now lingered in his eyes. His face was carved with something raw and terrible, as if he finally saw me as the same broken thing everyone else saw. I hated it. I wasn't weak, I had spent yearsproving their actions couldn't break me, and the last person I wanted to treat me differently was Rhael.
“They don't get to own me anymore, and you don't get to look at me as though I deserve pity." I told him, shifting further away, rolling out my shoulders as I straightened my back.
