Chapter Five
My room wasn’t lit the way it had used to be. The curtains weren’t thrown open, and the windows were solidly closed. Candles lit the area, and my blankets smothered my clammy skin as I lay there, looking at the ceiling. Breathing came from next to my head, but no one was in the bed with me. When I finally mustered enough will to move my numb limbs, I turned my head to see that Aloriel had fallen asleep, her head supported by her arm as she leaned her face against it. Damien watched from a corner, but said nothing as I locked eyes with him. Medic charms glowed and incense burned from various points in the room, several very close to where I was laying.
The queasy sensation in my stomach had not yet faded, but my energy seemed to have returned piece by piece. How long I had been asleep was the greater question. I felt as if no time had passed since I had fallen into the depths of my memories, but then again, Aloriel looked as if she hadn’t slept for days. Damien’s eyes, too, were dark from where he stood. I sat up, and then touched Aloriel’s head.
She woke slowly, looking around first before realizing once more where she was, and who had woken her. “Oh thank the gods!” Aloriel exclaimed as she threw her arms around me. Clearing his throat, Damien stepped forward. “Be gentle with her,” his voice was low, and for being friends with her, it was surprising. I tried to speak out against him, but my throat was dry, and my voice only came out as a croak before I closed it again and tears welled up in my eyes.
“Oh, Princess,” Aloriel’s voice was shocked. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t know what to say. I never let things like this bother me. But I had failed – I was back in my prison-like station, with the fine line to walk once more. Damien walked over and stood over me, and Aloriel moved away. “Why did you leave?” He demanded. I shook my head; I wasn’t going to answer that right now. His hand brushed my cheek and he knelt by me, his eyes concerned but his face relatively vacant. His warrior demeanor never failed him when other people were around – even Aloriel. We’d all been companions since the death of my parents. It had only been when the two of them had been assigned to me that our relationships had been solidified.
I leaned my face against the warmth of his hand, and Aloriel took her leave quietly. “Drink this,” he handed a skein of water to me, and I drank it so fast in stretched my throat. I coughed, and he took it from me. “How long have I been asleep?” I asked, my voice returning steadily to normal. He shook his head. “Four days,” his voice was sad. “Mira, why?”
I choked back a sob, and closed my eyes. “I needed to leave. I couldn’t put you at risk,” I spluttered. I was so angry at myself, internally, for failing – but now, even more so for losing control of my emotions in front of him. He leaned forward and held me, his warm arms one of the few traits of his nature as a Fire Fae. His eyes up close were amber, and his skin was always olive and tanned. “You know that I would die for you, Mira,” his voice was low. “Without fail.”
The words weren’t what I had wanted to hear. “That’s not what I want. I couldn’t live with myself if you died. I would die for you as well, but why must things be this way? Why?” Tears blurred my vision and I shook in his arms. His lips brushed my cheek, asking what was wrong. Clearly, I’d fallen into the realm of incoherence. I clenched my fist in his shirt, and then did what I’d been missing for days now. Our lips touched, his more eager than mine, and I fell back onto the bed as he released me, then pressed me harder against the bed. My body felt like it was on fire, and then it was a blur of motions. He was away from me, laying next to me on the bed, holding my hands, and I was looking into his eyes as he laughed at me. “Eager today, Princess?” He asked, mockingly.
I laughed genuinely. Though he had been the more forceful one, his humor had once again returned as he began blaming me for his own actions. I knew he wasn’t serious, but the fact that he had managed to pull away meant that he had gained a lot of self control since I had left. Feeling more energetic, I pulled the coves off of me and walked over to my clothing chest. The dresses within were the same as I had left them, and I picked a shimmering black one from the depths. My wings slipped right in the fitted slits, and when I was done dressing, I walked over to the long mirror I had hanging on a wall. Though the dress was still relatively plain, it was elegant, and fit the curves of my body like a loose glove. It was comfortable and cool against my skin, and the color fit my mournful mood.
“What now?” Damien asked, almost as melancholy as I was now, both of us realizing that I was trapped again with very few options other than following what my brother had ordered. The air in the room grew heavier, and I fell back onto the bed. Damien began playing with my long hair, his fingers gentle, braiding and un-braiding, his eyes unwavering from my own. When our lips met next, he didn’t pull away, instead, he seemed bent on trying to comfort me. I was glad that Aloriel had left. I had missed Damien so much, I had surprised myself by not turning back to the castle only a day after I had left.
His hands ran across the fabric of my dress, and it felt like we were melting together. I felt so warm, and so content. Deep in my mind I knew it wouldn’t last, so when I closed my eyes, and pushed him away again, I resigned myself to my fate. Damien groaned. “What can you do about it?” He asked, and I knew we’d been sharing the same thoughts. “I don’t know,” my voice was lower than a whisper. “I don’t even know if he know’s I’m back yet.”
“He doesn’t, as far as I know.” Damien took his turn for his voice to be low. “Nobody wants the risk of telling him. They all want you to be safe, Mira,” his voice was passionate, even through the quiet breaths it traveled on. His shirt had come off, and his toned muscles rippled under my cooler fingers. His amber eyes kept mine locked on them, and after a moment, he pulled me in tight against him, and then pulled the blankets over us. “You still look tired, Mira. You should sleep, Princess.” I didn’t want to argue, and I let my eyes close. He rubbed my back gently, and after a little while, he started to sing in a low voice. The song that I once heard my mother sing to me, and a song that I would occasionally sing when I was working.
****song*****
My mind drifted off, and I felt my breathing go deeper. His hands didn’t leave me, and our minds melded together. “Damien,” my voice echoed over our connection, and I heard his low laugh echo back. “Yes, Princess?” He asked in response, and I felt his warmth grow around me. I knew it was dangerous to think now, with our minds connected. I couldn’t stop him from seeing my memories now, and this simple thought brought on the memory flashes. The chains and the stone, and then the flashes of Aloriel’s injuries. “What happened?” He demanded, and I felt hot fingers grip my arms. “On our way we were captured by the faerie slave traders,” I kept my tone low, hoping he would loosen his grip. “I should never have left you out of my sight,” Damien growled, and did loosen his grip, only to pull me deeper into him. “We’re fine,” I reminded him. “You used your magic too much, Mira. That is why you are ill.”
I couldn’t argue with him, so I tried feigning sleep for a few minutes, but I could feel him probing my mind gently, and eventually I gave up on the matter. Pressing myself into his chest, I curled beneath the blankets and let him kiss me, and then hold me as his thoughts, too, wandered away from things. “I miss my parents.” My voice was flat, and his was too as he replied. “I do too.”
My thoughts traveled from my parents to my brother easily. “I don’t understand why he’s doing this,” I thought to Damien, because our link was still fully open. His arms grew tighter around me. “I don’t understand it either,” he whispered in my ear. His breath was so warm, and I blushed silently into my pillow.
“I suppose I’ll have to see him again at one point or another,” I sighed, a little louder. Fear and anger welled in me, and I felt a tear roll down my cheek. “I still think....” I muttered. My thoughts had gone further than I’d wanted them to, and Damien suddenly loosed his grip. “I don’t think he had anything to do with your parent’s death, Princess. Please stop thinking like that. He’s only taking advantage of the fact that they’re gone to do the things he’s doing.”
Sad again, I nodded, kissed him, and then got out of the bed. Walking to the window, I opened the curtains, and walked out onto a large circular balcony. The stone railing glowed in the early morning light. No wonder Aloriel had been asleep on my pillows – when I’d woken up, it surely had been before dawn had even risen.
The air was cold, and there was finally frost on the branches of the nearby plants. “Winter’s coming,” I sighed, and Damien walked out behind me, but didn’t come close. An icy breeze blew into me and my hair blew back behind me. My hair had always been surprisingly black, and in this light, it was managing to look purple.
“Princess Mira,” his voice was low, trying to comfort me. The tears, however, were already flowing. My fists clenched tight as sobs ripped from my chest. “What day is it?” I demanded, almost incoherently. Damien shook his head silently. I reached a hand to my own throat and tried to get the burning feeling out of it. Today was the anniversary of my mother and fathers deaths. One year apart, they’d left the world practically together.
My wings reflected the light, though I didn’t move from my spot until the sun had risen much higher into the sky. Damien stood, leaning against the railing for all that time, just watching me in silence. My sobs had quietly not long after starting, but the burning and tight feeling in my throat still lingered, and my hand stayed wrapped against it. When I stood, Damien followed me to the halls of the castle, where food was set for the royal family and the courtiers.
Fruit and meats laid out on the table made my stomach flip. Still tight with my own stress, it wasn’t eager to engage in the motions of eating. It wasn’t the food that I wanted, however. It was the boy king eating it.
“Nero.”
My room wasn’t lit the way it had used to be. The curtains weren’t thrown open, and the windows were solidly closed. Candles lit the area, and my blankets smothered my clammy skin as I lay there, looking at the ceiling. Breathing came from next to my head, but no one was in the bed with me. When I finally mustered enough will to move my numb limbs, I turned my head to see that Aloriel had fallen asleep, her head supported by her arm as she leaned her face against it. Damien watched from a corner, but said nothing as I locked eyes with him. Medic charms glowed and incense burned from various points in the room, several very close to where I was laying.
The queasy sensation in my stomach had not yet faded, but my energy seemed to have returned piece by piece. How long I had been asleep was the greater question. I felt as if no time had passed since I had fallen into the depths of my memories, but then again, Aloriel looked as if she hadn’t slept for days. Damien’s eyes, too, were dark from where he stood. I sat up, and then touched Aloriel’s head.
She woke slowly, looking around first before realizing once more where she was, and who had woken her. “Oh thank the gods!” Aloriel exclaimed as she threw her arms around me. Clearing his throat, Damien stepped forward. “Be gentle with her,” his voice was low, and for being friends with her, it was surprising. I tried to speak out against him, but my throat was dry, and my voice only came out as a croak before I closed it again and tears welled up in my eyes.
“Oh, Princess,” Aloriel’s voice was shocked. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t know what to say. I never let things like this bother me. But I had failed – I was back in my prison-like station, with the fine line to walk once more. Damien walked over and stood over me, and Aloriel moved away. “Why did you leave?” He demanded. I shook my head; I wasn’t going to answer that right now. His hand brushed my cheek and he knelt by me, his eyes concerned but his face relatively vacant. His warrior demeanor never failed him when other people were around – even Aloriel. We’d all been companions since the death of my parents. It had only been when the two of them had been assigned to me that our relationships had been solidified.
I leaned my face against the warmth of his hand, and Aloriel took her leave quietly. “Drink this,” he handed a skein of water to me, and I drank it so fast in stretched my throat. I coughed, and he took it from me. “How long have I been asleep?” I asked, my voice returning steadily to normal. He shook his head. “Four days,” his voice was sad. “Mira, why?”
I choked back a sob, and closed my eyes. “I needed to leave. I couldn’t put you at risk,” I spluttered. I was so angry at myself, internally, for failing – but now, even more so for losing control of my emotions in front of him. He leaned forward and held me, his warm arms one of the few traits of his nature as a Fire Fae. His eyes up close were amber, and his skin was always olive and tanned. “You know that I would die for you, Mira,” his voice was low. “Without fail.”
The words weren’t what I had wanted to hear. “That’s not what I want. I couldn’t live with myself if you died. I would die for you as well, but why must things be this way? Why?” Tears blurred my vision and I shook in his arms. His lips brushed my cheek, asking what was wrong. Clearly, I’d fallen into the realm of incoherence. I clenched my fist in his shirt, and then did what I’d been missing for days now. Our lips touched, his more eager than mine, and I fell back onto the bed as he released me, then pressed me harder against the bed. My body felt like it was on fire, and then it was a blur of motions. He was away from me, laying next to me on the bed, holding my hands, and I was looking into his eyes as he laughed at me. “Eager today, Princess?” He asked, mockingly.
I laughed genuinely. Though he had been the more forceful one, his humor had once again returned as he began blaming me for his own actions. I knew he wasn’t serious, but the fact that he had managed to pull away meant that he had gained a lot of self control since I had left. Feeling more energetic, I pulled the coves off of me and walked over to my clothing chest. The dresses within were the same as I had left them, and I picked a shimmering black one from the depths. My wings slipped right in the fitted slits, and when I was done dressing, I walked over to the long mirror I had hanging on a wall. Though the dress was still relatively plain, it was elegant, and fit the curves of my body like a loose glove. It was comfortable and cool against my skin, and the color fit my mournful mood.
“What now?” Damien asked, almost as melancholy as I was now, both of us realizing that I was trapped again with very few options other than following what my brother had ordered. The air in the room grew heavier, and I fell back onto the bed. Damien began playing with my long hair, his fingers gentle, braiding and un-braiding, his eyes unwavering from my own. When our lips met next, he didn’t pull away, instead, he seemed bent on trying to comfort me. I was glad that Aloriel had left. I had missed Damien so much, I had surprised myself by not turning back to the castle only a day after I had left.
His hands ran across the fabric of my dress, and it felt like we were melting together. I felt so warm, and so content. Deep in my mind I knew it wouldn’t last, so when I closed my eyes, and pushed him away again, I resigned myself to my fate. Damien groaned. “What can you do about it?” He asked, and I knew we’d been sharing the same thoughts. “I don’t know,” my voice was lower than a whisper. “I don’t even know if he know’s I’m back yet.”
“He doesn’t, as far as I know.” Damien took his turn for his voice to be low. “Nobody wants the risk of telling him. They all want you to be safe, Mira,” his voice was passionate, even through the quiet breaths it traveled on. His shirt had come off, and his toned muscles rippled under my cooler fingers. His amber eyes kept mine locked on them, and after a moment, he pulled me in tight against him, and then pulled the blankets over us. “You still look tired, Mira. You should sleep, Princess.” I didn’t want to argue, and I let my eyes close. He rubbed my back gently, and after a little while, he started to sing in a low voice. The song that I once heard my mother sing to me, and a song that I would occasionally sing when I was working.
****song*****
My mind drifted off, and I felt my breathing go deeper. His hands didn’t leave me, and our minds melded together. “Damien,” my voice echoed over our connection, and I heard his low laugh echo back. “Yes, Princess?” He asked in response, and I felt his warmth grow around me. I knew it was dangerous to think now, with our minds connected. I couldn’t stop him from seeing my memories now, and this simple thought brought on the memory flashes. The chains and the stone, and then the flashes of Aloriel’s injuries. “What happened?” He demanded, and I felt hot fingers grip my arms. “On our way we were captured by the faerie slave traders,” I kept my tone low, hoping he would loosen his grip. “I should never have left you out of my sight,” Damien growled, and did loosen his grip, only to pull me deeper into him. “We’re fine,” I reminded him. “You used your magic too much, Mira. That is why you are ill.”
I couldn’t argue with him, so I tried feigning sleep for a few minutes, but I could feel him probing my mind gently, and eventually I gave up on the matter. Pressing myself into his chest, I curled beneath the blankets and let him kiss me, and then hold me as his thoughts, too, wandered away from things. “I miss my parents.” My voice was flat, and his was too as he replied. “I do too.”
My thoughts traveled from my parents to my brother easily. “I don’t understand why he’s doing this,” I thought to Damien, because our link was still fully open. His arms grew tighter around me. “I don’t understand it either,” he whispered in my ear. His breath was so warm, and I blushed silently into my pillow.
“I suppose I’ll have to see him again at one point or another,” I sighed, a little louder. Fear and anger welled in me, and I felt a tear roll down my cheek. “I still think....” I muttered. My thoughts had gone further than I’d wanted them to, and Damien suddenly loosed his grip. “I don’t think he had anything to do with your parent’s death, Princess. Please stop thinking like that. He’s only taking advantage of the fact that they’re gone to do the things he’s doing.”
Sad again, I nodded, kissed him, and then got out of the bed. Walking to the window, I opened the curtains, and walked out onto a large circular balcony. The stone railing glowed in the early morning light. No wonder Aloriel had been asleep on my pillows – when I’d woken up, it surely had been before dawn had even risen.
The air was cold, and there was finally frost on the branches of the nearby plants. “Winter’s coming,” I sighed, and Damien walked out behind me, but didn’t come close. An icy breeze blew into me and my hair blew back behind me. My hair had always been surprisingly black, and in this light, it was managing to look purple.
“Princess Mira,” his voice was low, trying to comfort me. The tears, however, were already flowing. My fists clenched tight as sobs ripped from my chest. “What day is it?” I demanded, almost incoherently. Damien shook his head silently. I reached a hand to my own throat and tried to get the burning feeling out of it. Today was the anniversary of my mother and fathers deaths. One year apart, they’d left the world practically together.
My wings reflected the light, though I didn’t move from my spot until the sun had risen much higher into the sky. Damien stood, leaning against the railing for all that time, just watching me in silence. My sobs had quietly not long after starting, but the burning and tight feeling in my throat still lingered, and my hand stayed wrapped against it. When I stood, Damien followed me to the halls of the castle, where food was set for the royal family and the courtiers.
Fruit and meats laid out on the table made my stomach flip. Still tight with my own stress, it wasn’t eager to engage in the motions of eating. It wasn’t the food that I wanted, however. It was the boy king eating it.
“Nero.”
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