I stare at him, his face resolute. A profound sadness sweeps through me, and I try to push it away. I gave my life for Mikal’s—it had even been my idea.
Instead of lamenting my choice, I should be rejoicing that Mikal would live and be happy. Love is selfless—that’s what my mother had already said. She even proved it by dying to give birth to my brother.
Inside my room, I collapse onto my bed and lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The crystal in my chest continues to pulse and hum, reminding me of everything that's happened to me since I arrived in this ugly mountain.
Tears roll down my cheeks as I realize how alone I truly am. I lay there, grieving when something happens with the crystal. The humming and pulsing are growing stronger, almost like it's trying to communicate with me somehow. It’s as insistent as an ocean current, rolling me forward toward open waters.
I close my eyes and focus on the sensation, trying to tune out everything else. And then, I see it. A vision of Mikal, trapped in some prison, surrounded by giant guards.
My heart lurches in my chest as I watch him sleep. He looks about the same as when I last saw him—not hurt aside from light bruising. Something inside of me relaxes, and the vision fades.
I breathe out and close my eyes.Bargaining with the king was the right choice, I tell myself.
As I sink into the soft bed, the grime on my skin becomes itchy. There’s also a foreign moisture between my legs, one that makes my thighs slide together uncomfortably. I’m not escaping, so it’s time to wash. For my own comfort.
I glance over at the steaming bath in the corner and take a deep breath. It looks warm. So very warm. I push myself off the bed, feeling the ache in my muscles as I stand up.
There are no solutions to be had today. So, I strip off my clothes and sink into the hot water, sighing in relief as the tension in my body starts to ease. The crystal on my chest dims.
I close my eyes and let the warmth of the water surround me, trying to focus on the crystal and the vision it showed me. However, the image is gone, and there is a harmony in this small space. The crystals embedded in the sides of the tub glow to life, singing themselves. Maybe it's just my imagination, but every second spent in this water eases my pain.
There are bottles neatly lined up around the edge of the basin, next to a towel I hadn't noticed before. Reaching out to touch it, I feel the plush fibers cushion my fingers. It surprises me—I've never seen any fabric quite like it. Then, I start reaching for bottles. Opening each one to smell.
My brows furrow as I cannot identify a single scent. They are all sweet, floral even, but I don't know the flowers. I pour some of the shimmery slime into my palm and rub it in my hair. It lathers, and I start scrubbing until the grittiness on my scalp subsides.
After rinsing, I am spent. I don't know how I expected to run away this time because I am absolutely exhausted. The thought depresses me. Sinking further into the comfort, I fully submerge myself.
I hold myself under for a few seconds. And then a few more. Letting the pulsing rhythm of the water go deep into my soul.
Sometimes, I wish that love left a little bit more for me.
1 This is too much.
2 Blue asshole.
Chapter11
Sapphire
TEO
It is foolish to go to the window in the tunnel connecting our rooms, but sheagreed to be my wife.
Yes,she had breathed.
Almost eager. It was all for her brother, I knew that. It was hard to remember with her in my arms. Right now, my intention is to make sure that she keeps her word and does not escape or injure herself.
How was I supposed to know that she would finally decide to bathe?
I want to look away, but cannot tear my eyes away from her small form. She is so bruised under those clothes. Liana had told me she was covered in injuries, but the wise woman had not prepared me for the purple, black, and yellow on her lower back, accompanied by fresh wounds.
They are just beginning to knit themselves together, but the old scars that had not healed properly are still on full display. Rage and sadness boil inside of me as I watch her slowly lower into the tub.
She is a wounded goddess. One starved and tormented by mere mortals. I would be more than happy to be a terrible demonstration of divine power.
I lean in closer, trying to get a better look at her injuries. Her head tilts back, and for a moment, our eyes met. I freeze, expecting her to scream. Except, her gaze continues its path across the room undeterred.
Was she looking at the door connecting our rooms?