Misty
Cole rises, turns his chair to face the bed, and sits, his eyes holding mine. “I am still the king. The rest is out of my control.”
“Including using me as a breeder? It wasn't your decision, was it? You were being forced–”
“I’m doing what's necessary.” He has no plans to elaborate based on the look on his face.
“You hated it, though. You looked… disgusted by me.”
His steely, carefully crafted expression of neutrality cracks. “No–”
“But you were.”
“Misty, I wasn’t disgusted by you at all. The opposite.” His eyes glow with emotion. I’m sure if I knew him better, I’d be able to see the pain there, the regret. “I didn’t know you were a virgin and I was rough.”
“You coulda been rougher.” I arch a brow, and to my relief, the corner of his mouth ticks into a smile before it fades away again. He probably has a beautiful smile. He’s probably one of those guys whose laugh lights up a room. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s done either.
“That’s not funny.”
“You almost smiled.” I should keep pushing him just for the entertainment factor. Being a captive is dreadfully boring.
“That wasn’t a smile.”
“I’m pretty sure it was.”
“You need rest,” he says, cutting me off, ending this line of conversation. He stands and turns, giving me a glimpse of his back. Blood creeps through the fabric of his shirt again.
“It looks like it hurts,” I say, leaning forward and knitting my fingers together to stop the impulse to touch him. That’s when I notice I’m no longer wearing the manacles. I lift my wrists to eye level in shock. “You took them off?”
“You got out of them somehow,” he corrects, pulling a fresh shirt from his dresser. He turns to face me, hesitating with the shirt in his hands.
Instead of blasting him with my light, which is what my brain is begging me to do, I sweep my legs under me, kneeling in the bed. I ignore the fact I’m wearing one of his shirts and not much else. That’s a conversation for another time.
“Can I see your back?”
He chews his lower lip, holding my gaze. “I don’t want you to waste your powers. You're still weak. You should conserve them for yourself.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste. Whatever it is, it really bothers you. It bleeds all the time, doesn’t it?”
He tosses the fresh shirt on the bed and pulls his shirt over his head with a resigned sigh. I give his body a thorough, somewhat greedy once over. I can’t help it. He’s a very good-looking guy. If we were in any other situation, I’d allow him to hit on me, maybe even ask me out. I’d even consider saying yes.
I remind myself that this man is possibly a father-killing, princess abducting, madman, but it doesn’t stick the same way it used to. Right now, he’s just Cole, and when he turns around, sitting on the edge of his bed with his back straight, perfectly still, I stifle a gasp of alarm.
“Oh, my Goddess.” I can’t breathe. My entire body shudders as I scootch toward him, my eyes wide in horror.
Horrifically deep, infected lacerations pepper nearly every inch of his back. His skin is red and mottled, furiously inflamed. It’s ugly and terrible. The marks are… symbols. Words, maybe, in a different language. Whirls and jagged, roping interconnecting images.
Tears roll down my cheeks. I ignore them, edging forward, not daring to touch him. I’m correct. It’s symbols carved into his back.
“What the fuck?” I manage to gasp, my throat closing in on itself. “Who did this to you?”
“Who do you think?”
“Fucking Richard?! Why? Why would you let him do this?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” He arches away the second my fingertips brush the single piece of unbroken skin between his shoulder blades.
“What is it?” I’m desperate. I can feel his pain like it’s my own. A burning, sharp ache through my back that pinches and curls as I move closer until my knees settle on either side of his hips.
“A curse.”
The floor could have dropped from beneath the bed, and I wouldn’t have noticed.
“I’m going to heal you, okay?” My voice shakes as fresh tendrils of blood spill from the wounds.
“You can’t.”
“I can.”
He shakes his head, his body going slack with defeat, but I’m determined, angry, and fucking over this nightmare. I’m not sure how he’s still alive, let alone functioning. How did he shift with his back like this?
“Please lie down,” I rush out, moving away to give him room. He doesn’t move. “Cole, please. Let me try.”
He sits there in silence for several minutes, all while I hold my breath and pray, before moving toward me and lying in the center of the bed, turning his head as he places it on one of the pillows. He wraps his arm around the pillow, his eyes focused on the far wall.
I can’t fail, can I? When Aviva was hurt, I’d come to Maatua to help my Grandma patch her up. My healing powers are stronger than Kenna and Sydney combined, but against a curse?
Where do I even begin?
“You should talk to me while I do this.” I straddle his hips, sitting on top of him. It's an odd position, but I need to work fast once I start. “It’ll distract you.”
“What do you want to know?”
I could ask him about why he’s doing all of this–working with the order. Get the details I need.
But I don’t ask those questions. Instead, I ask, laying my hands flat over the injuries, “You had an older brother?”
He winces as faint light pours from the palms of my heads. “Yeah. I’m the middle child.”
“You have a younger sibling?”
“My sister, Annabel.” He sucks in a breath as I move my hands up. Tears slide from my cheeks and fall onto his skin, sizzling into the lacerations. “She’s your age. Twenty.” He grits his teeth. He’s in pain. I’m sitting on him and practically roasting him like a chicken with my powers, but if he could live with these wounds, he can live through this.
“I had no idea you had a sister.”
“You wouldn’t have. My father kept us out of the public eye until I was old enough for him to announce me as his heir.” His voice is laced with pain, but my powers are doing something, at least. The gnarled, jagged lacerations start to smooth out, the infection fading.
“Why?”
“It was my mom’s idea. She–She was a maid when they met. They were mates, but Tarsian was still under the yoke of King Kane’s influence. Kane was forcing Alphas on this side of the river between here and the Roguelands to marry for breeding and alliances to better his kingdom. Dad kept her hidden, refused to marry Kane’s choice for him, and had the three of us. I grew up in one of the villages surrounding Oasia instead of in the capital.”
His voice starts to lose the undercurrent of pain as I continue to work. I’m shocked at my progress. The wounds stop bleeding, and the infection goes away completely… but that’s it. The symbols somewhat knit together but leave horrible, painful scars. The curse is still there. I can feel it through my powers. It’s deep enough that I can't reach it. I worry the scars will reopen. In fact, I can already tell they will.
This curse is meant to spread.
“Where’s your sister now?”
“She’s with my mom in Crescent falls, in hiding.”
I still my movements on his back. “Crescent Falls?”
“I can't tell you exactly where.”
“I understand.” I swallow back the onslaught of questions plaguing my mind. “How long have they been in hiding?”
“Almost two years.”
“What?” My heart lurches. “Why?”
“The same reason your family hid you. To keep you away from someone who wanted to use you, like Gabriel.”
My brows knit. Gabriel? How does he factor into this? “What?”
He turns his head to look at me over his shoulder. “Who do you think gave Gabriel his special blade? Who do you think funded him, gave him the tools he needed to try to overthrow your family?”
“The order?”
He nods, laying his head back down.
“He was part of the order?”
“It’s complicated,” he says, his eyes growing heavy. I can feel his muscles relaxing as I smooth out the wounds along his shoulder blades.
“Why did Richard want your mom and sister?”
“He wanted to use them as a reason to get my father to join him. Gabriel and his coven had been defeated by then, and Richard was falling out of my dad’s favor, so he started making threats. Dad sent them away when he realized Richard had been involved with the Draven coven but couldn’t banish him from court at that point; he had his talons in everyone. None of us realized how long we’d be apart, but… he didn’t have a choice. In the end, I guess it didn’t matter.”
I lick my lips, my powers nearly drained and my tears already drying, but I keep working, watching his wounds knit together under my touch.
“What happened to your dad?”
Cole’s quiet for several moments. I start to think he’s asleep, but his eyes are still open, and his expression is shadowed–dark. “The Order of Arcane Umbra didn’t used to be what it is now,” he begins, taking a deep breath as I heal the last of the symbols. “It was a fraternity, honestly. It’s been around for centuries, aligning Alphas, creating a brotherhood that tightened kingdom bonds…. Dad was part of it, so I was, too. I joined as a freshman.”
I work on his back from the beginning, doing all of the work over again for good measure.
He continues, “The Umbra Mortis is a position held until death. The last Umbra Mortis died, and Richard came in as the new leader. I’d already graduated from TU and was in Crescent Falls by then, far enough away I didn’t learn about what was happening until Dad sent my mom and sister to me, telling me I needed to return. He was… ill.”
“He was like you. Cursed?”
He nods, wincing when my powers drift over a stubborn laceration. “He downplayed what was happening. Only his inner circle–his head commander and his Beta–knew what was happening, and by the time I came home, it was far too late.”
“How did he get cursed to begin with?”
“He let Richard into his ranks. Richard had big ideas about modernizing Tarsian–like agreeing to the road system that would link us to the Roguelands. When Dad started pulling away, he threatened our family. I think by then Richard had already found the Book of Whispers.”
My heart stops. “He has the Book of Whispers?”
My powers die out, leaving me feeling empty. I don’t think Cole’s noticed, though, because he says sleepily, “He’s responsible for what happened in the Deadlands this summer. It was a test.”
“He’s going to build an army?” My blood runs cold.
“He already has.”
“He’s going to try to take over Eastonia, isn’t he?”
Cole swallows hard, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Your family has to stay out of Tarsian, no matter what.”
“They’re going to come for me,” I argue.
“I made it very clear,” he breathes, “that I’d kill you if they stepped foot over the border.”
“Would you?” My mouth goes dry.
“I would kill you if it meant Richard couldn’t use you like he wanted to. Doing to you what he did to me.”
“You told him you wanted me as a breeder–”
“Because it was the only way I could keep him away from you.”
He’s been playing Richard this whole time. Pretending to be on the same team. Saying he wanted to use me to add my family’s power into his bloodline when really he needed a reason to keep me close and away from the order.
“It wasn’t your idea to attack the campus.”
“I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop them from taking you. This was the only option I had.”
“Why does he want me?”
“For the power you used to take off your manacles last night. You can unlock anything, just like your dad.”
I blink at him, shocked. Can I really? I look down at my hands, curling them into fists.
“You can open the Gate of the Gods for him.” He meets my eyes for the last time before he closes them again.
My heart quakes as I slide off him. He doesn’t notice. He’s asleep–falling into a total stupor. I watch his face for several seconds, lost in thought, before I let my gaze roam to his back. It looks so much better than before. Mostly healed but heavily scarred. I did my best. He probably hasn’t been able to sleep in… what could be months.
I have more questions than answers, but I know one thing for sure–we’re fucked. Wholly, utterly fucked. If Richard has an army of cursed wolves waiting in the wings, the Book of Whispers, and the Gate of the Gods at his disposal, we are doomed.
So, I do what anyone in my situation would do–completely disassociate until the person who can answer my questions wakes up again.
I sit in his chair. I grab his notebook. I click his pen. I scribble the same notes he’d been taking on me only an hour ago, my hand shaking so badly I can’t read my own handwriting.
My family could help him out of this.
Cole is taking the brunt of Richard's violence to try to save his own kingdom, isn’t he? Trying to unravel the order from the inside out before it’s too late?
He saved me, didn’t he? This whole time, he’s been trying to save me?
Why would he even bother?
I lay the notebook down on the bed beside Cole and listen to Declan and Georgia flirt outside the door late into the night, until I fall asleep face down, my arm draped over Cole’s back.