“Well, these things have a mind of their own. There’s no rhyme or reason to the way they form. They become whatever they want to be.”
That’s true, and nothing actually seems disturbed. There’s no crack or chips on the larger piece. The smaller ones surrounding it are perfectly intact as well.
I flinch out of my staring as Riven’s hand slides into mine.
“Got what we need.”
“Enough for all of us or just two?”
“All of us. There’re hundreds and as long as no one discovers this cave, hundreds more will keep forming and growing.”
“We should probably do something to make sure it’s not discovered.”
“Good idea. I’ll set a trap.”
The chaos in his voice makes me snort, but it’s not the realm’s worst idea, so I don’t comment. I’ll let him work out whatever trap he wants.
Neither of us speaks as he guides us through the cave. I haven’t got the first clue where we are or where we’re going. Fear that he doesn’t either continues to swell in my chest as his fingers grow tighter around mine.
“Riv—”
The rest of his name flows from my mouth as nothing more than a breath when he pins me to the wall. The cool surface sends a shiver through me that’s swiftly replaced with heat as his arms barricade me in.
“Tell me why you don’t like the dark.”
His low, commanding tone has my mouth drying out and lips parting. The tension that was surrounding him was obviously not coming from us being lost.
“Why?”
“I need to know.”
“So you can tease me? Make me feel even more embarrassed than I already am?”
“I won’t do that to you.”
“You’ve done it before.”
“Not about this. Never about anything you truly fear.”
Our chests rise and fall opposite one another as though we’re reliant on each other’s inhale and exhale. I don’t know why he’s asking this, why he so desperately wants to know, but I want to tell him.
I want to lay out the truth and not have him make a funny comment or brush me off.
“I’ve always been afraid of the dark. What triggered that fear in me, I’m not sure, I don’t remember but…”
I release a long exhale as he inhales sharply.
“It got worse last year. It was a fear Mellcom and Jeremiah were well aware of, and they began using it against me. If I did something wrong, said something I shouldn’t have, at night, they’d drag me to the arena. They’d tie me up in the center and stand in the dark corners where I couldn’t see them, then laugh as I begged them to let me go.
“Sometimes they’d do more, sometimes not. They wouldn’t release me afterward, though. They’d leave me there alone. The only source of light I’d have was the stars. I’d talk to them as though they’d respond. They never did. All I could hear was the sounds of wild animals and the leaves rustling in the wind, then eventually, just their laughter in my mind.”
The anger pouring off him is tangible. It seeps into my skin and fills me.
Strangely enough, though, it doesn’t pour into my pot of anger that’s always simmering, waiting to boil over.
My soul sings in appreciation that his anger is directed at someone doing me wrong.
Ever so slowly, his hand comes off the wall and he holds it over my heart as though he’s telling it to thrash harder for him.
