Page 169 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
The sprawling gardens have been decorated for the occasion with giant silk lanterns painted as brightly colored skulls, endless candles of various sizes, and vibrant flowers in shades of orange, yellow, pink, and red. A long dining table large enough to seat fifty people is being set with an old porcelain set, ancient and worn but it screams of wealth and quality.
Behind the head of the table—where Alec will sit—is an altar.
The altar is made of a large mirror in a carved ebony frame. It seems to emit a strange energy, like a portal into another world. The smooth surface is riddled with dark spots, oxidized with age. A group of servants is delicately unrolling a bolt of shimmery black lace while two more place a copper pot on the altar. I’m watching them in awe. The setting is coming together so beautifully in front of my eyes, painting a picture of vitality and death at once.
I lay on my stomach next to the pool, one arm dipped in, and swirl my hand back and forth through the warm water. Alec lazes next to me, his fingers tracing along my back. I can feel his eyes on me as I take it all in, watching me as intently as I watch the servants work.
“What is the lace for?” I ask.
He picks another apple slice out of the bowl with a small golden fork, taking a bite before offering me the rest. The flesh of the crisp apple explodes in my mouth with sweet, spicy, and bitter flavors all mixing in harmony.
“That lace is said to have been cut from the shroud of the Lady of Death and will be draped over the surface of the mirror, thinning the veil between the living and the dead further. It will be fused to the surface with a very specific solution, imbued with incantations to only allow calm and restful spirits to pass. We will light ourcandles and place the items of our lost loved ones on the altar, allowing us to be close to them again this one night of the year.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it is. I understand if the notion of eating and participating in such an intimate ceremony with the whole family is still too much for you right now,” Alec nibbles my shoulder affectionately. “But I will be attending.”
I pull my hand out of the water, lay my swimming head on top of my wet arm, and smile sleepily at him. Maybe it’s the alcohol from the soaked fruit, maybe it’s the warmth from the sun or the glorious man running his fingers over my skin. Maybe it’s the beginning of finding my peace again. Whatever it is, I smile at him and say, “If you’re going, then so am I.”
Alec’s whole aura lights up with the simple statement. “You would join me?”
“Of course, I’ll join you.” I gesture to the garden and the decorations coming along. “How could I ever resist seeing this in all its glory?”
He chuckles. “And here I thought that you were doing this for me.”
“When do I ever do anything that isn’t for myself?” I quip, and he laughs.
“Do not sell yourself so short, Ellya. You can be very giving.”
Alec strokes his fingers from my tailbone, straight up my spine in a slow pass. The tips of his fingers ghost over the surface of my skin, making my flesh pebble with the whisper of his touch. I shudder hard while his dark eyes soak me in.
“Are your expectations of my touch aligning with reality?” he asks me darkly.
“It’s better,” I sigh. “And that was very much for my pleasure, so you are making a terrible point.”
“Hmm,” Alec hums thoughtfully. “I disagree. And I have no doubt that you will eventually help make my point for me.” He cups my ass before slapping it, making me yelp.
I roll over with the intention of launching an attack, but I’m caught off guard by Alec’s expression. His sensual playfulness is gone. He looks down on me with such intensity and reverence shining bright in his brown eyes, all my previous thoughts fade away as I return his deep gaze.
Alec brushes a knuckle down my cheek.
“Are you aware of how much I love you, Ellya?” It comes out as a question but it’s more of a declaration. The memory of him saying those words to me after I said that I hated him rings through my head like a cannon blast, screaming my mistakes.
Of course, I never hated him. I hated everything that was churning horribly inside of me. I hated that the veil of innocence was ripped from me so gruesomely and unfairly. I hated my guilt and shame that I carried from my actions and interactions, even if I was coerced. I hated that I was unable to accept that I was not at fault and was only a victim to a greed filled man.
I hated the thought of being a victim.
If I was, what did that say about me? What did that say about the strength I always thought that I carried? I hated how I was unable to face and admit to how badly I was hurt, broken, and lost. I was afraid that admittance would shatter everything I held in regard to myself; my qualities that I was most proud of.
But Nana was right. Those qualities are not something that can be given, or taken, by anyone. The desperate measures taken by a desperate man speak nothing of my character but of his.
While I did hate the resemblance between Alec and Locane, that was never really the problem. I hated more so the self-loathing that was born from Locane’s abuse, the self-loathing that made me believe I wasn’t deserving of the love and support Alec so desperately wanted to give me. No matter my actions, or anyone else’s, I deserve the love of those around me.
I deserve to love myself, no less than I did before I was stolen in the night.
Stroking Alec’s face with a tender hand, I smile at him. “Yes. And I love you.”
We continue to stare at each other, lost in the comfort of breathing life into words we have always known—that we have said before—making them more real than they ever have been. I study the small drops of water still collected in Alec’s thick lashes and how they refract the light of the sun, making his brown irises shine.
