Surprise penetrates my hysteria when I bring my hands up to claw at the arm around my neck and I realize that I still have the dagger in my grip. I twist the blade and then slam it as hard as I can into whoever is trying to kill me. A pain filled roar rents the air all around me, and I shove the blade into someone up to the hilt. The pressure on my windpipe decreases slightly, and I claw with both hands at the meaty arm around my neck and gasp for air.
“Pigeon!” I scream for all I’m worth. “Pigeon, please, I need you!”
Nothing.
Frustration and worry burn through me, but I don’t have time to focus on that. I need to get away! I snarl and scramble and do everything I can to free myself, but it’s no use. The shock of my stabbing has worn off, and the arm around my neck tightens. I can’t get enough oxygen into my lungs again, and terror is overriding every sensible thought in my head.
I don’t want to die!
“Looks like our little flower here is just full of surprises,” Blue Eyes says, and Ryn grunts behind me. “Ease up, Commander, I think you’re hurting her,” Blue Eyes warns when I stop making a gurgling whimper and go silent.
“I’m just putting her to sleep. It’ll be easier to get her, and us, back to Kestrel in one piece if she’s out,” Ryn offers, and I put everything I’ve got into one last effort to break his hold.
I can’t be taken to Kestrel City. I need to get out of here and back home! I reach up with one hand to try and gouge out an eyeball, but I can’t find his eyes. I reach back with my other arm and search for the dagger I stabbed him with. I almost get my fingers around it when a large hand grabs mine. Blue eyes fill my darkening vision, and I can feel tears dripping down my cheeks.
“It’s okay, flower. Just rest. No one is going to hurt you,” he reassures me, his eyes soft and his tone gentle.
I glare at him and mentally cuss him out. No one is going to hurt me? Fuck him. Tell that to the arm around my neck that’s slowly choking me out. My body gives one last jerking protest, and then everything starts to go black.
Motherfucker.
“Awlon, is this really the only way?” my mother asks, her voice and eyes filled with devastation.
I’m groggy as I try to look around. What is happening? I’m so tired. The room is cloaked in night, and I can’t figure out why my parents are waking me up.
“I wish it weren’t the way either, Noor, but it has to be done. They give her away, and we can’t afford that.” Dad runs his hands through his black hair. His face is strained, and he looks completely stricken. “I can’t understand how she has them. They don’t normally show up this early. I thought we’d have until puberty, but we don’t,” he declares, his tone haunted.
“Can’t we just keep them covered?” mom asks.
“Long sleeves aren’t going to hide them forever, Noor. Her eyes and hair are already an issue, and we haven’t been able to track down another cladding stone. What would you have me do, Noor? Tell me another way, and I’ll do it.”
My dad’s voice is desperate as he pleads with my mother, and I can just make out through the haze that’s coating my brain that my mom and dad are hugging. I try to move, but I’m stiff and clammy. All I can remember is hurting and then waking up to my parents fighting. I whimper, and my mother shushes me and rests her palm on my forehead.
“It’s okay, Falon, we’re here. It’ll all be over soon,” she reassures me, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. “Just do it, Awlon, before she comes to even more. I just hope she forgives us one day.”
My mom is crying, but I can’t grasp anything that’s happening around me. It’s like I’m surrounded by wispy thoughts and people, and I can’t hold on to anyone or anything long enough to help me understand.
“Mommy,” I mumble, scared, and she pulls me into her lap and starts to rock me.
She starts to sing my favorite bedtime song, and her clear soothing voice instantly calms me. I relax into her arms, the beat of her heart against my ear and her song lulling me back to sleep. And then there’s pain. So much pain. Pain and screaming and then...blackness.
I shake my head to clear it of the overwhelming phantom pain. My heart hammers in my chest as I struggle to pull oxygen into my lungs. I try to focus on the dream-memories, to try and understand what they mean, but the details start to slip through my fingers like warm desert sand.
What the fuck was that?
I press back against cool smooth stone. I lift my head and survey my surroundings. I’m shrouded in shadows in the corner of what used to be my room in the cliff castle.
How the hell did I get here?
My lavender gaze runs over the lines of Zeph’s massive muscled body. He’s sitting on the corner of the large bed, bent over something in his hands.
Shit. Did Ryn bring me here? Is Zeph going to make good on his promise to kill me if he ever sees me again?
I hold my breath, not sure what to do or say. Zeph silently strokes the fabric he holds in his hands with his thumbs, and I realize after staring at him for a moment that he’s holding the dress I wore the night we hooked up. It’s torn and tattered—which is to be expected after what happened that night—but I’m taken aback by the fabric’s presence and the reverent touch that Zeph is administering to it. I haven’t given any thought to where that dress went, and I can’t understand why Zeph would have it.
It’s almost like he’s mourning, and that makes no fucking sense to me.
I jump, startled, when Zeph releases an angry roar. The peace in the room is shattered by the terrible sound, and Zeph shreds the soft fabric in his hands and throws it across the room. He rises off the bed and then turns and upends it. The frame and mattress crash against the pillars that separate the room from the balcony, and the wood of the bed splinters and goes flying.
He roars again, like the sound alone will purge whatever it is that’s haunting him, and he rips the headboard apart like it’s made of popsicle sticks. I watch the tantrum from the corner, baffled by what could have set it off. I’m simultaneously judging this display of pain and anger while feeling drawn to comfort him and make it stop. He shreds the soft yellow case on the pillow and then throws it. The pillow hits the wall a foot from my head, and I jump again.
The movement has Zeph’s eyes snapping to mine in the corner. He breathes hard from the epic shit fit he’s in the middle of throwing, and his honey-hued gaze takes me in warily. I don’t move or speak. We both just stand there like statues.
“Are you here?” he asks me, disbelief bleeding through his tone.
He takes a step toward me and then pauses as if he’s suddenly unsure. I open my mouth to say something when I feel a sharp tug in my abdomen. I gasp at the unusual sensation and look down, expecting a hook or something to be sticking out of me. There’s nothing there. I place my hands on my stomach as another strange tug pulls at my insides. It’s not painful so much as uncomfortable, but I have no idea what the hell is going on.
I look up, my worried wide eyes landing back on Zeph’s golden uncertain stare. And then just like that, I’m yanked out of the room, like a fish on a hook, by some unseen force.
I wake up, the sound of Zeph screaming my name still ringing in my ears. I slowly blink away the grogginess and roll from my side to my back. The clanking of chains echoes off the dark stone walls, and I look down to see that my feet are shackled. I release a groan and try to take in my dimly lit surroundings.