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Not long after, I fake a yawn with a mumbled apology to Aiden for my sudden exhaustion. It seems letting him speak and feel as if I chose him does the trick, as he brushes me off by saying no worries and that he has to speak with his father, anyway.
When I return to my room, my back rests on the solid door when it closes as I let my eyes fall shut. Pretending to be fine is one of the fastest ways to exhaust myself. Forcing a smile to my lips that want to peel back and bare my teeth. Or to widen my eyes to make it look like I’m hanging onto every word when my eyelids want to narrow to the sharpest slits that hold nothing but hatred. To physically restrain every fiber in my body from acting out. To bite my tongue from words I want to spew. All while trying not to reach a breaking point with the whirlwind of thoughts screaming in my mind.
Letting out a long sigh, I push off the door and walk to the center of my room, sitting down on the floor and crossing my legs. This is where I’ve been growing my hold on the darkness while bringing light to the palm of my hand.
And that’s what I do. I stay sitting here and practice controlling the strength of my power until the sky bleeds with daylight again. At some point, though, my eyes must have grown heavy, because I wake to find myself curled up on the ground at the end of my bed.
This happens for the next three nights. My days consist of remaining cooped up in my room or secluding myself in the cave near the shore when I need fresh air. And occasionally, sparing a meal with Aiden, but only to keep this charade up. But every evening when I return to my room, I continue to better hone my control of my powers, preparing myself for the day I go against Whiro.
Each night has only solidified that joining forces with my friends is the right choice. Because it will also allow them to have a choice, and I know all too well how it feels to be told instead of asked. They deserve to know the dangers ahead and I can’t stand to see them try to help by going in blind. That will be a sure and quick death sentence.
Tonight, I do the same as every other night: fucking practice. But this time, I think I’ve got it as both light and dark balance in the palms of my hands. A hum that syncs to my pulse. It’s strange. In my life, I have seen more evil in the light—my body carrying the horrors of my past with me so I never forget. It was then that I had found a friend in the dark.
Now, the light swelling around my heart makes me feel closer to my mother. But the darkness—where I used to find comfort—I unconsciously began to hate. It was linked to my father and consumed me to the point of making me a shell of who I am. Empty and washed of any shred of good that existed inside myself. The worst part is that I kept wanting to feel more of the dark when I was lost to it. Desperate for a stronger dose of wickedness to feed into my immoral compass.
But no more. Never again will I fall prey to my father, and in order to fight the monster he is, I must unleash my own. To once and for all accept my darkness like a long-lost friend and welcome it home.
With that in mind, I practice all through the night. Not even a few hours of rest spring forth as sleep evades me. At some point in the night, I ended up sitting on the floor in front of the full-length mirror, watching the color of my eyes change with the more control I gain. With the darkness, my eyes bleed black. With the light, my eyes radiate white. And somehow, I found a way to bring the grey color of my irises back when I’m not using any power. But for the time being, I need to keep the mask of hell veiled over me.
No one can know.
Whiro can never learn I took the rein of his power and plan to use it against him. Someway, somehow.
From the lack of sleep, I can feel the weight of exhaustion pulling on my eyes. There is a war going on in my mind, refusing to quiet because, when my eyes try to close, my psyche shouts louder. A part of me is screaming at myself, demanding to tell Draven everything right this moment. To close the distance between us and give in. And the other part of me is telling me to wait until I have more of a plan. That I still have time before I set off the truth bomb that will explode his life.
I walk back and forth, pacing the polished floor that feels like it’s mocking me. So bright and cheery without a worry in the world.
I do that often the rest of the day. Staying hidden away in my room, I only leave to force myself to swallow down some morsels of food that I end up chucking up not long after. The persistent ache in my stomach and the unease that keeps swirling makes the room double. On shaky legs, I let my body fall on top of my bed, the slight bouncing makes me groan from the wave of nausea it creates.
Once it subsides, I focus to keep my body still, closing my eyes and taking long, drawn-out breaths. I feel the beat of my heart slow, the sound of the outside world quieting, and the muscles in my body rid themselves from the tension that holds them.
When my eyes peel open, I can’t see well. I blink a few times, trying to get my sight to adjust faster to the darkness smothering every corner of the room. Lifting my head an inch off the mattress, I look out the balcony window to find the sun has once again left, welcoming the moon to take its place as it glows majestically over the sea. Shimmers of light speckle over the quiet waves, while my body feels like it’s caught in a riptide as I struggle to push myself up.
In some books I’ve read, the fated mates struggled to be separated, affecting their bodies in different ways. But that was when the mates were fully bonded, and yet, I feel as if my bond to Draven is anything but normal. So, I have to wonder if it’s the distance I’ve forced upon me and Draven making me feel this way? Will fate punish us for not completing the bond? For fighting the stars’ selection of the other half of my soul?
I don’t even understand how one would complete a bond, though I’ve heard it mentioned. All of my books had a happily ever after, an ending I cherished because I knew I could never obtain such a thing. In these stories, they brushed over what took place during the official bonding, because it was a private moment.
And I’ve never read a story where the characters had to travel separately from their mate, because once they found out, that was it for them. Distance between them did not exist. Nothing else mattered except living each day with their mate.
Maybe I’m causing this suffering to myself. Overthinking and chasing the racing thoughts I can’t seem to catch. As I lean against my bedpost and look around me, I realize I truly am missing those who care about me. Before, I tried to fight my battles alone, yet they stood beside me no matter the danger.
My brain churns everything over, and knowing them, they won’t let me be. But this time, I can tell them, explain what happened. They don’t need to know the shame I feel for the innocent lives I’ve taken, which has rooted inside of me no matter how many times I try to scrub my hands clean. That’s my own misery I silently let myself drown in. Not sleeping helps to keep the visual memory of each kill away, but I will never be rid of what I did. My hands will never be clean of the lives I stole.
This time…it will be in all our favor to go into this together, stronger, and with a plan. To stay a step ahead of Whiro and beat him for his own gain. Because a queen can win the game, only with the help of her knight, rook, and bishop. As I once saw Draven as my knight, I know now, he was always the king I’m supposed to protect.
The clarity of it all is striking, along with the fight I’m losing against this bond straining between us. It physically hurts, and I can’t stay away from him anymore. I need him more than my next breath.
The moment realization hits, I grab the black cloak hanging in my closet. The hem brushes the back of my ankles while I toss the hood over my head. The tail end of my braid peeks out as it rests over my shoulder.
I pause a moment when my hand traces over the dagger hugging my thigh, knowing this will officially start a war that holds the future of the world. My fingertips dance over the blade as I get lost in thought, unsure of my fate.
I may find comfort in a sword. Safety. With how its balanced weight and silver-edged beauty molds perfectly in my hands. But I know life is just as sharp, declaring war. It can cut so deeply, forcing someone to live with the pain of a scar that haunts them. Or life can plunge past skin and bone, spilling every ounce of light until there is nothing left but emptiness gazing back. And yet, one still never knows what end of the sword they will fall on until it’s too late. So, I wonder, will it be the hilt or the blade for me?
Before I contemplate more on what awaits me, I tightly lace my boots with swift movements, and call my shadows to swarm around me. A sight to behold, and one that I hope the Dark Prince, my mate—or I should say, the one known as Shade—will appreciate.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Emma
