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“Yes. You’d go to sleep, then it was my turn. He never could get us to turn completely, but it didn’t stop him from trying. We heal faster when I’m in control, our magic is stronger. It fascinated him and for the most part, he just forced me to try harder, to push our magic’s limits. Then, when his curiosity was gone, he’d get to work forcing us to change.”
The scars, the letters I etched into my thigh while laying on the stone altar inside the white room... They were tangible and irrefutable proof of what had been happening to me in the time I’d been missing. The king claimed I’d simply fallen asleep, but these fragmented memories would resurface days, weeks, or months later, but they didn’t make sense.
Carving those letters had been one of those memories–those puzzle pieces I couldn’t place. Seeing those scars was how I’dknown those fragments were real and not something I’d made up. Hallucinations and nightmares couldn’t physically harm me, but those scars were there and I could remember carving them. Yet, I couldn’t remember deciding to do it or why I had.
“You’re the one who carved them…” I realize, sinking back down, lifting the hem of my nightgown to see the scars.
“You needed to know you weren’t losing your mind. And I knew you’d know what it meant.”
Lotus. It’s a single word, but I did. I knew the moment I saw it.
It’s from a tale about a king who discovers a new land, but while exploring it, they ate the lotus fruit. It made them forget their desires, their families, their need to return home. It was symbolic of how my father made me forget his promises, his vows to free me from that dungeon. And year after year, I’d fall for his lies all over again.
“Does that mean you know what we are?”
“No… Unfortunately, the king never said.”
My heart weighs heavy in my chest, but before I can voice another question, a soft knock sounds at the door. Loric appears in the crack, holding his cloak as he slides my boot out of the way. His silvery gaze briefly sweeps over me before he looks away. "You left this. Thought you might need it, with your dress drying."
“Um, yes, thank you.” I stand, crossing the room, my bare feet padding against the stone floor.
He swallows thickly, holding the velvet fabric out as far as he can. “Do you need anything else?”
I shake my head, draping the warm velvet over my shoulders and tying it around my neck.
His brow arches inquisitively as he lifts his head, peering at me from beneath long, dark lashes. “But you’re still awake.” There’s a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"Just trouble sleeping.”
"I could help," he offers, then quickly adds, "if you want."
“You mean, do I want you to breathe on me again? I need to sleep, not go into a coma, but I appreciate the offer.”
His mouth ticks up slightly at one corner. “I’ll leave you to it then. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
“You’re not going to sleep?”
“No. Someone has to stay up and everyone else is tired, so I’m taking the first shift.” He starts to shut the door, and I hold up a hand, as if I could catch it. He notices, stopping mid-swing, his hand still resting on the knob.
“Would you, um…” I scratch the back of my neck. “Would you want some company?”
“No.” He says it so quickly, I jolt in surprise, and before I can even begin to think into it, the door of the room clicks shut and my heart plummets.
No…I rush for the door, grappling with the handle. My lungs seize, refusing to breathe as if the air in this room is toxic.Please don’t be locked. Please… Please don’t be–The handle turns and the door swishes open. Eyes closed, I drag in a deep breath, trying to settle my racing heart.
When I open them, Loric stands mere inches from the door, his gaze meeting mine. “You thought I'd lock you in.” It’s not a question, but a statement. His head tilts slightly, but he makes no effort to move.
"I wasn't sure what to expect."
“You should get some sleep. One of us should.”
I nod, leaving the door slightly cracked, and return to bed. Pulling the quilt over me, still wrapped in his cloak, I stare at the rocky ceiling counting the shadows, until sleep finally claims me. And for the first time I can remember, there are no nightmares. I dream. It’s not empty darkness, it’s not the white room… Idream.
Chapter 16
Calamity
My father moves with a ghostly silence, his silhouette a dark shape against the scaled walls of the white room. It’s darker than usual, as if only one of the mage lights are burning, the amber glow coming from the table he’s working at. I lie bound to the cold stone altar, the leather straps so tight I fear they may draw blood. Blinking hard, I pray for this to be a nightmare, but when I open my eyes, it remains.
