Page 7 of Queen of the Wicked
It’s cold, and my chest tightens.
“I love you,” I whisper. It comes out hoarse and tattered.
She says nothing back, and I don’t open my eyes as I hear her footsteps retreat, opening the door with a crack.
I cower slightly, because it reminds me of the moment I broke her neck.
And that sound will haunt me for the remainder of my eternity.
Five
Adelasia
I meant to hold his hand. I even tried to. I meant to twist my fingers in his before I shut the door.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Something dark and cruel inside me clenched and stopped me. The magic in my veins coiled behind my ribs like a wild beast, pouncing at everything it feels challenged by.
I felt my fingers twitch for Kaius, but they never lifted.
Every word that came from my throat was harsh and cold, and the man I love—the man I died for—looked at me as if I had a face he couldn’t recognize. The part of me that dragged myself back from the grave for him seems like a distant memory now.
I was warned, when I was in that uncomfortable in-between, that I would be punished, but I didn’t listen because I thought I could overcome whatever came my way. That magic and death wasn’t so hard to control after having experienced it in the most whole way possible.
I was wrong, and now my punishment is the horrible loneliness that turned Kaius into a tyrant. I never wanted that for me, for us. I only wanted him, but I can feel that magic trying to push him away so it can be more free.
I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stop it.
“I love you,” Kaius says as he presses a kiss to my forehead. His shoulders are tense yet defeated. He’s trying to understand me, but I won’t let him, because whatever is inside me fears control more than anything, and violent rejection towards the man I love is the easiest way for it to isolate me.
I nearly fall to my knees. I dig my fingers into my arm, trying to stay grounded, but the blood in my veins feels like ice. Sharp. Hard. I want to scream at myself. I want to crawl out of my own throat and ask him what’s wrong with me. I want to cry and beg him to hold me and promise that I will be okay.
But my lips refuse to tell him that I love him back. Every emotion within me is governed by this strange magic, and I tremble as I look down at my hands, watching the poison rot in my fingertips ever so slightly cover more of my skin.
I’m scared, and the only thing the magic inside me will allow me to do is walk away without a word.
I’m losing myself, and I don’t know how to tell Kaius that I’m still here buried beneath his darkness. I don’t know how much longer I can fight this without him.
And that’s exactly what it wants.
I dance until my feet bleed. Until the silence roaring in my ears is deafening and the rot under my skin is trying to stop itself from sweating out of my pores.
My studio was always a sacred place to me in this strange world. Somewhere I could kiss pieces of my old life and feel normal again. It was the first room Kaius rebuilt for me after the palace fell. The floor is still dark marble, but the ceiling is high, elegant crown molding holding it up like an ancient cathedral. The walls that do not have mirrors are draped in heavy velvet fabric that somehow billows without wind.
All that’s in this room right now is my feet striking the floor with a snap, and the sharp inhale of my breath between turns. I don’t even let my instruments play music. The music is only in my mind; a haunting waltz with unsettling strings.
The more I spin, and catch my spot in the mirror, the less I recognize whoever I’ve become. My body is tight and tense and wrong.
I’ve been at this for hours, or maybe longer. Time has no meaning to me anymore, and I just need to feel something that isn’t whatever’s been crawling around in my chest.
I was supposed to be free when Yekaterina crawled out of my spine, but I feel more caged than I ever have before.
Dancing is my salvation, and the sweat slick on my skin should bring me relief, but it doesn’t. My face twists, and suddenly, I’m sobbing. I cover my mouth with one hand as I clumsily stumble to the barre, grabbing it so tightly that the delicate wood splinters under my grip.
I don’t even mind the splinters.
I open my eyes, and watch the reflection staring back at me bore into my soul with dark, vicious eyes. I hit my reflection, causing the mirror and the floor beneath me to crack.
I stand and move away from the fissure in the floor, and the candles surrounding the room snuff out one by one until I’m left in the dark.
