Page 44 of A Requiem of Fire and Ice

No matter.

Black strands of hair twist into a bun as I glare at the mirror outside the toilet. Cold water then splashes over my face to cool the heat and remove the smears of ash that stained me when it rained down while I was at the castle. When I wash my arms, a woman enters the bathroom, eyes me, and says, “You too.”

I laugh at the ash covering her hair and arms. We chat for a minute. She goes into the toilet, and I leave for the entrance to Ebon Hall.

My focus drifts to elemny with suitcases as they leave Ebon Hall. I step behind them, daringly close to the group until it looks like I am with them and go through the exit doors. Security guards eye us, but their focus doesn’t linger.

A man stands on the deck, and I scan my phone across the tablet he provides to confirm my booking.

While on the ship, I head down the hallway until I find the room Nancy booked. Inside, I lock the door, rummage around the kitchenette until I find a lighter, and then head to the bathroom. I dump the evidence in the tub, light it on fire, and control it by twisting the tap so the flames don’t get too out of hand. When they’re blackened ash, it washes down the drain, and I scrub it clean.

Then I shower and let the icy water remove the remnants of King Ragan touching me. Sickness plagues me in the shower, and I lean down to throw up all that has happened to me. My shoulders tremble at the recurring thought of those fire elemny and Xavier touching me in places no one should ever be touched without consent. Pain shudders along my waist when those thoughts enter my mind.

The smell of sex makes me want to puke until there’s nothing left in my stomach to throw up.

Disgusting, putrid vermin—the lot of them. I hate them! I hate them all because they are the reason for the constant nightmares that plague my dreams. It seeps in, and every time my eyes close, I’m on that office desk, and that fire elemny’s hand filled with fire grabs my waist until I cry out in agony.

Water drips when I turn off the shower. I step out, ignoring the mirror, and move into the living area with a towel wrapped around my body. Sitting on the bed, I turn on the television. Every news station stands outside the castle, and helicopters fly overhead. Boats, ships, and minivans swarm in all directions, wondering what’s happening inside the castle. Hundreds of guards flock to the walls and gates of the castle like an iron fortress, threatening anyone who gets too close.

No one outside the castle knows what happened. They speculate, but all speculation revolves around Queen Ji-Sun and why fire fills her room. Apart from everyone knowing Prince Reen is the only fire elemny with black fire, they don’t speak of death…yet.

A bubble of laughter bursts out of my mouth, and I collapse on the bed. I forgot about the tether. Through the hunger of his death, I killed an innocent bystander. Someone who didn’t deserve it, but she’s gone, too.

The laughter chokes in my lungs, and tears slip down my cheeks at the thought of killing someone who died who shouldn’t have died. It’s hard to balance the two as my excitement soars at his death, but there’s a loss over Queen Ji-Sun’s death. Guilt would not be piercing me if she were equally horrible.

But it was for a good cause, right? Aside from my revenge, killing one innocent saves thousands from torment for another thirty to forty years. It fucking sucks that she’s dead, but as much as I needed this, everyone in Eraminia needed this, too.

The phone rings, bringing me out of my funk. I answer, and Nancy says, “Get rid of your phone. They can trace it if your boyfriend gets sent in for questioning.”

Thick smoke oozes into the room as I open the window and toss the phone out into the grey, sloshing water. Fake memories, forced conversations, and contact numbers I never cared about sweep away into the vast, open sea. It sinks into the depths of darkness where no one can recover them. I should have switched it off beforehand; maybe if I cared about anything on the phone, I would have held it long enough to think about it. But I couldn’t care less.

The friends I had at Oceanview Harbour were nothing but a ruse that I needed to look meek, cute, and a normal, unawakened elemny. Xavier was a ticket I needed to gain access to the Kingdom of Flesh. Without him, King Ragan would still be breathing, and the revenge I dreamt of would still be a desire out of my grasp.

Yawning, the exhaustion of today sweeps over me. I scramble onto the bed, slump against the pillows, and feel my body sagging into the mattress.

No boyfriend is pinning me to the bed, unbuckling the buttons on his jeans and forcing sex on me. No daydreams of me killing King Ragan repeatedly because they aren’t daydreams anymore. They are real.

Soon enough, the trauma of my sister locking the entryway to Elden Keep will fade, and the bitter, haunting memories of those fire elemny will burn like ash and wisp away in the wind.

Today, I will finally sleep peacefully without revenge clinging to my mind.

I close my eyes, and a slight smile plays on my skin until the searing heat ripples along my waist, and the trauma of pain plagues me once more.

I guess those nightmares don’t go away that fast.

Chapter 21

Reen Kyong, July 9th

I crouch before the throne steps and eye the faded red of his eyes and the dribble slipping from the corner of his mouth. I glance at his lips, noticing the lipstick stains across the corners and the dense scent of perfume lingering on his silken clothes.

My focus moves away from the stains and to the presentable hole in King Ragan’s head. Another wound grazes his right neck, and red hair sticks to the injury, caked with blood. It oozes down, soaking into his clothes until the King, who claims he is flesh and crimson, is nothing more than what he set out to be.

My focus trails to where the culprit likely stood, and my gaze narrows with suspicion before I rise and turn to Alad. He marks the spot where the second bullet exited his head.

Then I turn towards the five sex workers off to the side, wearing thin, lacy robes and leather materials that hardly cover their breasts and tight, crotchless panties. A heavy scent of King Ragan comes from them, and it’s hard to mask the lingering stench of stale sex.

I turn away from them and lean down to examine King Ragan again when the Throne Room doors open with a panicked, resounding shudder as they hit the walls. My frown deepens at the sound of his choking, horrific gasps, and he stumbles like a fool coming toward me.